Nancy looked down at her hands, unsure what to say.
Hester pressed on, as if breaking a fever. “Are you worried about marrying the Duke?”
“I…no,” Nancy replied, then shrugged, searching for a word large enough to contain the man. “He is unyielding, to be sure, and impossible perhaps...”
“But,” Fiona prompted.
“But he is not entirely unkind,” Nancy finished, softer than she meant. “I think perhaps the world has been cruel enough to him, and now he is determined to return the favor.”
Lavinia said, “Most men are, if you give them half a chance.”
“That is why I prefer women’s company,” said Hester. “So much more direct. If a woman wishes you ill, she will tell you. Often in writing.”
Nancy snorted. “See? This is what I will miss after I am consigned to Scarfield’s mausoleum of a manor. Actual conversation.”
Fiona leaned in. “You will not lose us, Nancy. If anything, you will need us more than ever.”
Nancy blinked at her, then shrugged it off. “I suppose you are right.”
She looked around the shop, at the mirrored walls and riotous fabrics and the three women who had rescued her from herself more times than she could count. There was a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the tea or the almonds.
“My father still thinks I am deranged,” she confessed, voice low.
“He is a man,” said Hester. “He will adjust.”
“It is a shock,” Lavinia added, quiet but firm. “To all of us. You have never been one for conventions.”
Nancy regarded her. “And yet, here I am, drowning in them.”
Fiona smiled. “You can swim, darling. Better than anyone.”
They fell silent again, but it was not uncomfortable.
After a minute, Hester said, “Do you think he will be a good husband?”
“Scarfield?” Nancy considered the question. “I think he will be an efficient husband. As for good—” She shrugged. “What doesthat mean, anyway? He will not beat me. He will not bankrupt me. He will almost certainly never bore me. Perhaps that is enough.”
Fiona pressed, “But can you trust him?”
Nancy looked away. “I trust him to keep his word. That is something.”
Hester thumped the bench. “If he ever so much as raises his voice at you, I will march to Scarfield and challenge him to single combat.”
Nancy laughed, loud and unguarded. “You would lose. He is a champion fencer.”
Hester grinned. “I have never fought fair.”
They all laughed then, even Lavinia, whose smile was shy but genuine.
Fiona touched Nancy’s hand. “If ever you need us—truly need us—you know where to find us. No matter what.”
Nancy squeezed her hand, surprised by how much she meant it. “Thank you.”
“Oh, you three are going to make me cry,” Nancy said, making a show of dabbing at her eyes with a lace scrap. “And it’s not even the wedding day. Save your sentiment for the spectacle.”
“We will,” said Hester, “but I reserve the right to weep shamelessly at the reception.”
“Agreed,” said Fiona.
