The invitation to the Winter Solstice Ball was a gauntlet thrown, but the first test came sooner. It arrived not as a letter, but as a quiet word from Eliot two days later. "The Duchess of Elmsworth is holding a small gathering this afternoon, my lord. A salon. To discuss the upcoming season. The Duke believes it would be... beneficial for you to attend."
Beneficial. That was Darius's word for a trial by fire. It was a smaller arena than the ball, but the audience would be just as sharp, the judgment just as swift. This was the prelude, the warm-up before the main performance. I knew what it was. A public rehearsal, and I was the only one who hadn't seen the script.
