She was searching for the powder room when she took a wrong turn and found herself in the study. The door was ajar. Voices drifted from within.

"—told her I'd split the dinner parties, but the girl is something else. Young, you know? She wears the short skirts and dances the Charleston like she was born to it." Evelyn's hand tightened on the doorframe. She recognized Frederick's voice—easy, amused, the voice of a man telling a confident joke to an audience he assumes will laugh. "And Van Buren senior knows?" a second voice asked. This...
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