The bowl returned to her again sooner than seemed natural.
“You are warned against ambition beyond your station,” Cassandra read aloud.
A murmur followed this one, heavier, more deliberate than the last.
“Wise advice,” the Dowager Duchess observed. “Particularly for young women.”
Cassandra felt the heat rise in her face but kept her expression composed. Another lady received hers, and she turned scarlet when she read it.
“You will suffer for past indiscretions.”
This time, the silence was deliberate.
Cassandra looked up slowly. She could see Sylvia watching the lady closely, eager for a reaction. The Dowager Duchess did not bother to disguise her satisfaction, nor her admiration for Sylvia. Cassandra wondered if the two ladies often delighted in offending others so greatly.
In any case, she knew once and for all that that was the purpose of the game. Cassandra exhaled, then smiled, for she was pleased that she had no real reason to placate. She had nothing to lose, in spite of what those around her thought.
“How curious,” she said lightly, “that so many fortunes concern themselves with the moral failings of women.”
Heads turned, including those of Sylvia, the Dowager, and the Duke. She was aware that her parents would be watching her,terrified of what she was about to say, but she did not care. She could not bring herself to, not when she had so clearly been challenged.
“I wonder,” she continued, her voice steady, “why there are none that address the men who so often create these scandals in the first place. They are promised the world, and the ladies are told that they must give it to them, lest they be left to ruin.”
The room stilled. No one laughed, and no one spoke. Cassandra reasoned that, as nobody was saying anything in response, she ought to continue until someone did. Or, at least, she would keep talking until she felt she had made her point.
“It is almost as though reputation is considered a feminine burden alone, and it is strange that some ladies seem to be pleased about that. Is it not? Perhaps next time, we might diversify the subject matter.”
Someone cleared their throat. Someone else looked down at their glass. Sylvia flushed, and the Dowager Duchess’ lips pressed together sharply. Cassandra placed the final slip back into the bowl.
The Duke rose, his face stern.
“That will be enough for this evening,” he said calmly. “We all have a full day ahead of you, and it would be best that we are well rested.”
There was no argument. Chairs scraped back, and guests stood, murmuring farewells and casting Cassandra glances that ranged from shocked to impressed to disapproving. She held her head high until she reached her room.
Then she considered her predicament.
It was not that she had been untoward, for truth be told she did not care about that at all. She was pleased with herself for what she had done, for she knew it was necessary to make it known that she would not tolerate slights against her. The trouble was that she had to be the one to defend herself in the first place.
She bit her lip. She was already as good as ruined, so what harm could be done by seeking answers?
She left her room and stormed down the hallway toward her room, and threw the door open. She expected to be alone, but then the Duke pushed the door open, entering without her saying he could. She was startled by the intrusion, but instinctively she ushered him in so that they would not be seen.
“You said you would not allow anyone to disrespect me,” she said, her voice hushed.
He looked at her sharply.
“You should not be here,” she said when he did not reply.
“And yet I am. That display of yours was intentional,” he said coldly. “Not to mention unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary?” she echoed. “They were attacking me openly, and I had no support.”
“And so you responded by provoking them further.”
“I defended myself.”
“You took the bait.”
