Rose sat facing the mirror, permitting herself the glimmer of a victory smile. The simplicity of the Pocahontas outfit was the perfect foil for a ball that would be ornamented by a time-travelling array of lavish costumes from the world’s royal courts.
Her mother had been desperate for her to wear something to rival the hostess’s own Mary, Queen of Scots costume, reputed to be worth upwards of forty thousand dollars in jewels alone. But Rose figured her plain chemise of soft silk, fringed with turquoise and onyx beads, would allow her to dodge the scrutiny of the families combing the ball for a bride, so that she could wander freely in search of rare and unusual detail inside the Waldorf…




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