Lydia’s mama leant in and hissed. ‘I heard the poor man was run through and died of his wounds.’
The group shrieked in horror and turned as one towards Rawden Voss, but where he had lurked, there was now just shadow and emptiness, a little like the man himself.
‘Oh, he has gone, thank goodness,’ cried Lydia as if she had been in mortal danger. ‘The man had the most appalling glower on him, enough to curdle milk, don’t you think? And that scar. Goodness.’
‘I heard it was from a French blade, my dears,’ said Lady Prudence. ‘At the battle of Leipzig, Rawden Voss fought in the Austrian ranks.’
‘Well, maybe. We might never know the truth of his murky parentage, for I am told his family hail from Saxony several generations back. So he is not only a rogue but a foreigner too,’ spat Lady Alice, as if this was some irredeemable defect, far greater than killing a man at sword point.
Lady Prudence was not about to let Lady Alice gain the upper hand. ‘I believe Rawden Voss earned his scars defending you all from that scourge, Napoleon. He is a hero of the Life Guards.’ With this last volley, she moved off into the crowd.
Lady Alice was not about to concede defeat. ‘Yes, but even if that is the case, such scarred and broken men should hide themselves from decent company, not come amongst us to frighten us with their wounds,’ she spat.
‘But should we not applaud them for their sacrifice?’ said Grace.
Lady Alice sneered down her nose at Grace. ‘Yes, of course,’ she snapped. ‘But they should not be making a show of themselves in polite company.’ Alice Granston lowered her voice. ‘My friend, Lady Prudence, may declare him a hero of the battlefield and the scourge of Naploeon’s armies. But we must give him a wide berth as he is seldom received in polite circles.’ She leant in conspiratorially, and all the young ladies did the same. ‘I also heard that, at Leipzig, Rawden Voss slaughtered a hundred men. Shot them or ran them through with his rapier, the savage,’ she hissed, to gasps of horror from all.
Grace groaned inwardly at their gossiping, but thankfully, Lady Granston was easily distracted. ‘Ah, there is my friend, Mrs. Ellis. Excuse me, ladies,’ she said, brightening and rushing away.
Lydia brought a gloved hand to her lips in horror. ‘To kill all those men. Is that not horrible?’ said Harriet.
‘Is that not the point of a battlefield?’ offered Grace to the group, and all eyes turned to her.
‘My, what a vengeful nature you have, Miss Howden,’ said Lydia with barely contained malice.
Grace’s face burned at her scrutiny. ‘What I mean to say is, Napoleon is no friend to England, and if he insists on invading half of Europe, surely his armies deserve violence?’
‘Well, they will most certainly get it from that blackguard, Rawden Voss. My word, Miss Howden, you are very forward with your opinions.’
‘I have read widely on the subject, and it is the truth. Since Napoleon’s escape from Elba, Europe is holding its breath for news of a fresh war.’
Lydia smirked and looked around at her friends. ‘Carry on in that vein, and the ton will consider you a bluestocking, and that will surely dash your hopes of a husband, my dear.’
‘I assure you that should I seek a husband, I would never hide my mind from him.’
Lydia sighed as if she was talking to a vexing child. ‘As one who moves in these circles often, let me advise you. There is nothing wrong with elevating one’s mind. But let me share a morsel of advice. No man wants a wife more accomplished or well-read than he is.’
The other young ladies all nodded in agreement, even Harriet. Grace burned at their disapproval, though she did not care for most of them. They soon resumed their trite conversation, and so she took her leave. ‘I think some refreshment is in order,’ she said, heading for the punch bowl.
As she walked away, Lydia’s bark carried over the melee. ‘Grace Howden is a little coarse for this company. Provincial manners can be forgiven, but prideful opinions cannot. You should be more discerning of the company you keep, Harriet.’
Another voice chipped in. ‘Yes, pity is one thing, but putting yourself at a social disadvantage by dragging its object in your wake is quite another.’
Grace choked back tears of rage and did not wait for Harriet’s reply. She headed to the punch bowl, though it was tricky getting through the throng, and several guests tutted at her as she elbowed her way through.
Within minutes, Harriet appeared by her side. ‘Escaping into the evils of drink, dear friend?’ she said.
‘Forgive me. I am out of my depth with your friends and their finely-honed manners and conversation.’
‘Do not be sarcastic. It does not suit you. And you always tended to dwell on rather serious subjects, even at school.’ Her gloved hand rested on Grace’s arm. ‘I do not judge you for it.’
‘Life was much simpler then, was it not?’
‘Yes. We were too silly friends together getting into scrapes.’
‘And I value your friendship,’ said Grace. ‘You were the only good thing about Miss Lawson’s Academy for Young Ladies. But now you have new friends, and I am sorry you have had to drag me in your wake all season.’
Harriet grimaced. ‘Hush now. I enjoy your company tremendously, and I know my London friends seem intimidating at first. Indeed, I am not always fully at ease in their company, for they are so quick-witted, but they have been with me throughout the season, and I am sure you will warm to them.’
