Lady Blanchly’s open carriage pulled to a halt on the street beside where Beth now walked. Seated beside her was Lady Hyndmarsh, looking pretty in pale blue, her porcelain skin glowing in the morning light.
“Lady Blanchly, Lady Hyndmarsh.” Beth executed the perfect curtsey, which took up a few more seconds of her time while she attempted to come up with a suitable reason as to why she was here, alone.
“I see no one accompanying you, Miss Whitlow. Surely you have not ventured out alone?”
“My maid is following, but I am quite old enough to do so, should I wish it, Lady Blanchly,” Beth said in what she liked to term her social voice. It was really a testament to her ability to present just the right facade at just the right moment, that she was able to then smile and offer a small laugh. “I am, after all, well past the age of worrying about such things.” She wasn’t, but she was not giving these women the satisfaction of seeing her off-balance.
“But your fiancé,” Harriet said with a particularly vile smile on her bow-shaped lips. “Surely he has no wish for you to do so?”
“Oh, my darling fiancé cares not a wit. You see, ours is a love that trusts. We have complete faith in each other, and are almost of one mind.” Beth clasped her hands to her breast, which may have been ladling it on a bit thick, but suddenly she wanted to do so. Harriet was not impressed, if her scowl was any indication. “Love,” Beth sighed. “It is surely a wondrous thing.”
The woman’s mouth puckered into a tiny circle that made her look silly, and made Beth feel marginally better. After all, this was the woman Leo loved, and why that annoyed her she had no idea, as she wanted no part of him... did she?
