“I… I…” she managed, unable to form words.
“Will you take breakfast with us?” Lucy offered quickly, rescuing her.
“Oh, thank you, my dear, but I have already eaten.” Lady Evandale gave her a warm smile. “Come—let us sit. We must discuss what is to be done.”
Evelyn sat, her pulse hammering. If Lady Evandale knew, then the news had spread through all of society. Shame coiled in her stomach. With everything else weighing upon her, she could hardly bear this additional torment. Yet Lady Evandale was wise and influential—if anyone might advise her, it was she.
“My mother must not hear of it,” Evelyn whispered.
“No,” Lady Evandale agreed at once. “And she shall not. She goes out so seldom that she is unlikely to be told.”
“What of your ball?” Lucy asked. “What if one of the guests mentions it to her?”
Evelyn froze. She had entirely forgotten about the ball—Lady Evandale’s famous summer gathering, held the day after tomorrow. Though many of the ton would be out of London on their estates, enough would remain to ensure a sizable crowd. The thought of facing them—of enduring the whispers, the sidelong glances—made her stomach twist.
“I cannot go,” she said at once. “I am so sorry, Lady Evandale. It was very kind of you to invite me, but I cannot possibly—”
“Nonsense, my dear.” Lady Evandale’s tone was gentle but firm. “Of course you must attend. It is an important opportunity.”
“But no one will look at me without thinking—” Evelyn’s voice broke. Even imagining the speculation made her feel faint.
“Hush, dear child,” Lady Evandale said kindly, interrupting her before she could finish. “Do not forget that I possess some influence of my own. I shall have it put about that the article was malicious slander—and so it was. Many in society have been unfairly treated by these sheets. They will believe it.”
Evelyn stared at her, gratitude swelling achingly in her chest. “My lady—you would do that for me?”
“It is no more than you would do for someone you cared for,” Lady Evandale said warmly. “You risked your life to save a stranger. I should be ashamed of our society if such courage were repaid with ostracism.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn whispered, tears slipping free.
“We shall also ensure that Lady Calperton hears nothing of it,” Lucy added quietly.
Lady Evandale nodded. “Yes. That is essential.” She looked at Evelyn. “Is your mother awake?”
“She is usually up by now,” Evelyn replied. “She may join us shortly.”
Evelyn did not wish to disturb her mother’s daily routine, even if it might be polite to inform her of her friend’s visit. It was hard for Mama to leave her chamber sometimes, and the more familiar and uninterrupted her morning, the easier the rest of her day usually proved to be.
Lady Evandale settled comfortably into her chair. Evelyn poured her tea, earning a grateful smile.
Evelyn crossed to the fireplace and watched the last scraps of the scandal sheet curl into ash. It felt symbolic—like drawing a curtain across something ugly.
Mama joined them soon after for half an hour, though she tired quickly. Lady Evandale rose soon after as well.
“I shall see you all at my home soon,” she said as she took her leave. “I look forward to it.”
“Thank you, Lady Evandale,” Evelyn said sincerely. “Thank you—truly.”
The countess gave her a warm smile, and Evelyn and Lucy accompanied her to the front door, where her coach waited.
“Good day, my dears,” Lady Evandale said kindly. Evelyn embraced her impulsively—an earnest gesture that drew a gentler, deeper smile from the older woman.
“Thank you, Lady Evandale,” Evelyn said again, her voice steadier now. “I cannot thank you enough.”
“It is nothing at all, dear,” Lady Evandale assured her. She waved, allowed the coachman to assist her inside, and the coach soon rolled away.
“I do not know how to thank her,” Evelyn murmured, her knees weak with relief.
“I think she was glad to help you,” Lucy said softly. “Now—we have quite a great deal to prepare.”
