She spoke with warmth, remembered names, and accepted compliments with practiced grace. More than once, she caught sight of her mother watching proudly from across the room while Emily and Poppy whispered together with barely disguised excitement. It should have been a perfect night, and for a time, it was.
Margaret had just stepped away from a group near the orchestra when a voice spoke behind her.
“Your Grace.”
She turned.
Miss Arabella Vaughn stood a few steps away.
The woman was striking, Margaret had noticed that the moment she had seen her weeks before; dark hair arranged with effortless elegance, eyes bright and assessing beneath long lashes. She wore pink, a contrast with Margaret’s blue. They were very different, and that thought remained with her.
Margaret inclined her head politely. She had not remembered inviting her, but then she had invited the entireton, so it wasentirely possible that her housekeeper had written the invitation herself.
“Miss Vaughn.”
Arabella smiled. It was perfectly courteous, yet something about it felt sharpened.
“I wished to offer my congratulations,” Arabella said smoothly. “The evening is magnificent.”
“You are kind,” Margaret replied. “We are pleased our guests are enjoying themselves.”
“I cannot imagine anyone failing to,” Arabella said lightly, her gaze drifting around the glittering ballroom.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
“I confess, however, I was surprised to receive an invitation.”
Margaret blinked faintly.
“Surprised?”
“Yes.”
Arabella’s smile deepened just enough to suggest amusement.
“I had not expected to be included.”
“I see no reason you should not be,” Margaret said calmly.
“Didn’t he tell you?” she said gently.
“Tell me what?”
Arabella’s voice remained perfectly pleasant, her smile not having changed at all. Margaret felt something inside her still.
“He has been rather absent. You have noticed that, have you not? I mean, any good wife would have. I did not want to tell you this, but… well, if your husband will not be a man and tell you, then I shall have to. He has been with me.”
The words landed softly.
Too softly for what she had suggested.
“I see.”
Arabella’s gaze held hers, steady and deliberate.
“I had expected him to feel it would be improper to include me tonight,” she added with a faint shrug. “Given the time we spent together.”
The implication slipped into the space between them like cold air. Margaret felt it immediately, a quiet, creeping chill beneath her ribs.
