columns on either side of the etched glass doors and flowers in urns on small tables. Not the best place to confront her former fiancé’s wife. Everyone in elite society who could afford it passed through there, but for the moment, at least, they were alone.
There was a minute of pure female assessment, and Lily was glad she’d worn her new muslin day gown embroidered with tiny lilac flowers, for it was both flattering and youthful. The other woman’s scrutiny was somewhat unnerving, so she returned it in kind.
Arthur’s wife was shorter by several inches, more curvaceous,her dark hair looped into an intricate coil. Up close she was not homely by any means, but not prepossessing either, with plain features and narrow eyes, though she was dressed in the height of fashion in green and ivory, a peacock feather in her stylish hat.
Why not? Her husband was a rich man.
Lily fully understood why Arthur had married the woman. His father-in-law wielded power in Parliament, whereas her father—though an earl—had never been very much interested in British politics and had, in fact, married an American. After his first wife’s untimely death, he’d done his duty and wed her mother, a proper English lady, but his unconventional first marriage was what people remembered about him.
All of that didn’t matter, Lily thought, doing her best to not hold herself stiffly. Though to save her life, she could not muster a conciliatory smile. “Lady Sebring.”
“Lady
Lillian
.” The distinction was made with chilly emphasis. “I’ve heard, of course, of your return to the circles of the
ton
, and it must be true, for here you are at London’s most prestigious dressmaker.”
Heard? Lily was sure Arthur’s wife had been given a step-by-step chronicle of her every move. The gossip mill could never resist a tidbit like a jilted fiancée resurfacing after four years of self-imposed exile, but she’d done it because Jonathan had insisted she no longer languish in the countryside, and also for Betsy and Carole. Toss in the Dowager Duchess of Eddington sponsoring her and tongues were wagging. Lily knew it.
“I’m due for a fitting.” She tried to not sound too curt, but as she went to step past, Penelope Kerr, Lady Sebring, moved in front of her.
“Stay away from him.” The words were hissed with emphasis.
In her life, she couldn’t quite remember ever being so startled. Lily froze and then summoned her composure. “From whom?”
“My husband.”
“It seems to me we parted ways years ago.”
“I know he came to visit you a few months ago.”
Since that was perfectly true, she had no idea what to say. Her former fiancé had called unexpectedly one evening and they had talked for the first time since their ill-fated elopement, but the nature of that conversation had been private and she wasn’t inclined to share it, nor did she really think she should be forced to defend herself.
She was the one who had been ruined.
Am I not the wronged party
?
“What’s this?”
Normally, Lily had to admit the dowager’s frosty voice made her grimace, but in this instance, it was welcome. She hadn’t realized they were alone no longer. Eugenia Francis had entered the foyer, small but regal, her tone uncompromising. Her height was diminutive, but her presence immense as always. “Oh, I see. Lady Sebring. Delightful to see you, but we have an appointment to keep. Please excuse us.”
As a dismissal it was well done, and grudgingly, Arthur’s wife stepped aside. Lily had to admit she was a bit shaken from the incident, for while she’d expected awkwardness, the open venom was an unfortunate surprise. She waited as a footman swept open the door for the duchess and then she followed, knowing to her chagrin her cheeks held a certain level of warmth.
“Think nothing of it,” the duchess murmured as they entered the shop. “She is below your regard.” There was a pronounced sniff. “It was common of her to confront you. It
There was a minute of pure female assessment, and Lily was glad she’d worn her new muslin day gown embroidered with tiny lilac flowers, for it was both flattering and youthful. The other woman’s scrutiny was somewhat unnerving, so she returned it in kind.
Arthur’s wife was shorter by several inches, more curvaceous,her dark hair looped into an intricate coil. Up close she was not homely by any means, but not prepossessing either, with plain features and narrow eyes, though she was dressed in the height of fashion in green and ivory, a peacock feather in her stylish hat.
Why not? Her husband was a rich man.
Lily fully understood why Arthur had married the woman. His father-in-law wielded power in Parliament, whereas her father—though an earl—had never been very much interested in British politics and had, in fact, married an American. After his first wife’s untimely death, he’d done his duty and wed her mother, a proper English lady, but his unconventional first marriage was what people remembered about him.
All of that didn’t matter, Lily thought, doing her best to not hold herself stiffly. Though to save her life, she could not muster a conciliatory smile. “Lady Sebring.”
“Lady
Lillian
.” The distinction was made with chilly emphasis. “I’ve heard, of course, of your return to the circles of the
ton
, and it must be true, for here you are at London’s most prestigious dressmaker.”
Heard? Lily was sure Arthur’s wife had been given a step-by-step chronicle of her every move. The gossip mill could never resist a tidbit like a jilted fiancée resurfacing after four years of self-imposed exile, but she’d done it because Jonathan had insisted she no longer languish in the countryside, and also for Betsy and Carole. Toss in the Dowager Duchess of Eddington sponsoring her and tongues were wagging. Lily knew it.
“I’m due for a fitting.” She tried to not sound too curt, but as she went to step past, Penelope Kerr, Lady Sebring, moved in front of her.
“Stay away from him.” The words were hissed with emphasis.
In her life, she couldn’t quite remember ever being so startled. Lily froze and then summoned her composure. “From whom?”
“My husband.”
“It seems to me we parted ways years ago.”
“I know he came to visit you a few months ago.”
Since that was perfectly true, she had no idea what to say. Her former fiancé had called unexpectedly one evening and they had talked for the first time since their ill-fated elopement, but the nature of that conversation had been private and she wasn’t inclined to share it, nor did she really think she should be forced to defend herself.
She was the one who had been ruined.
Am I not the wronged party
?
“What’s this?”
Normally, Lily had to admit the dowager’s frosty voice made her grimace, but in this instance, it was welcome. She hadn’t realized they were alone no longer. Eugenia Francis had entered the foyer, small but regal, her tone uncompromising. Her height was diminutive, but her presence immense as always. “Oh, I see. Lady Sebring. Delightful to see you, but we have an appointment to keep. Please excuse us.”
As a dismissal it was well done, and grudgingly, Arthur’s wife stepped aside. Lily had to admit she was a bit shaken from the incident, for while she’d expected awkwardness, the open venom was an unfortunate surprise. She waited as a footman swept open the door for the duchess and then she followed, knowing to her chagrin her cheeks held a certain level of warmth.
“Think nothing of it,” the duchess murmured as they entered the shop. “She is below your regard.” There was a pronounced sniff. “It was common of her to confront you. It
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