Wilhelmina trailed behind, oblivious to the exchange, as Lady Grisham continually ensured. She was always careful to keep the barbs meant for Elizabeth under her breath or whisper them in Elizabeth’s ear.
Elizabeth had thought of telling Wilhelmina about her mother’s words but ultimately felt that this revelation would turn the Grisham townhouse into a battlefield. And the twins didn’t deserve that. Wilhelmina didn’t deserve that either; she was younger than Elizabeth, for heaven’s sake. She needn’t carry Elizabeth’s burdens.
For every moment that Wilhelmina stood up for her, Elizabeth would keep her sister safe from this knowledge. Even if Lady Grisham’s words stung. She’d do it for her sisters.
Then, Elizabeth’s gaze lifted to the chandelier, letting its brilliance soothe her for just a moment.
If she could secure some sort of future, a respectable, acceptable one… then Lady Grisham would leave her alone. That was enough.
But as they stepped further into the room, she could feel the shift around her. The murmurs. The stares.
They remember.
Of course they did. A fall in the mud, laughter, a ruined dress…and now she was back, somehow trying to hold her head up as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't been laughed out of the garden.
“Smile, dear,” Lady Grisham’s voice cut in sweet and venomous. “Do not ever forget what is at stake. If they see you can recover, they’ll believe Wilhelmina and the girls have hope. Otherwise…”
She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
Elizabeth obeyed. She curved her lips into a pleasant, practiced expression. One that did not reach her eyes.
A smile for Wilhelmina. A smile for the twins.
A smile to protect them both.
And later…
A lesson with the Duke.
Whatever that meant.
Elizabeth glanced to her right and saw Wilhelmina beaming girlishly at everyone.
“Yes, I amabsolutelydelighted to be here!” Wilhelmina declared, her voice clear and sweet. “Though I must admit, I didn’t realize a musicale could double as a corset-tightening competition.”
“Wilhelmina,” Lady Grisham hissed through her teeth, not breaking her smile. “You are slouching. And you’re starting to follow your sister’s ways.”
That one stung.
But Wilhelmina, unbothered, tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, if Elizabeth’s ways include not fainting from boredom or strangling myself with etiquette, then I should like to follow them more often.”
Lady Grisham’s nostrils flared, but Wilhelmina had already turned her head toward the gathering crowd, fluttering her fan with mock delicacy.
Elizabeth almost smiled. Her sister was everything she wasn’t: bold, quick, impossible to tame. But at that moment, that sharp tongue of hers felt like the only shield between them and the marchioness’s icy disapproval.
And the fact that Wilhelmina wielded it with charm? That was a gift.
“I do love a good possibility for scandal,” Seth murmured beside him, his voice full of mirth as he surveyed the assembly like a wolf scenting easy prey.
Across the hall, Alasdair stepped inside without ceremony, moving with the unbothered stride of a man who’d long stopped caring about approval. Especially from Englishmen with polished boots and rotting hearts.
He scanned the crowd, his jaw tight. The same painted smiles. The same brittle laughter. The same gentry who’d sneer behind their gloves and call him savage when they thought he wasn’t listening.
Alasdair knew what they looked like to this crowd. A rake and a Highland brute. Not the most arrogant men in the room, no, but perhaps the most unpredictable. That alone stirred whispers. And tonight, he couldn’t deny the dark pleasure in knowing his presence unsettled them.
“Is that how ye make yer entrance every time, then?” Alasdair drawled.
“Yes,” Seth replied shamelessly. “You must know where to look. For example, do you see that young widow by the pillar? She’s looking your way, and she’s already blushing. There’s also Lady Sophie, on her third season and looking at you as if she’s peeling off your breeches.”