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“But I’m her only friend. They were awful to her in school, Mother.”

“That may explain why Lydia behaves badly, but it does not excuse her cruelty. More importantly, Blanche, you are a follower. To be blunt, I believe one of the reasons you have been disappointed as regards marriage proposals, collecting them only from manifestly unsuitable men, is due to the fact you ape her mannerisms. Men are afraid of cruelty. They back away.”

Blanche felt herself turning pale. “I never meant to be cruel.”

“Lady Stella will soon be one of the most powerful women in London. How many unkind jests have you made about the future duchess, while striving to be clever?”

After a moment of silence, Blanche said, “Too many.”

“If Stella had remained the least powerful woman in high society was your behavior acceptable?”

Blanche felt shame washing over her. “No. No, I’ve been despicable.”

“Send Lydia a message saying that you cannot meet her, as we plan to visit the Dowager Duchess of Huntington, the better to congratulate her on her son’s betrothal.” Her mother rose to her feet.

Blanche nodded.

“Naturally, you will greet Lydia politely when you encounter her in a ballroom. But no more private meetings. She may well drag you into shameful behavior, and you are without the protection of a husband.”

“Lydia is not truly scandalous,” Blanche said in one final protest. “She merely kisses young men now and then. I would feel disloyal if I drop her.”

“In my opinion, you must choose between being disloyal and unmarried.” Her mother swept from the room.

Blanche sat staring at the butter-stained gossip sheet. When girls in seminary were mean to Lydia due to her father’s suicide, she and Lydia had retaliated with unkind jokes. In the hothouse environment of a girls’ school, witty put-downs felt retributory.

Justified.

They weren’t justified any longer. She had been unkind to Lady Stella. She had spread malicious gossip and even called her names behind her back.

Why?

Most often, to make Lydia laugh, because then Blanche felt as if the two of them were the cleverest women in the room. Examples of her own petty behavior flooded her memory, moments when she had uttered facile, mean jests.

Shame made her feel sick, not because of missed proposals, but because she had behaved just like the girls from seminary that she had loathed.

She had become them.

Her mother popped her head back in the room. “Your maid is waiting for you, Blanche. I should like to be the first of the dowager’s callers. I’m sure most of society will beat a path to her door.”

Blanche felt even sicker at the idea of greeting Stella. She would deserve it if the future duchess gave her the cut direct. Not that Stella would ever do such a thing, which was probably why Stella, short, eccentric Stella, had won the hand of the most eligible bachelor in London.

“You will find Her Grace in the drawing room,” the ducal butler told them when Blanche and her mother arrived at the Duke of Huntington’s mansion. “We expect a crush, and she would prefer to greet her guests personally, in lieu of formal pronouncements.”

When Blanche and her mother entered the drawing room, the first person she saw was not their hostess, but Lydia. She was standing in the middle of the room, eyes glinting, chin high. Stella and the dowager were facing her, and Mrs. Thyme was standing to the side, clutching her smelling salts.

No one noticed their entry.

“I merely said what everyone was thinking!” Lydia remarked with a shrill titter.

Future duchess or no, Stella looked exactly the same. Her spectacles were firmly on her nose, she hadn’t bothered to cover up her freckles, and she wore no lip color.

“That’s just it,” Stella responded. “Everyone was not thinking such unkind thoughts, Lydia. You were thinking them—and saying them aloud. I must ask you to restrain yourself.”

Blanche was astounded by how brave Stella was. Even when Blanche thought Lydia had gone too far, she had never dared criticize her. Fear would slosh around in her stomach like sour sherry until the impulse passed.

“Nonsense!” Lydia snorted. “I only remarked that the Duke of Huntington must be grateful for your large dowry, Lady Stella. That’s a fact. Any man would be grateful for such a bountiful gift.”

“My fiancé has no need for money,” Stella said.