“Indeed. She’s by the refreshment table with her husband—newly married and quite intolerably happy about it.” Lady Weatherby’s eyes twinkled. “Do go speak with her. She’ll be thrilled.”
As Catherine moved away, guided by a discreetly summoned footman, the older woman turned back to Adrian and Marianne.
“Now then,” she said, lowering her voice, “you should know there’s been talk. Quite a lot of it, in fact.”
“I am shocked,” Adrian said drily.
“Yes, well, the remarkable part is that most of it is in your favour.” Lady Weatherby unfurled her fan, shielding her lips from would-be lip-readers. “Venetia made more enemies than she realised. Your little confrontation merely gave them permission to admit it. Lady Thornton has been particularly vocal in her gratitude—for your intervention with her daughter’s… situation.”
“How is the poor lady?” Marianne asked, genuine concern in her tone.
“Recovering. Her mother has secured proper medical help—discreetly, of course—and she’s responding well. Thanks largely to your quick thinking that night, they say.” Lady Weatherby’s expression softened. “You did a good thing, my dear. Several good things, in fact.”
Before Marianne could reply, a stir at the entrance drew their attention. Lord and Lady Harrison had arrived, fashionably late as always, and Lady Harrison’s eyes found Marianne’s across the ballroom with surgical precision.
“Ah,” Lady Weatherby murmured. “Your first test. She’s been most vocal about theupstart merchant duchesswho dared to challenge her betters.”
“Has she?” Adrian’s voice carried that low, silken danger that made Marianne’s pulse quicken even as her instincts urged caution.
“Adrian,” she murmured, touching his arm lightly—a gesture that looked like affection but was pure restraint. “I can handle Lady Harrison.”
“I know you can.” His hand covered hers, warm and steady. “That doesn’t mean I have to like watching it.”
Lady Harrison approached like a ship under full sail, her purple turban nodding with every step, her expression one of exquisitely controlled disdain. Her husband trailed behind, already eyeing the card room with longing.
“Lady Weatherby,” she said coolly. Her gaze slid to Adrian and Marianne. “Your Graces.”
The slight pause before the title was deliberate, just long enough to be insulting but not quite enough to be called out for it.
“Lady Harrison,” Marianne returned sweetly. “How delightful to see you again. I trust you’ve recovered from the excitement at Worthington Manor?”
“I wasn’t aware therewasexcitement. I departed before any… unpleasantness occurred.”
The lie was transparent; everyone knew she’d been present for Venetia’s downfall.
“How fortunate for you. Though you missed quite a revealing evening. Lady Venetia was most... instructive on the nature of society friendships.”
Lady Harrison coloured. She had been one of Venetia’s devotees—laughing at her cruelty when it served her, recoiling now that it no longer did.
“I hardly knew the woman,” she insisted.
“Really? How strange. I could have sworn I saw you together quite often. But then, perhaps my merchant eyes are unaccustomed to the subtleties of society vision.”
Adrian made a sound that might have been a cough but came dangerously close to laughter. Lady Weatherby’s fan fluttered in alarmed amusement.
“Your… merchant background does, perhaps, limit your understanding of certain nuances,” Lady Harrison said stiffly.
“Oh, undoubtedly. For instance, in trade, when one finds oneself indebted, there is at least the courtesy of repayment. In society, however, I understand such obligations are… more fluid—particularly when one’s creditor becomes a duchess, and thus in no further need of trifles like coin.”
The colour drained from Lady Harrison’s face. It was common knowledge she had borrowed heavily from Venetia to cover gambling losses—debts paid, in part, through gossip and complicity.
“I don’t know what you’re implying—”
“I imply nothing. I state facts. Something we merchants are rather good at—keeping ledgers straight.” Marianne tilted her head slightly. “Though I suppose Lady Venetia’s recent engagement has balanced more than one account. How fortunate that certain obligations should vanish with a change of name.”
“You go too far—”
“Do I?” Marianne stepped closer. Though several inches shorter, she carried herself with a composure that made the older woman retreat. “I think, rather, I have not gone nearly far enough. You stood by while Lady Venetia amused herself at theexpense of others. You laughed at her malice. You watched her attempt to ruin my family and found it diverting. And now you presume to questionmyplace in society?”
