A Deal with a Debutante (London’s Most Eligible #1)

Calliope couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

She knew she should tell her friends during the intermission—she would want to be told if any of them had been passionately kissed in a darkened opera box—but as Mina lamented wearing such a flouncy dress all night, and Daphne bemoaned her hair (which had sprung completely from its pins when the soprano hit her highest note of the first act), and Rose wondered aloud why no gentleman present seemed too keen on holding a conversation with her, Calliope found that she could not speak aloud what had happened with Edward.

Not because she was ashamed, although she knew she should be, as it went against every sense of propriety, but because this feeling she had growing inside of her, like a green bud pushing up through thawing winter soil, was so new, so precious in its infancy, she wanted to keep it to herself awhile longer.

So instead, she told them she’d be spending the following week at Whitefawn and asked them to make her excuses to Madame Dupré.