Astir. What did that even mean? Did she think Evangeline meant to burst out singing bawdy tavern songs over supper? Seduce a married man during the quadrille? Arrive with a troupe of circus performers in tow and ruin the ball?
“I expect she felt she had to invite you,” said Fanny, “as Sir Richard Campion is rumored to be one of the guests of honor.”
She started. “What?”
Fanny regarded her calmly over the rim of her teacup. “Surely you knew.”
Flustered, Evangeline drained her cup and set it down. “No. Why would I?”
Her friend rolled her eyes.
“I have kept a careful and deliberate distance from Richard since I came back to London,” Evangeline defended herself. “For Joan’s sake.”
“And you’ve had no contact of any kind with the man.”
Evangeline flushed. “Only letters.” Fanny waited. “He came to breakfast once, very early, bringing Louis for a visit. Over a fortnight ago! I’ve not seen him since then—not once, not even in passing.”
“Ah,” said Fanny dryly. “No wonder he’s finally agreed to speak at one of Sir Paul’s parties. The man must be desperate to see you.”
“No, why—?” began Evangeline in puzzlement, before she stopped. Once, Richard had regularly attended those sorts of events and spoken of his travels. She’d met him at one, after all. But Fanny was correct: he hadn’t done any of that in recent years. But surely it wasn’t because ofher...
Fanny smiled, a touch grimly. “While you have been fortunate enough to be spared Catherine Brentwood’s society, I have not. She’s been attempting to lure him, and other dashing gentlemen like him, to her soirées for years. Somehow she’s got it in her head that it will elevate her parties to rarified glory, and as Campion refuses every invitation that doesn’t include you, she’s been wildly frustrated.” Evangeline gaped at her, and Fanny nodded once. “Miss Bennet offers a convenient excuse, butyouare the one she really wants to attend. If you are there, he is sure to follow.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her face burning, Evangeline reached for a tea cake to cover her confusion. “Why pen such an insulting note if she really wishes me to attend? Which I do not believe she does, by the by,” she added quickly.
The countess sighed and put down her plate, now devoid of petit fours. “My dear. Which part mystifies you? That it is galling for Catherine to admit she needs you, or that that man of yours is both devoted to and fiercely protective of you?”
“Oh, I believe in the gall,” she said, and Fanny gave a snort of laughter. “But Richard isn’t mine, and he can go where he pleases. I’ve never once suggested he not attend an event.”
“He only pleases to go where you are.”
“But I don’t go to London society events!” She wasn’t usually invited, but she’d thought that was partly due to her relationship with him.
“Nor does he.” With an air of victory, Fanny chose another petit four, one with a sugared violet on top.
“Fanny.” Evangeline sighed, rubbing her temples. “There is a reason we aren’t in public together.”
“Perhaps, just perhaps,” said her friend gently, “the reason no longer exists. If it ever did.”
“It most certainly did,” said Evangeline under her breath. Her sister-in-law had explained it quite clearly, if delicately. The scandal over Court’s death had died down, but mention of it flared up every time she went out, like the embers of a fire she could never entirely extinguish. She suspected Lady Ambrose of fanning the sparks, hoping to drive her away. Every mention of Evangeline, after all, resurrected the tale of Lady Ambrose being caught in bed with Court, and of her husband killing Court in their bedchamber. Marion had agreed that it wasn’t fair, but it nonethelesswas, and Marion was worried about any of the scandal clinging to her family.
So Evangeline had gracefully given in, kept her distance, and held her tongue. Not because she agreed, but because she didn’t want to do anything to hurt Joan. Then she’d found she preferred life without the stress of society and their criticisms, and it hadn’t really mattered.
“Are you going to attend?” asked Fanny, rousing Evangeline from her thoughts.
She sighed. “Of course. For Joan’s sake. I cannot imagine what Marion would say if I kept her away from Catherine Brentwood’s ball over a trifling little note.”
Fanny’s eyes fell on the noxious paper. “Itisoffensive.”
Evangeline took a deep breath. “It is. And I must rise above it, mustn’t I?” Then she ruined it with an angry exclamation. “Though I’m very tempted to let slip how besotted Catherine was at age seventeen with her brother’s tutor, and how very like him her oldest son looks!” Evangeline had no evidence the boy wasn’tSir Paul’s child, but he did bear a passing resemblance to the tutor.
“Those who live on spiteful rumors are just as likely to be felled by them,” observed Fanny. “On the bright side, you will have Sir Richard’s company to console you.”
“Speaking to him would likely be judged astir,” said Evangeline, still in a simmering fury.
“Nonsense,” Fanny retorted. “Speak to one of the guests of honor? How impolite, should younot.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Take your niece. Speak to Richard. Dance with the man! Do not act guilty of a sin you never committed. In a just world, you would be every bit as welcome at these parties as Cynthia Ambrose is.”
She thought about that. She did have to attend the ball; if she did not, Catherine would likely write to Marion, who would be upset. And really, no one could possibly blame her if Catherine also invited Richard, and as Fanny said, it would be only polite to speak to him—to dance with him.
