"But at this moment, as she piloted the landau back to Vauxhall Gardens behind the chugging dray with one eye on the road and the other on the piano, she reflected that circumstances could certainly be much, much worse.
She could be in gaol.
She could be lying dead in the street.
She could be doing needlework in the dim, sunless parlor belonging to her grand-aunts Beaton."
Oh, I do so enjoy a bit of froth. It's going to be really hard to stop myself from starting the second book in the series rather than diving into the candy bowl.