She sighed.
“Girls!” Mama shrilled again. “Your father is becoming impatient.”
Guinevere scoffed. That was an untruth if ever there was one. Papa tolerated balls for Mama’s sake. Guinevere slipped on her shoes, rose to her feet, and the three of them stood there for a moment, Guinevere’s secrets unspoken and swirling between them. She had once been completely in love with Asher. Perhaps it had been a young, foolish love, and surely it had been one-sided love, but it had been love for her part.
Vivian surprised Guinevere by taking her hand and squeezing it. “If I’m near Carrington tonight, I’m going to elbow him sharply in the ribs.”
Guinevere grinned at her sister. “He’s not worth it, dearest.”
It wasn’t lost on her that she’d not always thought that. Why, she had ridiculously believed for a full sennight after his betrothal was announced that it had somehow all been a horrible mistake. She had kept telling herself he would not do that to her, and Elizabeth would not do that to her. They both had done exactlythatto her.
“Were you terribly shaken to see him, Guinnie?” Frederica asked as they moved toward the door.
“Not terribly,” Guinevere said, willing it to be so.
“What will you do if you encounter him at tonight’s ball?” Vivian asked.
They departed Guinevere’s bedchamber, Guinevere and Vivian heading toward the stairs and Frederica giving them a wave as she moved toward her bedchamber.
“I’ll not even give him a second glance,” Guinevere said more to herself than Vivian. “Why would I? He is not important to me, and I must turn my sights tonight to intervening in Lord Charolton’s plot to compromise Lady Constantine Colgate for her dowry. Not to mention, I need to find a man I can tolerate as a husband. I’ll be far too busy to notice the Duke of Carrington, even if he stood on his head in front of me.”
Chapter Four
“Who is our target tonight?” Lilias asked as Guinevere peeked through the cluster of potted plants they strategically stood behind.
“Do you not remember?” Guinevere growled, then bit her lip at her irritability.
“My, you’re in a particularly sour mood. Could it be your encounter with your oldinamorato?”
“You know perfectly well that Carrington was never my lover.” Guinevere tugged at her dress, which did nothing to aid her plight. She could not take a proper breath!
“I know, but if your life was more like one of the Gothic novels I read, he would have been,” Lilias said with a dreamy note to her voice.
“Lilias Honeyfield, if people knew who you truly were, they would be shocked.” Guinevere settled her gaze on her friend, who once again was wearing hideous spectacles she did not even need. “You look like a most severe governess,” she said with a shake of her head.
She swept a look over Lilias. Her lovely blond hair was pulled back in a bun so tight that it tugged her naturally round eyes into more of a catlike shape. And her gown! It was the worst one yet.
“I cannot believe your mother let you come to tonight’s ball in that gown,” Guinevere said, taking in the brown, high-necked, and unforgiving silk. “That color does not complement you, my dear.”
“I know,” Lilias replied with a grin. “And Mother is in Bath taking a restorative cure. She’s had another dark mood come over her.”
“Another one?” Guinevere asked, pity for her friend rising in her. Ever since Lilias’s father had passed away seven years ago, Lilia’s mother had changed greatly from the woman who had been so full of life. She was beset with megrims where the slightest noise set her to raving, and she would have weeks where she would not get out of bed. Sometimes she would be overly attentive to Lilias, trying almost desperately to get Lilias wed, and other times, she would ignore her completely as if she quite forgot she was even there.
“Yes.” Lilias looked sad for a moment. “She says my inability to obtain a marriage offer has made her deathly ill.”
“You know I’m not a champion of marrying without love, but you cannot possibly fall in love again if you never forget Greybourne and turn your sights elsewhere.”
“Greybourne has nothing to do with why I have not wed.” Lilias waved a dismissive hand. “I forgot him ages ago.”
Guinevere knew better than to waste her breath arguing with Lilias. Her friend had loved Greybourne likely since the day she’d met him, and Guinevere feared that would remain her friend’s unfortunate state until her dying day, despite the fact that Greybourne had made it clear, in a letter no less, that he wanted her to forget him.
“Why did you miss the last SLAR meeting?” Guinevere asked, using the abbreviation they all did to refer to their secret society of ladies.
“Mother forced me to allow Lord Snyde to call.”
Guinevere bit her lip on encouraging Lilias to accept her neighbor’s obvious desire to court her. If she even dared to try to persuade Lilias, her friend would remind her of her own need to move on with her life, which she needed no reminder of nor was she in the mood to hear. Notes of the harp began to fill the ballroom, and couples formed on the dance floor. She suddenly wished Asher could see her dance now. She had been a dreadful dancer years before, all left feet and—Drat! She should not care if the man knew she was now quite an accomplished dancer, even if showing off her skill would make her feel good. It was silly.
“So, who is our target?” Lilias asked again.
