As she always did on any really important day, Penelope Hayes wore red.

Diana knew it wouldn't be right, but then she told herself that things only looked wrong when there was someone to see you.

Though her emotions had not deviated from a jittery frailty she knew that in her own room she could at least attempt sleep and that if she dreamed she might then finally be with Henry.

There was no pleasure like being envied on a mass scale.

So this is how life was, she thought with a faint smile: It wore you down until you emerged at its wildest, most unexpected ends.

They were a society whose chief vocations were to entertain and be entertained.

Ah well that I can't tell you." Diana ducked her head so that the brim of her bonnet covered her face. "Some things must remain a mystery and for now I think I'll keep my opinion of you and your compliments to myself.