The blonde's face scrunched in thought. "Miss Appleby?"
"No, sister dear, Lady Eleanor is referring to the chit in yellow," the gentleman said in a snide tone. "Dear me, what is her name… it's ridiculous, Aphrodite or something…"
Percy's cheeks grew hot as she looked down at her pale jonquil skirts.
"She smells of shop," Lady Eleanor said. "And she's no less common this Season than she was the last. Do you recall what she told Lord Overton last year?"
The blonde giggled. "How could I forget? He gave such an amusing account of it. He asked her about her hobbies, and she regaled him with the details of some sordidnovelshe was working on. A novel, imagine that!"
"Common, as I said. The only reason anyone is paying her any attention is that vulgar dowry of hers." Lady Eleanor sneered. "'Tis like waving a red flag in front of maddened bulls."
"Impoverished ones, more like." The gentleman finished off his champagne. "Ain't a title I know of who don't need more blunt, and chits with plump pockets are in shortage this Season. In point of fact, I may have to have a go at our little shop girl turned authoress myself."
"My dear Miss Fines, is that you standing by those atrocious remains?"
At the sound of the musical voice, the gossip halted on the other side of the sarcophagi. Percy spun around. Mortified, she recognized Lady Marianne Draven, a bosom friend of the Marchioness of Harteford. With her moon-bright hair and classically sculpted features, Lady Draven cast all other females in the shade. Tonight, a gauzy silver gown caressed her willowy figure, and a string of emeralds circled her slender neck, the jewels outshone by her striking green eyes. Percy much admired the widowed baroness who was not only beautiful, but also independent and terribly clever.
"Good evening, my lady." How much of the sniping had Lady Draven overheard? Despite the humiliation churning her stomach, Percy managed a proper curtsy. "It's so nice to see a familiar face."
The baroness smiled. "I imagine so, when so many of the unfamiliar ones are less than hospitable." In a voice that delicately carried, she said, "In my opinion, there is a thing more vulgar than your dowry, Miss Fines. Would you like to know what that is?"
Shame and misery stole Percy's words.
"Sour grapes." The edge of Lady Draven's flawless mouth curled with derision. "I, for one, am hardly surprised that the gentlemen tonight would rather enjoy champagne than cut-rate wine... or should I say, whin-ing?"
Percy heard a furious gasp from the gap between the stone coffins and instantly felt better.
"I find the air here rather stuffy," Lady Draven continued. "Won't you join me on a circle around the floor?"
"I'd love to." Once they were out of ear-shot of the trio, Percy said in a rush of gratitude, "Thank you for intervening, my lady. Though, I must confess, the situation was in part of my own making. I ought not to have eavesdropped."
"Perhaps not. But Eleanor Worthington and her smug superiority set my teeth on edge."
Lady Draven coolly surveyed the room as they walked; one had the feeling those green eyes missed little. All around, gentlemen hovered like insects, trying to get her attention. Fascinated, Percy made note of how she shooed them away with a glance or a flick of her fan. Percy strove to keep her own pace as sedate and graceful as her companion's. To quash her tendency to rush along or, as Mama described it,pell-mell, as if all the world's afire.
"I fear I shan't ever fit in here, my lady," Percy said in glum tones.
"Good God, why bother to try? You've spirit, which I'll take over insipidity any day," Lady Draven said. "By the by, let us drop the tiresome formalities, shall we… Percy?"
"Absolutely, Marianne," Percy said, flattered. "And whilst I do enjoy your company ever so much, I feel I should ask… being seen with me won't bring down your countenance, will it?"
"My dear, you have the wrong impression," the other drawled, waving her feathered fan. Between her long, gloved fingers, diamonds glittered on the sticks. "Between the two of us, I far outrank you in notoriety."
Percy grinned. "In that case, I can only hopeyoudon't rub off onme."
Marianne's laughter pealed like silver bells. "A minx after my own heart. How delightful. Now tell me—what have you heard from the Hartefords of late?"
"The last letter I received was over a fortnight ago. Helena wrote that they were enjoying Venice immensely, though the twins were driving everyone mad. Apparently, one of them nearly overturned the gondola during a trip through the canals whilst the other got them ejected from a cafe on the Piazza for trying to lure the pigeons in with his tea cakes."
"The little hellions take after their mother it seems."
"Jeremiah and Thomas, like Helena?" Percy said, surprised. "Surely not. She is the most proper lady I know."
"You'd be surprised." Her lips faintly curved, Marianne said, "And you, Percy? How are you faring in your family's absence?"
"Oh, I'm keeping busy..."—trying to save my brother, kissing a ruthless rogue—"... with a little of this, little of that." Percy sounded nervous even to her own ears.
Green eyes narrowed. "Indeed. Who is your chaperone tonight? At an event like this, sticklers are everywhere."
