Her eyes flew open. She might need another glass of champagne to brave the thought further.
Yet the thought refused to wait. When she’d petitioned the House of Lords to set aside her marriage, this was the fate she’d carved out for herself, forever to be on the periphery of events, but never in the stream of them. She’d known that freedom would have its price. Tonight, she was beginning to understand how Society would exact payment in the years to come.
Yes, another glass of champagne would be necessary.
A voice, sharp and vulpine, cut into her thoughts. “Lady Olivia, may I congratulate you on the Duke of Arundel’s impending nuptials?”
Olivia’s eyes startled left and found Miss Fox at her side. She nodded and kept her silence, unable to trust herself to discuss nuptials with Jake’s future bride.
“I now understand your need for discretion a few days ago,” the chit continued. “Might this marriage shift your position in the Duke’s household?”
Olivia felt her mouth start to gape open and snapped it shut, clenching her teeth together. The cheek of Miss Fox.
“Unless, of course,” Miss Fox added slyly, “you have other plans.”
She was referring to the haikus, Olivia knew it. “Miss Fox, you mustn’t rely on gossip for your facts. How surprising that you read theLondon Diary.”
Miss Fox’s gaze shifted toward the dance floor. “Something like that.”
Emboldened, Olivia said, “Of course, soon your own wedding banns will be read.” She was being imprudent, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Miss Fox never failed to provoke her.
A tight, knowing smile hinted about Miss Fox’s mouth. “You needn’t fear that particular outcome, Lady Olivia. I shan’t be marrying Lord St. Alban.”
“That is rather a surprise,” she said, somehow managing to suppress the lightning strike of joy that bolted through every cell in her body.
Yet it changed nothing. Mina needed aproperstepmother.
Miss Fox’s brow lifted. “Is it? I would think it rather obvious that we don’t suit. The man is a thoroughbred stallion to my one-eyed cart pony.”
Startled by Miss Fox’s words, spoken with such clarity and confidence in their truth, Olivia looked at the other woman, really looked at her. The chit was of a height with Olivia, but slighter, airier in some way, as if a strong wind could blow her off a cliff. While some might deem her features unremarkable, the more discerning would see finely wrought bones beneath translucent, milk-pale skin that a Michelangelo marble would envy.
“Miss Fox, you speak too ill of yourself. One would be a fool to miss your delicate beauty.”
A blush the soft pink of a spring rosebud stained Miss Fox’s cheeks. The chit had the prettiest blush Olivia had ever seen. Still, she stared ahead, clearly unused to flattery of this sort.
“Flashy beauty isn’t the only sort,” Olivia continued.
“No?” Miss Fox asked, notes of her familiar acerbic tone returned. She gestured toward the dance floor. “It does seem to arrest people in their tracks, though, doesn’t it?”
Olivia glanced across mahogany buffed to a mirror shine and caught sight of a familiar figure.Mariana. A relieved smile found its way to her lips. This night wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Then she remembered the woman at her side. “Mariana does manage to attract a few eyes,” she conceded.
In parallel, Olivia and Miss Fox watched the string quartet strike up a waltz and Nick appear at Mariana’s side. Mariana didn’t light up at the sight of her beloved in the way of some women with a wide, glorious smile. Instead, a radiant blush softened her cheek, and the heat of her gaze increased tenfold.
“She does love him rather a lot, doesn’t she?” Miss Fox asked, her tone rhetorical. It was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Nick took Mariana’s hand, and from across the room Olivia felt the electricity of that touch. Miss Fox must, too. Mariana knew the secrets of that magnificent man, and he knew the secrets of her. He led her into the stream of the waltz, and they were swept away in its current.
A crystalline memory of their first Season came to Olivia. While Olivia had pursued Percy, a boy full of light and near her own age, Mariana had abstained from giving herself over to London’s entertainments. It wasn’t until a year later that Olivia understood why: Mariana had been waiting for the return of the elusive Lord Nicholas Asquith from the Continent, a man the polar opposite of Percy.Experienced.Worldly.Opaque. Where Percy was a boy, Nick was aman.
“Just look at the way he gazes upon her,” Miss Fox said. “They do make one feel like an intruder for watching. But . . .” Her voice fell away.
“Just trynotwatching,” Olivia finished for her, forging an unexpected kinship between them. She might like this Miss Fox, fellow intruder.
“Right. They’re just so . . . so . . .” Miss Fox said, her mouth twisted to the side in search of the right word.
“Perfect,” Olivia said.
“Perfect,” Miss Fox agreed. “They have what everyone wants.”
