Edith’s shoulders shook as she tried to repress the onslaught of giggles. I couldn’t believe her.

“Enough, Edith! What’s gotten into you?”

“I am sorry, but I’ve never met anyone as tedious as him. It is true what they say, all he talks about is weather or horses!” She whispered far too loudly. I watched in terror as Read’s eyes widened with embarrassment. Blast it! He had heard her! Suddenly there was a deafening silence around the table. Lord Stanley’s mouth were set in a hard line as he most definitely wasn’t thrilled with the fact that Edith was insulting his friend.

“Edith! Apologize this instant,” I turned toward her with outrage. Concern about causing a scene was the last thing on my mind. Frivolous gossip was tolerated, but insults were downright unacceptable.

Her face was flushed, her forehead creased with guilt and regret. “I am so sorry, Your Grace! What I said was rude an inappropriate! I didn’t really mean it…”

The damage however was done.

“I-it’s f-fine, t-truly,” he gulped, desperately avoiding any eye contact. I knew he didn’t believe a word of her apology. He was no fool; he knew very well what was said about him behind his back. And with shame, I realized I had behaved no better than the rest of them.

“Ladies!” Lady Wyatt tapped her spoon against the champagne glass. The cumbersome tension was cut by her high-pitched voice and for once, I was grateful for her self-involved character.

“I invite you to join me in the parlor and leave gentlemen to enjoy their port and cigars.”

This time it was Lord Stanley who pulled out a chair for me, smiling politely. “I hope we can continue our conversation later.”

“Of course, My Lord,” I curtsied and hesitantly followed the ladies into the adjacent room.

We all gathered around the skillfully crafted pianoforte, no doubt imported straight from Vienna. Bonnie and Alison joined my side, both still slightly baffled by my previous outburst. Their wide open and curious eyes grazed my face every time I threw yet another anxious glance at the heavy wooden surface that separated the two rooms.

“I am so sorry,” Edith sniffled next to me. “I didn’t really mean it. I mean... I did, but I didn’t want for him to hear it!” She admitted desperately.

“It’s fine Edith,” Bonnie rolled her eyes. “It’s the truth after all, isn’t it?”

“Oh dearie,” Lady Wyatt patted miserable Edith on her shoulder. “You’ve done the right thing. It was about time someone gave him a piece of mind. Although tedious is a tad too gentle, don’t you think ladies?” The oh so respectable ladies giggled.

“Don’t you agree, Lady Ashlyn?” She turned to address my defiance. Her voice cooled when her eyes drilled into my own. It felt as if dozen icicles pricked down my spine. “The way you so fervently defended the gentleman… It’s quite... odd,” she cast me a mocking smile.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“He might be dull, but at least he is aware of his manners, unlike others…” I murmured under my breath.

She pursed her lips and raised her perfectly groomed brows. “Interesting,” she said while carefully studying me. When I thought I’d be burned under her scrutinizing stare, she finally turned back to Edith. “Darling I’ve heard you have a voice of an angel! Will you sing for us?”

“Of course, My lady,” she curtsied. I watched her sit behind the pianoforte. Her fingers slid effortlessly through the keys with her lovely voice bouncing off the richly decorated walls.

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My eyelids drooped when I listened to the endless trivial gossip and chatter around me. All they talked about was who was the most attractive bachelor, who had the most riches and how much they spent on a new evening gown. Even Edith who used to hate these things listened with utter fascination, drinking in every word that came out of Lady Wyatt’s gloating mouth.

After an agonizing hour I was about to stand up and join the rest of the gentlemen, no matter the consequences. I could cry in relief when somebody knocked on the door and stuck in their head to address Lady Wyatt.

“My Lady, can we join you?” Jared gave her his best heart-warming smile.

She fanned her overheated cheeks. “Lord Jared! But of course!” Her face turned scarlet when he sat in between her and Bonnie. From the conversation I was forced to endure for the past hour I found out that Jared, His Grace Andrew and Lord Travis were the most desirable gentlemen among the ladies. The yet unwed women were sick with jealousy as all the mentioned gentlemen appeared to be taken.

Other gentlemen followed suit, ready to mingle with ladies.

“Lady Ashlyn,” I heard someone address me. I pivoted on my heels to find myself face-to-face with Lord Stanley.

“My Lord! How was the port?”

“Excellent, thank you. Did you have fun with Lady Wyatt?” He smirked knowingly.

“A very pleasurable experience indeed.”

He chuckled under his breath. “She is quite…”

“Insufferable,” I quietly finished for him. Realizing I’ve just offended our hostess, I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Oh God. I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize for my rude remark.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he snapped his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line.

I gratefully smiled at his playful demeanor. “Thank you, My Lord. If she finds out what I think of her, I believe my season would be done for. She would happily ruin my reputation.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

I shook my head. “Indeed not, I still have to find a suitor I’m afraid.”

“May I be of any assistance, My Lady?” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes sparkling with boldness.

“I…” I noticed how Baxter Read slowly stepped into the room. He seemed awfully uncomfortable and uneasy, almost like he was about to enter a den full of starving wolves.

Out of everyone in here he was the wealthiest, yet he wore the simplest and plainest clothes. Ladies mentioned he lacked a sense for fashion. He was chastised for he never slicked back his hair and his face was - as Lady Wyatt stated - disgracefully covered with a light stubble. And well, with his clumsily tied bowtie he did in fact appear somewhat disheveled and scruffy.

“Is His Grace well?” I asked Lord Stanley.

He lifted his brows and studied me for a long second before turning his gaze to his tense looking friend. “He will be,” was all he offered me.

Read stopped a few feet away from us, engaging in a conversation with some older Lord I’ve never seen before. I heard they discussed weather, and I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling. The man sure did love a good debate about meteorological conditions.