I’ve accepted an invitation from Mrs. Bainbridge. She’d like us to join her for tea and wedding flowers, yours as well as hers. Say you’ll come. We’ll sit beside her garden and pretend everything blooms as it should.
Your loving Aunt Margaret.
Leticia exhaled through her nose and set the note aside. She reached for her cup, then stopped. The newspaper next to it caught her eye.
The morning edition. Still folded. Still untouched.
She set it aside. Instead, she stood and crossed to the washbasin, her feet bare against the carpet. The air held a faint chill. Everything in the room was tidy, composed, unshaken. She was not. She poured water into the basin and dipped a cloth, pressing it against her face until the coolness chased back the heat blooming behind her eyes.
Dressing took longer than usual. Alice had laid out a soft blue walking dress with pearl buttons and a shawl the color of quiet seafoam. Leticia stared at it for a moment, then chose a different one, a deep gray silk with a higher neckline and no ornament at all. She brushed out her own hair, each stroke an act of control.
By the time she descended the stairs, her aunt was already waiting by the carriage in a tailored pelisse and her traveling gloves.
They did not speak as they rode. Leticia kept her hands folded in her lap, watching the gray morning drift past the window. Her body moved with the motion of the carriage. Her thoughts refused to follow.
Her aunt’s silence was the kind that asked no questions, offered no comfort, only presence. Leticia was grateful for it.
The Bainbridge residence was bright with blooms, the garden already spilling into its spring colors despite the lingering chill. A footman opened the door with a bow, and they were shown through to the morning room.
Mrs. Bainbridge stood at the table, surrounded by ribbon samples, lace swatches, and three teacups that had already begun to steam, and an entire bouquet of anemones sat in a vase, as if watching. She turned with a smile that was only slightly too bright.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d both abandonedme to hydrangeas and indecision.”
Leticia curtsied with more grace than she felt. “Thank you for including us.”
“Of course I did.” Mrs. Bainbridge waved them toward chairs with a gesture both elegant and conspiratorial. “You’re the talk of the morning, my dear. I suspect if you opened the paper, you’d find yourself described asluminous.”
A hundred eyes had seen her say yes. That made it true, even if she hadn’t meant it. Leticia’s fingers curled beneath the edge of the chair, out of sight, as if the truth had nothing to do with her at all.
Lady Eastbury raised a brow. “We prefer to leave the papers until after tea.”
“A wise choice,” Mrs. Bainbridge said lightly. “The news of the engagement is quite official. It seems everyone is preparing to congratulate you.”
Leticia did not correct her.
She stared at the tea in front of her, watching steam curl up and vanish into the air. The scent of orange blossom and honey should have been comforting. Instead, it was a mask, lovely, and entirely false.
She had said yes. Danced. Smiled. And now the world believed what she had only dared to imagine for a moment.
She wondered what Ash would say if he saw her now. Would he call her radiant again? Would he say her name?
Mrs. Bainbridge reached for a spoon to stir her tea, but did not look up. “Lord Ashcombe left rather late last night, with Lord Barrington, I believe. He looked, well, not like a man recently engaged.”
Leticia stilled.
“I daresay it had to do with that awful incident,” Mrs. Bainbridge went on. “Theft at a masquerade? It makes one wonder who else was masked last night, doesn’t it?”
Lady Eastbury said nothing, but Leticia could feel the glance sheoffered over the rim of her cup. She hadn’t forgotten the scream or the missing necklace. But her mind wasn’t ready for mystery, not yet.
Mrs. Bainbridge’s smile softened. “Of course, no one will ask too many questions. Not now. The papers won’t allow it.”
Leticia nodded slowly, unsure whether that was a relief or another layer of which she’d never be free.
She lifted her cup, lowered it again. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she said quietly.
Both women looked at her.
Mrs. Bainbridge was the first to respond. “Most things worth remembering begin that way.”
