“How distant, exactly?” Lady Penrose replied, her face a mask of sweetness.
“Ah, tea!” Hope almost shouted with relief as the footman entered with a tray. “Shall I pour? Two sugars, I believe, Lady Penrose?”
As Hope served the guests in a very particular order, a careful dance of hierarchy ensued, in which the Sangfords were obliged to concede that their relation to the queen—such as it was—ranked lower than an actual title. With everyone’s place confirmed, the conversation proceeded rather more sedately, and Verity found herself the focus of their now-undivided attention.
“Which will be the first ball your sister attends, Mrs. Sinclair?” Lady Penrose wanted to know.
“I believe it to be hosted by the Macraes,” Hope replied. They always draw a lovely crowd, and Verity will be able to meet a wide range of Munro’s inhabitants.”
“Yes,” Lady Penrose agreed, but without the same enthusiasm. “They are rather modern in that way. But what canone expect from descendants of Jacobites? They may be loyal to the Crown now, but their thinking has always been a little… different.”
Verity’s ears pricked up. Different? Bless Hope’s heart! The Macraes soundedexactlylike the sort of people Verity would get along with. And everyone attending would feel the same way. How wonderful! Even better, it meant that the backstabbing, two-faced Penroses and Sangfords and their ilk would avoid the gathering at all costs. How positively heavenly!
“Of course,” Lady Penrose continued, “wewill be at Munro House for the viscount and viscountess’s ball. The event will be for gentry only. Rather different than the Macraes, who throw their home open to just about anyone.”
“I believe Lord and Lady Howell intend to grace the Macraes with their presence,” Hope said in a measured tone. “And several other estate balls besides. The new viscountess is apparently a total delight. I imagine his lordship cannot wait to show off his new wife. They have been married but a six-month, and yet all who encounter them say the change in the viscount is marked. He has quite shed his previously taciturn nature. How lucky we are when we find someone who brings out the best in us!”
“I shall see that with my own eyes before I believe it,” Mrs. Sangford mumbled. All heads—bar those of the Misses Sangford—turned to her in surprise. She shifted in her chair.
“Why, mydearMrs. Sangford,” Lady Penrose retorted, “how can you speak thus of our finest citizen? He has done nothing but good for our fair city.”
“Cities don’t have feelings,” Mrs. Sangford answered bitterly.
Lady Penrose’s head jerked up. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure I don’t understand your meaning. Would you be so good as to explain?”
Mrs. Sangford glared at the baroness. She did not answer immediately. If Lady Penrose had meant to humiliate her, she was unwilling to take the bait.
She glanced at her daughters. They sat in equally uncomfortable silence. At the sight of her unhappy children, Mrs. Sangford was at once transformed. She lifted her head and sat taller, her mouth tightening, eyes blazing, as the mother tigress within rushed to the surface.
“Both my daughters have been slighted by that man.” She growled. “Some viscount he is. He has the manners of a peasant!” She almost spat the words. “No wonderhe married a commoner. And a merchant’s daughter, at that! What can she offer the people of Munro but country manners to match those of her boorish husband?” Her hand waved in unison with her disdain. “Of coursethey are a good match! He would never have found a suitable wife among thetonof our fine city.”
Mrs. Sangford breathed heavily, her tirade paused but threatening to resume at the slightest provocation.
Verity, who had never met either the viscount or his “country” wife, felt at once that she must like them very much if they drew such ire from Mrs. Sangford. How wonderful that Lord Howell had found happiness. He must have, else the Sangfords would certainly have reveled in his misery. She could only respect a man who had the wisdom to look farther afield when the Munrotonseemed to offer such a meager supply of worthy women.
“Perhaps,” Lady Penrose said smoothly, “if he had waited one more season until my Frances was out in society, things would have been different. A young woman of good breeding might have offered him a better outcome.”
“Oh,no, Mama!” Miss Penrose cried. “I couldnevermarry someone so high in the instep and always in the dudgeon. Iwould far rather have a simple officer like Lieutenant Cole, who is charming and kind.”
Lady Penrose was unamused. “You can rid yourself of such thoughts immediately, Frances. Perhaps Miss Lockhart would find a young officer enticing, but he is not for you. Your father would disown you at once.”
Miss Penrose considered Verity. Envy lay shallow in her hooded eyes and scorn twisted her pouting lips. Verity could only imagine the extent of the young lady’s rage if she should discover that this very vicar’s daughter had been the bride for whom Mr. Cole had returned to Fernbridge. And, worse still, that she had written him off as husband material! The urge to scratch her itching arm returned and it was all Verity could manage to restrain herself under the hawkish gaze of Miss Penrose.
By some merciful stroke of good fortune, the hallway clock began to steadily announce the noon hour.
“Ah,” said Lady Penrose upon the first gong.
“Mama,” chimed in Miss Penrose along with the timepiece. “Did you not say…?”
“Yes, indeed,” her mother answered upon the third strike.
All the visitors rose and began their polite goodbyes.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Mrs. Sangford said to no one in particular.
“Yes, just lovely,” Miss Amelia echoed with a smile that shone like her Venetian-blonde locks. Her mother beamed at her. The dark and broody Miss Sangford remained silent.
“Such a pity we must leave so soon,” Lady Penrose insisted, shooing her daughter out before her. “So many other commitments. You understand.”
