Both sisters turned to find Lord Chancellor standing before them, posture impeccable, expression poised in the manner of a man too accustomed to wielding words like carefully placed daggers.
His bow was polite. His gaze was not.
“Lord Chancellor. What a pleasure to greet you,” Blanche greeted politely, remembering the promise she had made to Heath about being an impeccable wife.
“And you,” Lord Chancellor replied courteously. “Marriage seems to suit you, Your Grace.” His tone carried the faintest note of detached observation, though the gleam in his eye spoke of something more calculated.
“Thank you very much, my lord. I have found marriage to be quite agreeable.” Blanche delivered the words with effortless grace, her tone measured, her expression impeccably poised.
Lord Chancellor studied her for a moment before his gaze shifted, settling upon Fanny with a scrutiny that carried more assessment than true courtesy.
“Ah, the youngest Waldron. Your charm has certainly become more noticeable over the years, Lady Fanny.”
The words were shaped as a compliment, yet woven with the unmistakable implication that a woman’s worth lay solely in how pleasing she was to the eyes of men.
Fanny, ever composed, responded with flawless, cool politeness. She offered the faintest curtsey, her tone smooth, effortless. “How kind of you, my Lord.”
“With luck, you may soon find yourself in a marriage as favorable as your sister’s.” Blanche inhaled, keeping her expression smooth despite the irritation curling at the edges of her composure.
“One can only hope, Lord Chancellor.” Fanny, to her credit, remained impeccably polite, though Blanche felt the slight shift in her sister’s posture.
Lord Chancellor tilted his head ever so slightly, studying Blanche with the air of someone who enjoyed testing boundaries.
“Tell me, Your Grace,” he drawled, “how ever did you manage to keep your husband away from his usual nocturnal haunts? A remarkable feat, truly.”
Blanche stiffened, a flicker of quiet indignation threading through her veins.
The words were an insult wrapped in veiled curiosity, spoken with a calculated ease that made it clear Lord Chancellor was probing for weakness.
But there was none to be found.
She thought briefly of her conversation with Heath the evening prior. He had been certain—unequivocal in his answer. He had not visited other women, and she believed him.
With perfect grace, she tilted her head, offering a flawless smile sharpened with precision. “My husband has better things to do than indulge in gossip and vice.”
Lord Chancellor regarded Blanche with quiet scrutiny, his gaze edged with something both assessing and defiant—an unspoken attempt to unearth a fracture in her certainty.
“You seem remarkably confident in that assertion,” he remarked in a measured tone, laced with faint challenge.
Blanche merely offered him a composed smile. “That is because I am.” She lifted her chin slightly, poised, unshaken. “You see, Lord Chancellor, though it may be difficult to fathom, not all men are devoted to vice.”
Lord Chancellor hummed lightly, tilting his head in mock consideration. “A bold statement, Your Grace. One, I hope you may continue to attribute to your husband in time. His Grace’s pleasures have, on occasion… raised certain questions.”
Blanche did not falter. “Perhaps,” she allowed, her voice smooth, deliberate. “But a happy marriage may very well be the end of such indulgences. It is an institution you yourself have spoken of with great reverence, Lord Chancellor. I had assumed you carried a little more faith in it.”
Lord Chancellor exhaled lightly, smirking just so. “Faith in the institution does not necessarily extend to faith in men.”
She felt it before she saw it—that quiet, piercing intensity that had settled upon her like an unspoken claim.
When she lifted her gaze, she found Heath watching her from across the ballroom, his blue eyes steady, unreadable, yet thrumming with something unmistakable. And somehow, absurdly, she found strength in him—in that unwavering stare that held her in place, grounding her even as it unsettled her.
Blanche regarded him for a moment before she replied. “Experience has taught me that only men of weak character crumble beneath the weight of challenge. Fortunately, if there is one thing the Duke and I share, it is our strength of character.”
There was finality in the words.
Lord Chancellor studied her for a beat longer than necessary, as if weighing a response. Still, Blanche had already turned away, guiding Fanny with her, ready to make her way toward Heath, who was watching her from across the ballroom.
Fanny exhaled lightly, murmuring under her breath, “What an odious man.”
