“The very last thing you want to do is flee the room when the Ashmonds enter. Your father would never forgive you. Aren’t the two of you playing cool with the Demerovens?”
Gwen glares up at Albie. “It’s none of your business.”
“He told me to look after you—that includes keeping you from making a spectacle of yourself,” Albie says, angling his body away from the commotion of Beth and Montson’s entrance to meet her eyes, face serious. “You should be happy for her.”
“Right,” Gwen says tightly. “The pride and joy of the season. I should sing her praises and send thanks up to the gods of love?”
“It might not hurt to put some good energy out into the world,” Albie says with a little shrug.
“Just because you’re coupled up doesn’t mean the rest of the world needs to be all about roses and ceremonies,” Gwen says, hearing the bite in her voice, but unable to protect Albie from her misplaced anger. It has to go somewhere. “Two months ago you would have been teasing her with me. Montson’s a drip.”
“He’s a good lad,” Albie says seriously. “Jealousy isn’t a becoming color on you, Gwennie.”
She curls her free hand over his on her arm and pinches him. Albie grunts and releases her. “I’m not jealous.”
“Right. Clearly. My mistake,” Albie says, rubbing at the back of his hand. “Mere, Gwen could use the lavatory, would you go with her? Don’t want her falling in with the wrong crowd.”
Meredith nods, giving Gwen a bright smile. Gwen sighs, allowing Meredith to take her arm and lead her away and down the corridor off the dance hall. She wonders what Albie has told her of the Havenforts’ “falling out” with the Demerovens. Wonders whether Meredith has had cause to speak with Beth since she got engaged.
Gwen hasn’t been to a social event since they heard. Father let her sulk for one day, and then they spent the following afternoon fencing, taking out their mutual anger in sword fighting and footwork. But Meredith and Albie have been to four teas in the past two days.
“So what’s got you in a knot?” Meredith asks as they come to the lavatory chamber.
It smells sickeningly of lavender and Gwen swallows against the nausea that’s been roiling in her stomach all night. She wants to simply push into the water closet, continue her ruse. But Meredith’s giving her quite a look, and for all that they’ve really only ever been society friends, she is about to be family.
“Beth’s mother and my father rather... fell out of sorts. And the Ashmonds are violently opposed to the MCA. We haven’t spoken in the past few days, that’s all.”
Meredith frowns. “That’s a shame. She’s such a lovely girl. Though I will say, for the belle of the ball, she’s been downright dour since the engagement. Even Lady Ashmond’s noticed. I heard her reprimanding Lady Demeroven about Beth’s demeanor.”
Gwen leans back against the wood-paneled wall, sucking on her cheek. It seems neither of them is a very good actress. “I’m sure she’s fine. It’s an adjustment, is all. Lots of responsibility coming her way,” she pushes out, trying hard to sound casual and disinterested.
“The planning is brutal,” Meredith agrees, shrugging a little as she leans back into the wall as well. “I can only imagine it’s ten times worse for a marriage to an Ashmond.”
“Probably,” Gwen agrees, taking a deep breath to push down the rise of bile that comes with the thought of Beth in a white dress beside Montson. “How are you holding up?” she asks, forcing herself to meet Meredith’s eyes.
She could use the distraction, and despite how much Albie’s on her nerves, she likes Meredith, and she should be making more of an effort. She can’t quite manage excitement, but she can pretend at interest, at least.
“I’m excited,” Meredith says, smiling. “And exhausted. But I love Albie so I know it will all be worth it. I feel very lucky.”
Gwen considers her, pleased by the honesty in her voice. It’s clear to look at Meredith and Albie that they do actually love each other. A rare, fatefully lucky match, indeed. She and Beth could be just like Albie and Meredith if the world were different.
“Albie’s the lucky one,” Gwen says as brightly as she can manage. “You’re doing him a kindness.”
Meredith snorts and reaches out to slap her side. Her hand hits Gwen’s hoop and her whole skirt shudders. They both laugh.
“He’s a wonderful man.”
“Yeah, he is,” Gwen agrees. “A brat, but a wonderful man,and I’m sure he’ll be a good husband. He’s always looked out for me, even if I pretend it’s the other way around.” Meredith beams at her. “Please never tell him I said that.”
“Oh, I’ll pick my moment someday,” Meredith says, waving off her frown. “I’ll use it for good, promise. One day when he’s very angry at you, I’ll tell him you actually love him very much and he’s your most favorite cousin. It will be fun to watch his head explode.”
Gwen gives Meredith a slow once-over. “You suit each other.”
“I know,” Meredith says with a little grin. “Now we just need to find you a good man.”
Gwen pushes off from the wall. She won’t be roped into any matchmaking this late in the game. She’s failed another season in the eyes of the ton; no need to add insult to injury. No one will ever know that she, too, found a love match. So let them all think she’s a failure.
“I’d rather support you and Albie,” Gwen says, adjusting her skirt and picking at imaginary lint.
