Elizabeth smoothed her skirts self-consciously as they neared their destination, fingering the blue satin and curling it around her thumb. Peggy noticed and swatted her hand.

"Do not destroy your dress, Betsey," Margaret chided. "You talk so much about meeting the perfect man at the ball, then do all you can to ruin your appearance. Men value how you look."

Eliza nodded and folded her hands over the base of her corset, although it wasn't long until she was playing with her necklace, smudging the beads' pearly glow. Margarita scowled but said nothing.

After a few minutes, Angelica turned around to face her sisters, and said, "We are arriving in a few minutes. Stay quiet and be polite."

Neither sister protested. Angelica had been to many balls before, and they trusted her judgement.

"Also, if a man asks for a dance," Angelica added, "Say yes. It is proper for you to do so. And Peggy, stay away from the alcohol."

Margaret pouted. "I have had it before."

Angel and Eliza stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

"When?" Elizabeth finally managed to choke out.

"Last summer!" Peggy said. "I was curious!"

"Wow," Angel said. "And I thought I was rebellious at your age."

Peggy smiled devilishly.

"We have arrived, ladies," said the driver of the carriage. The sisters automatically straightened, smoothing skirts and corset-fronts, adjusting their jewelry and hair.

Angelica took a deep breath. "Alright, girls, remember my advice."

The younger two nodded, and stepped out of the carriage.

***

The beginning of the event was a blur of color. Hundreds of dresses and coats swept the dance floor in every shade imaginable, from teal to emerald green to deep crimson. Eliza and Peggy stood in the corner gossiping, watching as Angelica prepared to dance with—oh, had the number reached sixteen now?—her seventeenth partner that evening.

"Perhaps he will be the one," Elizabeth mused. The man she was dancing with now was a tall slim blond, hair pulled back in a silk sky blue ribbon. He was wearing a simple brown coat and tan breaches, brown buckled shoes polished to a matte shine. Angel seemed to be enjoying the dance. The two were in deep conversation. "Laurens? Was that his name?"

Peggy nodded, but her eyes were somewhere else across the ballroom. "What of him?"

Eliza turned, black eyes searching for the man Peggy was referring to, before her gaze finally landed on the soldier in question and her breath caught in her throat.