Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Tears sprang to her eyes. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. ’ ‘People are silly. You understand me, I’m sure. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug.
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