Her first instinct was to defend her friend, but less than a moment’s reflection told her the redhead was right. Clarissa was a wonderful, loyal friend – but the woman in front of her was possibly the jolliest person she’d ever laid eyes on. She was infectiously jolly. Almost—
‘Painfully jolly, isn’t she? Oh, don’t glare at me, Lissie. You know it’s true,’ said Tessa.
Etta turned to Tessa and raised an eyebrow. ‘Not you, though?’
Lissie laughed behind her, in reply. ‘Oh no, not Tessa.’
Tessa coughed, pointedly, and turned to Etta. ‘Miss Bainbridge, Tessa Bramley.’
She dipped into a half-hearted curtsey.
‘It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance, Henrietta,’ said Lissie, dipping to mirror her sister.
‘Lissie! You know that’s too informal. Miss Bainbridge—’
Etta had seen enough. ‘Etta. Call me Etta. It is bloody brilliant to meet you both.’
Both sisters seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief. Tessa was the first to recover. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said. ‘We have a reputation, you know.’
‘Yes,’ Lissie added. ‘For being a little … raucous.’
Etta sat back, so she could smile at them both at the same time. ‘Raucous is good. I can handle raucous.’
At that, Lissie jumped up and grabbed Etta’s hand, hauling her up, too. ‘Well, there we are, then. Do you know,’ she added mischievously, ‘I very much think we should go and check out Lady Dinklage’s orangery.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Tessa said, as they walked briskly toward the nearest door. ‘Mustn’t forget to peruse the orangery.’
It didn’t exactly require a superior intellect to understand that something interesting awaited Etta in Lady Dinklage’s orangery, but as she followed Tessa and Lissie and caught a familiar scent wafting on the air she quickly knew this was wholly new territory.
The glass of the orangery was opaque with smoke – marijuana smoke. She stood in the doorway and took in the scene. Cushions were piled in the central walkway, with about halfa dozen women and men her own age sitting on metal garden chairs or reclining against the raised beds. They were passing around a brown pipe – an old-fashioned sort of thing she vaguely remembered some uncle from her youth carrying – with the unmistakable scent of weed on the air. So this is what had been behind all of those closed doors.
It was reminiscent of her school prom, except with muslin instead of net and much, much better hair.
Lissie grabbed her hand and hauled her down to a cushion right next to her brother, who looked up and grinned at her lazily. ‘Ahh, Miss Bainbridge. Welcome to the club. I see you’ve met my sisters. Are you familiar with this unique herb? Lady Dinklage’s late husband was rather fascinated by botany, so we never fail to attend her soirees.’
Etta adjusted her skirts thoughtfully. Now she came to think of it, there really was no reason weed wouldn’t be smoked in Regency England, was there? Sure, Georgette Heyer didn’t exactly dwell on it, but then there was an awful lot the historical romance genre hadn’t prepared her for.
Etta sighed, the desire to fit in perfectly complemented by the urgent need to let loose. ‘Pass it over, then,’ she said.
Lord George Bramley raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, but handed the pipe over. ‘I think you’ll make a nice little addition to our group, Miss Bainbridge.’
She lay back on her cushion as the high hit, looking around her.
‘So you’re telling me you’ve all been hiding in orangeries getting wasted while I’ve been sitting at the side of the ballrooms watching stuffy people dancing and getting ragged on by Maria Marley?’
‘But that’s not all you’ve been up to, is it?’ asked Tessa.‘I hear you’re practically engaged to our good friend Lord Stanhope.’
Lord Bramley winked. ‘Shame.’
Etta couldn’t remember the last time she’d smoked weed – university, probably, back before everyone had gone back to their respective hometowns to work remotely or marry their childhood sweethearts. Lady Dinklage’s marijuana was not the same oregano-laced stuff they’d sold in Manchester’s Piccadilly Gardens, for sure.
She blinked, trying to focus. ‘Lord Stanhope. He’s perfect. Seems too good to be true. Not sure I’m a good enough girl for him, though. And, well, marriage … Should you really marry someone you haven’t known all that long?’
Etta refused the pipe as it made its way round again. Lissie giggled and handed it to the woman next to her before hugging Etta impulsively.
‘Oh, I’m certain you are. And don’t we all marry strangers, anyway?’
Lissie had a point there. Tessa joined in the hug, clearly off her face.
