“Do you know what the ton is, Anastasia?” Aunt Matilda asked sharply. She was seated now on a stool beside her mother’s chair.

“I believe it is a French term for the upper classes, Aunt,” Anna said.

“The very crème de la crème of the upper classes,” Lady Matilda told her. “We in this room are all of it, and so, heaven help us, are you. However are you to be whipped into shape when you are already twenty-five years old?”

It was hard not to strike back with equal sharpness and declare that she had no intention to being whipped into any sort of shape that was not of her own choosing. It was hard not to turn tail and stalk from the room and the house and find her way back home. Except that she had the feeling there was no real home at the moment. She was between two worlds, no longer belonging to the old and certainly not yet belonging to the new. All she could do was explore this new world a little more deeply and then decide what to do with the knowledge. She called upon all the resources of an inner calm and held her tongue.

“Matilda,” the earl’s mother said reproachfully, “be fair. Anastasia cannot help either her age or her upbringing. She must feel that she is facing the enemy here from every side when in reality we are her family. Have you ever known any other family, Anastasia? On your mother’s side, perhaps?”

“No, ma’am,” Anna said. “I am sorry. You are Cousin—?”

“Althea,” she said, smiling.

“No, Cousin Althea,” Anna said. “I knew nothing of my identity until yesterday. I have always been Anna Snow.”

“Then this must be overwhelming,” the lady said. “Perhaps you would like to return home with Alex and Lizzie and me for a few days since this is a large house and you cannot remain here alone.”

“You would be very welcome, Cousin Anastasia,” the earl told her.

“No,” the duchess said. “She must absolutely remain here, Althea. I will be arranging for a modiste and a hairdresser to be here early tomorrow. And her belongings, for what they are worth, are being fetched here from the Pulteney. You are quite right, though, that she cannot stay here alone without a companion or chaperone. Perhaps Matilda—”

“Oh, I would be delighted to remain here for a few days with Cousin Anastasia, if she will permit it,” the earl’s sister said, her smile as warm as her mother’s. “May I, Anastasia? I promise not to overwhelm you with a litany of all that must be changed in you before you are indistinguishable from all the rest of us. Rather, I would like to find out about your life as it was before yesterday. I would like to find out about you. What do you say?”

Anna closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh yes, please,” she said, “if you will, Cousin Elizabeth. If it is no great trouble to you. But will not my half brother return here?”

“If he does,” the duchess said, “he will be redirected to Archer House.”

“I am surprised,” the earl said, “that you are not out searching for him, Netherby. I would do it myself, but under the circumstances I would expect to be the very last person he would wish to see. Perhaps the obligation you feel toward him is more irksome now that he is no longer Riverdale.”

Elizabeth turned her head to regard her brother reproachfully. The Duke of Netherby appeared quite unruffled, Anna saw, but she was not surprised to see that he had his quizzing glass to his eye. What an affectation that was. She would be very surprised to learn that he suffered from poor vision. Yet the glass somehow made him appear doubly dangerous.

“Had you been paying greater attention, Riverdale, though really, why should you?” he said softly, “you might have noticed that I never run about searching for lost puppies when it is altogether probable I will end up chasing my own tail instead and looking foolish. Nor do I interfere with very young blades sowing wild oats. I am no one’s maiden aunt. As for seeking out a young man who thinks it a rollicking good lark to have lost everything he ever believed to be his, including the legitimacy of his birth, no, it will not happen. It will be time enough to find him when he has stopped laughing, as he will.”

Anna felt chilled by the bored hauteur of his voice, and by his words. The Earl of Riverdale did not reply, but it occurred to Anna, even from this brief exchange, that there was no love lost between the two men.

“Please do not distress yourself, Cousin,” the earl said, regarding Anna steadily. “You must put young Harry, and Camille and Abigail too, from your mind, at least for a while. They are all deeply upset and not inclined to look kindly upon you, even though they are well aware that you are quite blameless and indeed more sinned against than sinning. It will be some time before they can be induced to recognize any relationship to you. Give them that time if you will.”

Both his words and the look on his face were kind, but the words hurt anyway.

“Alexander is quite right,” the dowager said. “Turn right around, Anastasia.” Anna turned. “You do not have much of a figure, but at least you are slender. And stays will do wonders for your bosom. I do not suppose you have ever worn stays?”

Anna could feel heat in her cheeks. Goodness, there were men present. “No, Grandmama,” she said.

“It will all be taken care of, starting tomorrow,” the duchess said briskly. “We must decide too what tutors will be necessary—a dancing master, certainly, and a teacher of etiquette, and perhaps others too. In the meantime, you must not even think of venturing from the house, Anastasia. Elizabeth will keep you company indoors. Now, have a seat—you have been standing long enough. Matilda, pull on the bell rope for the tea tray, if you will.”