After Sinclair and the guests had left, I was giddy with excitement. “Oh, what’ll I wear, Mrs. Shaw? I’ve never been to the likes of anything such as that in my life! What do they do at those things? Can you believe Sinclair has asked me, when he could have picked from a million other girls?”

Mrs. Shaw stood up from the table, took me by the arm and led me into the library. We sat down on either side of the fireplace. She looked at me for a while, as if making up her mind what to say.

“I know you are thrilled, my dear,” she began. “I certainly would be in your shoes. But . . .” She hesitated, and I sensed caution in her voice. “But I feel I must warn you about something. As you know, Sinclair is my husband’s nephew, and I have known him since he was born. He is a high-spirited young man, and charming. You saw it yourself this evening. But he has a streak in him that I find—”

“What is it, Mrs. Shaw?”

“I find him somewhat insincere. In short, he uses people for his own amusement, and when they no longer please him, he abandons them. I’ve seen him do it time and time again.” She leaned toward me. “I don’t want to see you hurt, my dear. Go with him to the party and enjoy yourself. But don’t misread his intentions.”

I knew she meant no harm, but I felt my anger rising. She’d assumed I was just like other girls, but she didn’t know me. She didn’t know that I was always the belle of the ball, and that men fell over themselves to be with me. I wouldn’t have known this either had my memory not come back. I remembered how Ma had filled my head with such notions from when I was a child, and every time she was proved right, my confidence grew.

I shrugged my shoulders and stood up. Sinclair Shaw wouldn’t be abandoning me anytime soon, I was sure of that.

Christmas Eve night arrived, and I felt like a queen. Mrs. Shaw, who confessed she was not up on the latest fashions, had asked young Martha to help. Now I was rigged out in the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. The bodice was pale blue, with a low neck and wee shiny beads all over it. A broad silver ribbon was wrapped high around my waist. The skirt was the same blue as the bodice and fell to my ankles. It hugged my hips and had a slit up the front that, I was told, was so your legs would be free to dance. I had matching silver shoes with shiny silver buckles. And, to top it all off, Martha suggested a silver headband. She said headbands were becoming all the rage, and I would look very up-to-date.