A Sense of Sin by Elizabeth Essex Page B

were not, but I have found, for a woman of my . . . background, living in the world bears little resemblance to the wonderful, protected days we spent at Miss Hadley’s School.”
    Celia had never minded that Melissa was most likely the natural daughter of a gentleman who paid for her schooling anonymously. She had no other parent or relations, but Celia gave no particular importance to social status. She had been enough influenced by Lizzie and her radical ways of thinking to admire self-made people, and she had long ago learned to judge people on the content of their character before anything else.
    “I loved my place there,” Melissa continued. “But perhaps it was because I did not have family in any place so lovely as Dartmouth to come home to. How you must have missed it. You left school so suddenly, before anyone else.”
    Celia had her pat answer. “My term there was almost up and my parents were concerned . . . they required me home.” She put on her best smile and changed the subject. “Where is your Mrs. Turbot? I should very much like to be able to introduce her to some new acquaintance as well.”
    “That is very good of you, Miss Burke. I am quite flattered you should put yourself out so for us, for me. We were not the best of friends at school.”
    “Nonsense. If we were not then, we should be now. We are grown up and have put away childish things. Your coming has made me useful in a way I very much want right now.”
    “Useful? Why ever should a woman as rich and beautiful as you want to be useful?” Melissa gave a light laugh. “I am sure I have spent my whole life dreading being useful. Mrs. Turbot must be useful, but I had much rather be decorative. Would not you?”
    Celia smiled at the compliment, but stuck to her point. “Then purposeful. I desire above all things to be purposeful.”
    “Well, my only purpose is to find a husband.” Melissa glanced sideways at Celia. “I fear I shock you by speaking so boldly of my ambitions.”
    “Not at all. I do not condemn ambition in a woman. Rather the opposite.”
    “And you? What is your ambition, Celia?”
    “This evening, it is to draw as little notice as possible.”
    “But that is quite impossible. You are too rich and you are far too beautiful. It is impossible not to notice you. Indeed that military man cannot take his eyes off you.”
    Celia turned to see Commander McAlden propping up the doorway to the card room. “Ah, the very person. Come Melissa, should you like to be introduced? Commander McAlden is with the Royal Navy and is quite the local hero.”
    But Melissa was looking rather more like she would prefer having a tooth pulled than being introduced to a common officer. “Oh, my dear Celia. I hope I give no offense, but I had rather higher ambitions than a mere naval officer.”
    Celia could not help but be wounded for Commander McAlden’s sake, but if Melissa was truly that shallow, she was not worthy of him. “Then let me introduce you to Mr. Harrington. He has a lovely estate in Somerset. Five thousand a year, or so my mama says.”
    When Melissa was happily dispatched to dance with the amiable Mr. Harrington and his more amiable five thousand, Celia moved quickly away from the dance floor in search of the Commander. He was kind enough to be waiting for her in the corridor.
    “Commander?”
    “Your servant, Miss Burke. Do you care to dance?” He bowed smartly, but wore a look of determined politeness.
    She took pity on them both. “No, I thank you.” She lowered her voice. “But please, you know we must talk.”
    “Yes,” he nodded in agreement, though his forehead was lined with a scowl. The Commander led the way down the corridor that paralleled the ballroom, where they might speak privately while still being in public.
    Celia looked about her for prying ears before she spoke. “I hope you can imagine my topic, Commander.”
    “I can.”
    “You left me with a dreadful state of anxiety, in which I have remained