Faith clutched a pristine edition of The Mysteries of Udolpho in her lap and thanked her stars for Bryony Grenville.

Were it not for Dahlia’s younger sister, Faith never would have received an invitation to one of the fashionable set’s exclusive book clubs.

Strictly speaking, she still had not received an invitation. She was here as Bryony’s guest. Seated in the drawing room with a dozen women of far more varied backgrounds than Faith would’ve dreamed the beau monde could tolerate.

The Fairfax parlor was simple, but clean and elegant. The plain silver tray on the table in the center of the room laden with fresh tea and lemon cakes.

But the best part, the thing that Faith loved the most, was the heated argument raging over whether Udolpho was truly Radcliffe’s greatest Gothic romance, or if the novel were no more substantial than the exaggerated imagination of its heroine.

The ladies talked over each other to make their points.

Disappointment that scarcely a third of the novel took place in a Gothic castle, raptures at the sequence in Italy, which everyone agreed was one of the most romantic of countries, rolling eyes at the heroine’s unprovoked fainting spells which occurred so frequently as to be laughable.

It was heaven. Faith had always dreamed of finding a group such as this. Of finding herself amongst a fellowship of women who valued each other’s minds more than their titles. Now that she was here, she hoped to return again and again.

But her presence today was not due to her own recognizance. Faith struggled to think of what she could do to ensure a return invitation of her own.

Thus far she had yet to express any of her views aloud. More correctly, she had yet to speak at all. Faith was not shy with her family, not shy with the Grenvilles, not shy when she spoke for hours in front of a group of two dozen schoolchildren.

But this was something else. A dream so close to her grasp it was in danger of popping.

She gripped her book tighter in her lap. If she spoke out of turn, she and her unfashionable opinions would be roundly rejected. There would be no more book clubs.

However, if she remained quiet, she would be completely forgettable. An opinionless mouse would not receive a second glance, much less an invitation to return.

The question was achieving just the right balance to join the conversation.

“I think there should have been more kissing,” announced Bryony with her characteristically scandalous flair.

“Kissing!” exclaimed Lady Roundtree. “In a romance novel?”

“That wouldn’t be gothic, but scandalous!”

“But perchance a better ending, no?”

“Imagine if she kissed him instead of fainting…”

“Then he would never have preferred gambling!”

“What say you, Miss Digby?” Bryony twisted toward Faith, her eyes laughing at the lively discord she had sown. “To what lengths should our dear Emily have gone to ensure Valancourt be more attracted to her than to the gaming tables?”

“None,” Faith said, far more vehemently than she had intended. “If he is not sufficiently charmed with who and what she is, he does not deserve to take more from her than she is ready to give.”

“Well said!” Mrs. Fairfax clapped her hands together. “If only the rakes of London were half as wise as Miss Digby.”

Faith sagged in relief that her outspoken opinion had been accepted.

“I’ve a splendid idea!” Bryony banged her spoon against her saucer for attention. “We should have Miss Digby select the next title. Her library is even larger than Prinney’s, and she has read every single book in it.”

“Oh, is it true? If so, I am vexingly jealous,” Mrs. Fairfax said in delight. “Do say you will invite each of us over to browse your wonderful collection.”

“I… That is… If you like, you are more than welcome,” Faith stuttered. “Although I am not certain any library can be half as wonderful as Miss Grenville would have you believe.”

“Not true,” Bryony countered with sparkling eyes. She held up her palm to the blond woman on Faith’s other side. “Just ask Mrs. Turner.”

Mrs. Turner blushed. “I knew my husband was The One when I discovered he had built a library just for me.”

Faith smiled shyly. “It sounds like you chose very wisely.”

“Do you spend every afternoon enjoying the fruits of his labor?” Mrs. Fairfax asked.

“I used to,” Mrs. Turner replied, seeming chagrined. “But now that the children are older, I find myself dedicating an extraordinary amount of time to determining whether increased tutorage or finishing school would afford them the greater benefit.”

“Dreadful to decide, is it not?” Faith blurted before she could stop herself. “Both are splendid choices with strikingly different advantages. The hiring of governesses and tutors allows one to select each instructor with great care and provide the child with one-on-one attention, whereas finishing school grants them a plethora of group activities, the chance to make friends, the ability to learn and grow with others.”

Appalled, Lady Roundtree’s teacup rattled against her saucer. “Are you a mother, Miss Digby?”

“I have a ward,” Faith said hurriedly as she realized her mistake. “I do not pretend to know what motherhood is like, but it is my duty to give my niece the greatest advantages I can.”

“You phrased it so well.” Mrs. Turner smiled at her in kinship. “That is exactly what it is like. And if you are interested, there remain a few openings in what most of us agree to be the finest finishing school in the area.”

Lady Roundtree cast her gaze heavenward. “Never say you refer to the Fitz-Dwyer Academy.”

Bryony rolled her eyes toward Faith. “Since the review process isn’t quite as stringent as Almack’s”—the other ladies tittered—“those with vouchers may find affiliation beneath them.”

Faith didn’t give a fig what the patronesses of Almack’s believed beneath them. All she wanted was the best possible education for her daughter. An opportunity for Christina to grow and blossom with richer resources and better advantages than Faith or her boarding school could provide.

“You must know that the best families educate their children in the home.” Lady Roundtree sniffed. “No one of truly fine breeding would want their daughters anywhere they might be influenced by those who are unworthy. A governess is the only answer.”

Mrs. Turner ignored the comments and turned to Faith. “I can pass your name along, if you like.”

Faith’s breath caught at the unexpected offer.

The Fitz-Dwyer Academy was legendary among families who could not boast ducal connections the likes of Lady Roundtree’s. It would be perfect for Christina. The best environment, the best tutors, the best chance for an unparalleled education and a truly happy childhood.

“I would like that,” Faith said softly.

Her fingers shook as much in terror as excitement at the idea. She had such mixed feelings about sending Christina out of sight, even if it was nearby.

This particular institution was not dreadfully far from London. With Mrs. Turner’s gracious offer of an introduction, Chris had even more of a chance of acceptance. If Faith were willing to relinquish her.

Perhaps the best thing for Christina would be not to have her “Aunt Faith” hovering over her shoulder.

She sagged in gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Consider it done.” Mrs. Turner reached for another lemon cake. “I shall send a personal letter the moment I return home. On one condition.”

Faith’s stomach bottomed with dread. “On what condition?”

“That you join our club and host next month’s meeting in this famous library of yours,” Mrs. Turner said with a wide smile.

“Splendid idea,” Mrs. Fairfax agreed. “We’re still working out the schedule. Will you be in town all year or just for the Season?”

“All year,” Faith stammered, unable to believe what she was hearing. Her mind was dizzy with disbelief and pleasure.

For the first time in her life, fashionable women actually seemed to like and respect her.

Of course she wished to be part of their book club. She would let them borrow every book in the family library if it kept her in their good graces.

Which, she realized with a sinking feeling, would not last long if the truth about Christina were to come out. Were Faith’s history as a fallen woman ever to become common knowledge, she would be nothing but an outcast forevermore.

And so would her daughter.