Hazel flinched. “Well, I have managed one now.”
“What kind of mistake?” Chastity leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Did you insult someone? Break something? Offend the hostess?”
“Worse,” Hazel muttered.
“Worse than that?” Patience blinked rapidly. “Did you… you did not… Hazel, you didn’t murder anyone, did you?”
“No!” Hazel nearly choked. “Of course not!”
Patience exhaled. “Well, that is a relief.”
Hazel rubbed her temples. She felt the humiliation all over again: the doorway, the gossips’ faces, Greyson Thornhill’s impossible expression. It was a nightmare wearing a duke’s coat.
“I was part of a… situation,” she said at last.
“A situation?” Patience echoed. “What kind of situation?”
“A scandalous one,” Hazel said through clenched teeth. “There. Are you satisfied?”
Chastity gasped dramatically. “Hazel! What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Hazel declared. “Well, not nothing. But nothing wrong, nothingintentional. It is simply… oh, saints preserve me, it is simply a mess, and the less we discuss it, the better.”
Patience nudged her. “Does this have something to do with us sneaking into the duke’s?—”
“Patience Thorne, if you finish that sentence, I will personally toss you into this carriage headfirst.”
Patience pressed her lips together.
Hazel took a steadying breath and straightened her cloak. “Listen carefully. We are returning to London, packing our essentials, and going directly to Bath for the remainder of the Season.”
Chastity blinked. “Bath? But, why Bath?”
“Because,” Hazel said, “I believe it wise to avoid the next few weeks of gossip. And Bath is full of respectable familiesand hopefully, decent bachelors. Perhaps you might even meet young men who enjoy sanity, which seems rare in this family.”
Chastity and Patience exchanged another glance.
Patience asked softly. “Is it that bad?”
Hazel shut her eyes. “Yes.”
Chastity touched her arm. “Hazel… what exactly happened with the Duke of Callbury?”
Hazel made a strangled sound and nearly tripped over a valise. “We arenotdiscussing him.”
“Oh,” Chastity breathed. “So, itisabout him.”
Hazel groaned. “Girls, if you value my health, my dignity, or your own chances of marriage, you will sit down, remain quiet, and let me pretend the last six hours never occurred.”
Patience reached to climb the carriage, then halted. “Do you think the rumors will fade by next year?”
Hazel wrapped her arms around herself. “I can only hope.”
Patience squeezed Hazel’s hand. “Well… at least we are together.”
Hazel looked at her little sisters: so utterly chaotic, exasperating and always beloved.
“Yes,” she whispered. “We are.”
