And Gwen’s least favorite nemesis from when they had attended school together nearly a decade before.
Milly paused, taking in the sight of Gwen with narrowed eyes and her customary sneer.
“Well, well. Gwen, Gwen …”
Milly did not finish the moniker, but it was left hanging in the air, spelled out in giant letters—Gwen, Gwen, the Spotted Giraffe.
Gwen straightened and, as usual, found herself without a defense against the unwarranted disdain that her peeresses insisted on perpetuating all these years. She stared at the other woman, finding no retort.
“Milly …” she finally croaked out.
“Is it true, Gwen-Gwen? Are you to join our ranks as a viscountess?”
Gwen swallowed, unsure of what to say. She was usually so good with words, but when she encountered one of the old guard from school, she simply fell apart at the memory of her two years of torment.
The other girls had hated her, and they had not allowed a day to pass without playing cruel jokes or taunting her with the horrible sobriquet aimed at the fact that she had a growth spurt and towered above the other students. Her father had not realized what was happening, dealing with the repercussions of her mother’s death, until it had been too late. He had brought her home once he knew, but Gwen’s confidence had been shattered by the animosity she had experienced.
The only time she was happy and confident was with her books and learning. Any contact with society inevitably ledto encountering one of her old sorority, and she was ill-prepared to contend with Milly at the moment.
Octavia appeared out of nowhere to stand at her side, her attitude one of a mother hen. “That’s correct. Miss Smythe is betrothed to Lord Abbott.”
Milly did not acknowledge the servant, her eyes flickering over Gwen to find fault. The woman was high-society perfection. Slender, about six or seven inches shorter than Gwen, with a full bosom and perfect blonde curls. She had the refined nose and rosebud mouth. She had received several proposals in her first Season, and not held back about ensuring Gwen was aware, before making a match with a middle-aged viscount.
Milly arched her blonde eyebrows in a dismissive manner. “Lord Abbott is quite the catch, although I had not heard he was blind.”
The implication was clear, as Milly’s cold blue eyes raked over Gwen in disparagement. Gwen’s disquiet grew, barely noticing the growl that her companion emitted by her side.
Ouch!
Gwen threw an angry glance at Octavia, who was smiling beatifically, not at all the expression of a woman who had just kicked her in the ankle. The lady’s maid narrowed her eyes pointedly, tilting her head ever so slightly. Octavia was clearly of the belief that Gwen needed to be more aggressive.
Gwen cleared her throat to respond. “Lord Abbott and I are to wed.” Another growl from Octavia indicated that she expected Gwen to stand up for herself. “He is … quite taken with me.”
Milly burst out laughing, the mocking tone reminding Gwen of school. Of being too tall. Of not fitting in. Of missing her mother, and wishing she could return home. Of not wanting to burden her father with her problems when they all had their mourning to deal with.
“Is he?”
Octavia squared her shoulders, rearing to say something to the spiteful peeress. And Gwen suddenly surged out of her head to watch the interaction from above, perceiving the entire situation from a different angle than she was accustomed to. She realized she felt … emboldened.
Lord Abbott had said he knew who she was. He had tugged her into his arms for a passionate kiss and later compared her to Venus by Botticelli. He declared the soft words of great poets in the moonlight. A handsome young gentleman such as him had no reason to seek her out as he had—unless he had wanted to do so.
“He is.”
It was stated with firm conviction. She had given him several opportunities to walk away, and he had remained at her side, persuading her to marry him.
Octavia shot her a look, surprised but delighted by Gwen’s self-defense.
Milly blinked, clearly startled that Gwen had found her backbone. She forced a laugh. “Certainly, dear. An heir needs to ensure the continuation of the line.”
Ha! So I am nothing more than a broodmare?
But Lord Abbott had not been seeking a wife. No rumors of his courting had been spoken of. He himself had stated that he had had no thoughts of marriage, but, despite this, he found himself willing to wed her.
“Certainly, that is his duty,” affirmed Gwen, without any distress. What did Milly know of what had transpired between her and Lord Abbott?
The other woman narrowed her eyes, obviously intent on finding a chink in her armor. “Do not be alarmed when he grows bored and seeks the attention of other … lovelier … ladies of theton. I, myself, was hailed as a diamond of the first water.”
Milly smugly tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. The inference being that Gwen’s betrothed would find someone like her far more enticing than Gwen herself once they wed.
