“Do you fear intelligent women?” Mrs. Stowe said.
“How can I fear something that doesn’t exist?”
“Just because you fail to see it, does not necessarily mean that it doesn’t exist,” Mrs. Stowe said. “Men can be extraordinarily unobservant. They only see what they wish to see.”
“I beg to disagree, madam,” came the reply, “for I find myself compelled to see you and your”—he turned his attention to Olivia, hiseyes glittering with disdain—“friend.” He folded his arms and smiled. “Would you permit me to bestow some friendly advice upon you, madam?”
“I find it unlikely that any advice offered would be given with the intent of friendship, but I will hear anything you wish to say, Sir Heath,” Mrs. Stowe said.
He narrowed his eyes, but his smile broadened. showing white, even teeth. “Just so,” he said, the undertone of a snarl in his voice. “If not friendship, then a concern for your reputation. A widow may benefit from her late husband’s status in Society, but only if she’s in possession of a title and a fortune. A penniless widow compelled to reduce herself to trade, however, must take the greatest of care not to risk her reputation by associating herself with those who may cast a stain on it.”
Mrs. Stowe raised her eyebrows—the only sign that Sir Heath’s insult had hit home.
“I fail to see how attending Lady Fairchild’s ball is likely to place my reputation at risk, sir,” she said, “unless you fear I’m at risk of being compromised by predatory males, of whom there are plenty here tonight.” She met his gaze, unblinking. “Well,one, at least.”
He let out a cold laugh. “You can be assured, madam, that any predatory males in the room tonight would not stoop to sniffing round widows past their prime”—he glanced toward Olivia, wrinkling his nose—“or bastards.”
Olivia stepped back, wincing at the contempt in his voice. Mrs. Stowe rose to her feet.
“If I were a man, I’d call you out for that, Sir Heath. However, it would not be of any benefit to the world, given that you’re too poor a shot and too much of a coward to face me by yourself at dawn. I believe you pay others to undertake the task for you.”
She stepped toward him, and his eyes flared with fear.
“But,” she continued, “I do not tolerate incivility, and neither doesLord Fairchild. If you wish not to be thrown out onto the street tonight, I demand you retract your insult toward Miss Whitcombe.”
“Yes,” he sneered, “Miss Whitcombe, notLady Olivia, as some poor, deluded fools have been deceived into believing. Though I’ve heard that at one time you were known as Miss FitzRoy. How tiresome it must be to have such uncertainty over one’s name.”
He dipped his head in a bow, his lips curled into a mocking smile.
“Do forgive any transgression, Miss Whitcombe,” he said. “I ought to have referred to…natural children. I believe that’s the term we must use in Polite Society. But I must express my concern on behalf of those of us in possession of a name and good breeding. Those of low birth, or no birth at all, can never truly belong in Society.”
“How dare—” Mrs. Stowe began, but Olivia caught her arm.
“It matters not,” she said. “I-I’ve no wish to discuss my birth with this…gentleman.”
“I see no gentleman,” Mrs. Stowe said. “I see a—”
Sir Heath raised his hand. “I’m sure your description of me would be most intriguing to any man who considered your opinion worth hearing. Unfortunately, I fail to see any such man in the company tonight.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, I see the dance is coming to an end. I must find Miss Peacock, who is promised to me for the next. You’d both do well to resume your seats. Unpartnered women in a ball exude such an air of desperation when standing, do they not?”
“I am not unpartnered, Sir Heath,” Olivia said. “Mr. Arnott asked me to dance a second time.”
“Oh,didhe?” Sir Heath gave a sly smile, then retreated.
Olivia curled her hands into fists to temper the trembling in her body. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she bit her lip to stem the flow as her cheeks warmed.
A thin, lace-gloved hand took hers.
“Pay no attention to him, my dear,” Mrs. Stowe said. “Men such as him, and women such as Miss Peacock, take their pleasure from seeingthe distress of those whom they wish to torment.”
“But what he said…”
“Is of no consequence to anyone who really matters. Those who cannot see your worth are, in turn, of no value themselves.”
“Eleanor says the same.”
“A sensible woman,” Mrs. Stowe said. “Not all men are like Sir Heath, and for that we can thank the Almighty. There are many men of value.”
“Was the late Mr. Stowe such a man?” Olivia asked.
