For Three Months She Wrote Letters To An Unknown Soldier — The Duke Read Every Single One

Chapter 2

The second letter came nine days later, and Verity blamed the waltz.

Lady Marchmont’s assembly had introduced the new dance to London that season, and the ton had received it the way the ton received anything foreign and slightly immoral: by pretending to disapprove while doing it badly and often. Verity had been steered onto the floor by a baronet’s eldest son whose conversation had concerned, in its entirety, the annual yield of his mother’s estates.

Dear Corporal Hooper,

They played a waltz tonight. You spin in circles until the room blurs, held far too close by a man who is calculating, to the nearest pound, what your dowry would produce in a year. It is a transaction wearing silk. I stepped on his foot on purpose. He apologized to me. The world is entirely mad.