Harrison's expression darkened."So the entire Park now believes my sister is...too vivid?"
"Oh, no.Only the ones with ears."
Esme's mouth twitched.
Mother sighed."This is precisely the sort of thing we must avoid."
"Whispers, speculation, the impression that Esme is...difficult," Harrison said.
Esme's fingers tightened around her teacup."Perhaps I am.Perhaps it is not a disease."
Her mother's gaze sharpened."Difficult daughters do not marry well."
"Perhaps," Esme said, her voice even, "they marry better than they otherwise would."
Silence fell.
It broke under Genny's bright tone."On that note, I have an invitation."
"From whom?"Woodmere asked, wary.
"Lady Langley.She and Lord Langley are hosting a musicale this evening.Intimate.A little music, a little supper."
Esme's heart skipped."Alexandra is hosting?"
"Which means," Genny went on, "most of the ton will assume it is dangerous and attend at once.She is insufferably popular, and she has promised me there will be at least one song that makes the Bishop go faintly purple."
Mother hesitated."We were not certain of our plans for tonight..."
"You are now.Langley House is expecting you, and Lord Langley will take it as a personal affront if you stay away, given that he has commissioned a special arrangement of something with far too many trumpets."
Harrison looked to his mother."It is Langley.It would be...noted if we declined."
Mother exhaled."Very well.We shall go.Esme, wear?—"
"The green.The new one.It will frighten half the bachelors and cheer the rest of us immensely," Genny cut in.
Woodmere shot her a look but did not object."You may wear the green if you promise to behave."
Esme folded her napkin with care.
"I shall," she said."Within reason."
Genny's eyes gleamed."Then we shall see what reason will bear."
James had begun to suspect that the universe was conspiring to make him earnest.
He stood in the Langley music room that evening, glass in hand, back to a marble column, watching Alexandra rearrange the seating chart.
"You cannot simply rearrange the cards," Magnus murmured, following her as she moved between chairs."My mother will have apoplexy."
"She is not here," Alexandra said."And if she were, she would applaud the efficiency.Do you want Watford seated beside the girl who collects ceramic lambs, or someone who might enjoy hearing about ledgers?"
Magnus sighed."Is this about Watford?"
"This is about Esme," Alexandra said, "and our James."
Within earshot, James nearly choked on his wine."Our James?"
