Inside, the main hall was awash with light. Chandeliers sparkled with crystal. Tall vases of roses flanked the staircase. Footmen moved with quiet efficiency, directing guests toward the drawing room.
Howard handed their cloaks to a servant, then turned to her. “You will remain with us.”
“Yes,” Gwen answered automatically.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “If you stray, if you disappear for even a minute, you will regret it.”
Her skin crawled.
He was not finished.
“Your future husband will be visiting us in two days,” he continued softly. “We will discuss settlements and expectations. I expect you to be obedient. You will be married before the month is out. You will not embarrass me again.”
She felt as if the floor shifted beneath her feet.
“Who is he?” she whispered.
“That is none of your concern,” Howard replied. “It is enough that he exists. You should be grateful. I have done more for you than you deserve.”
She said nothing as they entered the drawing room.
Gwen saw them at once. Arabella, in a pale pink gown, her eyes shadowed with restlessness. Eleanor, in elegant dove grey, herexpression neutral, assessing, always thinking three steps ahead. Both stood with their parents, talking to another couple.
Their eyes found her at the same moment. Surprise, then relief, then concern flickered across their faces.
Gwen stopped herself from going to them, though her body ached to hurry across the room. Howard’s hand pressed against her back, steering her toward the Dowager Duchess of Greystone.
The Dowager Duchess stood near the fireplace, a queen surveying her court. She wore deep blue silk, and her hair was arranged in exquisite precision beneath a jeweled comb. She turned as they approached, a practiced smile already in place.
“Fenwick,” she greeted politely. “Lady Fenwick. Lady Gwendoline. I am pleased you could join us.”
“We are honored by your hospitality, Your Grace,” Howard said, bowing deeply. “Your son is most kind.”
The Dowager Duchess’s smile did not quite reach her eyes. “Kindness is not always his first instinct, but he knows his duty where Society is concerned.”
Gwen’s heart beat faster. Her gaze slid past the Dowager Duchess, searching.
Where is Victor? He cannot be far. He must be somewhere in this room or the next.
The Dowager Duchess noticed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Lady Gwendoline, how good it is to see you amongst company again. You have been missed this Season.”
Gwen curtsied. “You are very generous to say so, Your Grace.”
The Dowager Duchess tilted her head. “You must not stand with us old creatures all evening. There are young people here. Friends of yours. The Barkers, I believe. You should join them and enjoy the evening. That is the point of a dinner party, is it not?”
Gwen opened her mouth, hope rushing in, but Howard interjected at once. “Lady Gwendoline is perfectly comfortable at my side.”
The Dowager Duchess turned her cool, aristocratic gaze upon him. “Nonsense. A girl of her age should be seen among her peers, not hanging on the sleeve of her stepfather like he was her governess.”
Howard’s jaw tightened. “We have rules in our household.”
“And I have rules in mine,” the Dowager Duchess replied smoothly. “One of them is that guests do what I tell them to. Lady Gwendoline, go and find your friends. You may fetch them if you like.”
The last sentence was added almost lazily, as if it were an afterthought, but Gwen heard the careful construction.
To fetch them, she must first leave. To obey the Dowager Duchess was to disobey her stepfather.
It was a lifeline delivered in silk.
