Eveline's spine straightened. "Indeed?"
"Oh yes, miss. They say the Duke of Everleigh..." Mary's words tumbled over each other in her excitement. "They say you spent the night there, alone with him, and that Lord Hatherleigh himself discovered you in a most compromising..."
"That will be all, Mary." Eveline's voice cut through the flow of words like ice through warm butter. "Thank you for the groceries."
The maid flushed, apparently realizing she'd overstepped. "Of course, miss. I didn't mean..."
"I know precisely what you meant." Eveline turned back to her desk, thoughher hands shook as she reached for another sheet of paper. "You may go."
Mary fled, leaving Harriet to unpack the basket in silence. Neither woman spoke for several minutes, the scratch of Eveline's quill pen the only sound in the room.
"Your hands are trembling," Harriet observed quietly.
"The fever's aftermath, nothing more."
"Evie!"
"If they mean to ruin me, let them." Eveline set down her pen with excessive care. "I will not give them the pleasure of seeing me cower. I have done nothing wrong..."
"You spent the night unchaperoned in a man's house."
"Because of the storm! Because I was injured!" Eveline's control cracked slightly, revealing the hurt beneath. "I catalogued his books, Harriet. I organized his chaos and challenged his assumptions and made him think about something beyond his own wounded pride. If that makes me a fallen woman in society's eyes, then society can be damned."
"That's my Evie," Harriet said softly, moving to squeeze her friend's shoulder. "Though perhaps we might find a less offensive way of speaking before you say such things in public."
Despite everything, Eveline found herself almost smiling. "Perhaps. Though I make no promises about my vocabulary if confronted directly."
"Heaven help us all."
***
The afternoon brought a break in the clouds and Harriet insisted that fresh air would do Eveline good. Against her better judgment, Eveline allowed herself to be arrayed into her best walking dress and was led forth into the unforgiving light of day.
"This is a mistake," Eveline muttered as they turned onto the main thoroughfare. "I should have waited until evening, when there would be fewer..."
She broke off as two fashionably dressed ladies approached from the opposite direction. Eveline recognized them vaguely from various social functions; Mrs. Ashford and her daughter, the perpetually unmarried Miss Ashford who compensated for her single state by being particularly vicious about other women's reputations.
For a moment, Eveline thought they might pass without incident. Then Mrs. Ashford's eyes lit with malicious delight, and she stopped directly in their path.
"Miss Whitcombe," she said, her voice carrying clearly in the afternoon air. "What a... surprise to see you about. We heard you were quite indisposed."
"As you can see, I have recovered," Eveline replied, lifting her chin despite the way her knees wanted to buckle.
"Indeed." Miss Ashford's fan fluttered with practiced elegance. "Though I suppose one must recover quickly from such... educational evenings. Tell me, wasthe Duke's library everything you hoped?"
"The Everleigh collection is magnificent," Eveline said steadily. "Eighteen thousand volumes spanning six centuries of human knowledge. I was honoured to work with such treasures."
"Work," Mrs. Ashford repeated, managing to imbue the word with enough skepticism to sink a ship. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
"Mother," Miss Ashford said with false shock, though her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "You mustn't jest with Miss Whitcombe. I'm sure she was far too busy with her... cataloguing... to engage in any other activities. Though one does wonder what sort of cataloguing requires an overnight stay."
"The storm..." Harriet began hotly, but Eveline placed a restraining hand on her arm.
"Ah yes, the storm," Mrs. Ashford said. "How convenient that nature itself conspired to trap you there. Though I believe Lord Hatherleigh mentioned the weather had cleared well before dawn. Such dedication to your work, Miss Whitcombe, remaining hours after it was safe to leave."
"If you'll excuse us," Eveline said, her voice admirably steady despite the burning in her cheeks. "We have appointments to keep."
"Of course," Miss Ashford simpered. "Do give our regards to your dear mother. She must be so... proud of your scholarly achievements."
