The maid leaned in. “I heard it from one of the footmen, who heard it from…well, never mind. But Lady Honoria says the proposal was witnessed. In the music room. Last night.”
Louisa cringed. “Who. Saw.”
The maid hesitated, then muttered, “Could be anyone, milady. They say he was very loud.”
Louisa flopped back against the pillow, glaring at the ceiling. She could already envision the chain reaction. A single careless moment spun into a web that would ensnare half the county. It was a truth universally acknowledged that a gentleman with a fortune, a title, and a complete lack of discretion was always in need of a rumor.
She dressed quickly, cinching her stays so tight she could barely breathe, then swept downstairs to face the gossip. The corridors were alive with whispers and the rustle of servants moving at triple speed. No fewer than three maids curtsied as she passed, all casting identical, sidelong glances at her.
In the breakfast room, Lady Featherstone greeted her with a smile so artificial it might have been painted on. “Dearest Louisa! What delightful news. Lord Foxmere is quite the catch. Oh, I know he is a bit… spirited, but all the best men are.”
Louisa poured herself coffee with a steady hand. “You must be misinformed, madam. There is no news. Merely a misunderstanding.”
The woman tittered. “Of course, of course. But the young men do so love to dramatize. My own husband proposed during a footrace, you know. Everyone swore he was drunk, but I chose to believe it was passion.”
Louisa considered pouring the coffee directly into her own lap.
Lady Honoria swept in next, trailed by her usual entourage. Her gown, a fierce buttercup yellow, was designed to upstage even the sun. She took a seat directly opposite Louisa, propped her chin on one lace-gloved hand, and regarded her with intense curiosity.
“Lady Louisa,” she purred. “Do tell us when the banns are to be read. It’s all anyone can talk about.”
Louisa smiled sweetly. “I hear you are already rehearsing your role as bridesmaid, Lady Honoria. Shall we begin fittings this afternoon?”
Nervous giggles rippled among the other ladies, but Honoria was undeterred. “I do hope Lord Foxmere recovers quickly from his celebrations. He seemed quite… exhausted this morning.”
Louisa’s cup rattled in its saucer. “He is remarkably resilient. Or so I am told.”
As if summoned, Niall, Lord Foxmere, strolled into the room, embodying the debauched earl. His hair a shade too wild, eyes bloodshot but alert, and cravat knotted with careless defiance. He strode straight to the sideboard, loaded his plate with toast and bacon, and flopped into a chair three places down from Louisa.
He did not look at her.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said, his voice rough but civil. “Lovely day, is it not?”
Lady Featherstone clapped her hands. “Lord Foxmere! We were just congratulating Lady Louisa on her excellent match. I trust you will join us for the announcement at luncheon?”
Niall blinked, then shot Louisa a glance so brief and fraught with apology it might have gone unnoticed—except that Lady Honoria noticed everything.
He managed a strained smile. “I hate to disappoint, Lady Featherstone, but I believe you may be the victim of a cruel hoax. Lady Louisa has, to my knowledge, received no such proposal from me.”
The silence that followed was thick. Louisa felt all eyes pivot to her, waiting for confirmation or denial.
She chose honesty, mostly for the novelty. “It was a jest,” she said. “A very poor one, undertaken at an unseemly hour. I am not, nor shall I ever be, engaged to Lord Foxmere.”
A footman, entering with a fresh pot of tea, nearly tripped over the carpet in his eagerness.
Lady Honoria leaned in, her voice syrupy. “But my dear, I heard it from three separate sources. You were seen in the music room together, and I am told there was an exchange of vows.”
Louisa set her cup down. “The only exchange was of insults, I assure you.”
Niall cleared his throat, as if to signal agreement, then added, “She did dare me, Lady Honoria. It was not, however, a binding contract.”
Lady Honoria’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “What a shame. The entire house is on tenterhooks.”
Louisa ground her molars together, fighting the urge to upend the sugar bowl onto Honoria’s head. Instead, she turned to Lady Featherstone. “Might I request that no further mention of this ‘engagement’ be made? It is a matter of reputation, and I would not wish to damage Lord Foxmere’s standing with such a foolish story.”
Niall snorted, almost a laugh. “If my reputation is not already irreparable, it soon will be.”
Lady Featherstone nodded, but with the helpless air of someone who knows a rumor is already outpacing the truth. “Of course, dear. Discretion is key, least you yourself be ruined.”
