She steered gently in Clarissa's direction, because to avoid her would have been obvious. But also, because she genuinely wanted the reunion to go well. She was aware that this made her, in certain estimations, foolish.
Caroline had once said as much, in the gentle, sideways manner Caroline used when she wanted Genevieve to hear something she suspected Genevieve already knew. “She is not your responsibility,” Caroline had said. “Her comfort in society is not something you owe her.”
Genevieve had heard her. She had not, in the end, been able to fully apply it. They were sisters. Whatever stood between them currently was the product of circumstance, and Genevieve had always been the sort of person who believed that most things could be managed with sufficient goodwill.
Clarissa saw her at precisely the right moment, and her expression opened into delight with a speed that Genevieve noted and chose to take at face value.
"Mrs. Harrington." Lydia materialized at Genevieve's elbow. "How lovely. I do not think we have had the chance to speak properly."
"No," Genevieve agreed pleasantly. "We have not."
"I am so glad to see you looking well," Lydia said. "After everything."
Genevieve looked at her steadily.
"After everything," she agreed.
A small, knowing pause. Lydia smoothed her glove.
"You have been so brave about the whole thing. Most women would have found it… Well. Very difficult."
"Most women find most things difficult when they choose to." Genevieve smiled. "I find it generally more useful to simply get on with things."
A flicker across Lydia's face, too quick to be certain of.
"I always say the same. Clarissa's return has been so unexpected. For everyone." A little tilt of the head. "I imagine especially for you and Mr. Harrington, given the circumstances of your marriage."
There it was. Genevieve held her smile with something like iron underneath it.
You have about thirty seconds before I say something you will not enjoy.
"The circumstances of my marriage," she said, "are that I married Mr. Harrington. I do not think of it as more complicated than that."
"Of course." Lydia's eyes were warm and interested and not at all kind. "Though it must be strange, must not it, to always wonder—"
"Lydia."
Both women turned.
Clarissa came directly to them, all smiles.
"Genevieve." Clarissa turned to her. The smile remained in place, exact and measured. "What a surprise."
"Is it?" Genevieve said.
A breath of silence. Lydia looked between them with bright, alert attention.
"I shall leave you both be," Lydia said, and removed herself with a speed that confirmed she intended to do nothing of the sort.
They were as alone as one could be in a crowded drawing room. Genevieve kept her posture easy, her teacup in her hand, her expression friendly.
"You look well," Clarissa said.
"Thank you. So do you."
"Do I?" For a moment, a brief, unguarded moment, something shifted in Clarissa's face, something that was almost honest. Then it was gone. A silence.
"Lydia tells me," Clarissa said, "that your marriage is… settling in well."