Sesily’s particular fearsomeness came with being thirty years old, unmarried, rich, and a woman. And worse, all those things without shame. She had never taken herself up to a high shelf to live out her days. She hadn’t even taken herself off to the country. Instead, she took herself to balls. In low-cut, boned silks that looked decidedly unlike pastry. Without bonnets made for either debutantes or spinsters.
