"About three hundred."
Marianne sat down abruptly on a flour sack. "Three hundred aristocrats. Judging me. At once."
"Not all at once. They'll take turns."
"That's not helpful!"
"Some of them will be too drunk to judge properly?"
"Still not helpful!"
Thomas, ever practical, said, "you'll need to leave today if you want time to prepare properly. London's a full day's journey,and you'll need at least a day for dress fitting and learning which fork is which."
"Today?" Marianne squeaked.
"Thomas's right," Alaric agreed. "We should leave this afternoon. That gives you the morning to arrange things here."
"I can't just leave! The bakery..."
"I can manage for three days," her mother said firmly. "Heaven knows I did it for thirty years before you took over."
"But..."
"No arguments. My daughter's been invited to the Winterbourne Ball by a duke. You're going if I have to tie you to the carriage myself."
"Mother!"
"Don't ignore me. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Not just to attend a fancy ball, but to show those London snobs that our Marianne is worth a dozen of their painted peacocks."
"Painted peacocks?" Alaric asked, amused.
"That's what your mother called them once. She said London ladies were all feathers and no substance."
"My mother said that?"
"She said many things during her visits here. She was lonely, I think. She needed someone to talk to who wouldn't report back to society."
"What else did she say?"
"That's between her and my memories. But she would have loved seeing you with Marianne. She always said you needed someone who could make you laugh and forget to be dignified."
"Marianne excels at destroying my dignity."
"It needed destroying," Marianne said, recovering slightly from her panic. "It was excessive."
"My dignity was perfectly calibrated."
"Your dignity was a fortress. I just happened to have siege equipment."
"Siege equipment made of flour and mince pies."
"The best kind."
They smiled at each other, and Mrs. Whitby senior cleared her throat. "Right, enough mooning. Marianne, go pack. Your Grace, make whatever arrangements you need. Thomas, run and tell Mrs. Morrison that Marianne's going to a fancy ball. The entire village will want to know."
"The entire village doesn't need to know!" Marianne protested.
"The entire village will know within the hour regardless. Might as well control the narrative."
