She must escape … as soon as possible, and find consolation in fortune and consequence, bustle and the world, for a wounded spirit. Her mind was quite determined, and varied not.
—Mansfield Park
When it comes to stumbling upon dozens of wealthy men, there was only one leisure activity that mattered: polo. Even kings and princes played polo. I had read that West Palm Beach had a vibrant polo scene and Florida was an easy flight; I would start there. I e-mailed Jennifer at the magazine. She thought I was brilliant and arranged for a hotel to put me up. There was just one tiny glitch. I was terrified of horses. But, I told myself over and over, I didn’t have to ride one, I just had to get close enough to a horse to get close to its owner. At least the airfare was taken care of.
“You two are the best friends ever,” I gushed when they handed me the ticket over champagne at Avenue, as a sort of impromptu bon voyage party.
“Actually, that may be true.” Marianne laughed. “Look more closely.”
I raised an eyebrow and examined the ticket more carefully. It was first class.
“First class! So fabulous!”
“You can’t meet a rich guy in coach,” Brandon teased. “Hope that will do.”
“Does it ever!”
“She hasn’t even noticed,” Marianne sulked and sank into the sofa with her champagne.
“The name on the ticket, stupid,” Marianne joked. “It’s all about your name.”
I examined the itinerary again. There was no missing it this time. The ticket was issued to Lady Katharine Billington Shaw.
“You can travel under your title, too,” Marianne said. “Lady Katharine.”
“Really?” I asked doubtfully.
“It’s true,” Brandon continued. “I triple-checked. You’re a real lady.”
“It’s all aboveboard!” Marianne howled with delight.
I couldn’t take my eyes off my name; seeing it in print was surreal. On my birthday it had been a cute joke, but now, it seemed official.
“It will be our little secret,” Marianne said and poured more champagne all around.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “It’s not as if I’m going to announce it to the world.”