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“From arriving in London an unknown months ago, to the enviable fame she’s acquired within theton…and now having the honor of hosting the Season’s final ball!”
“I can tell you,” she leaned closer to whisper, “Mama is green with envy.”
“And your Mama being a Duchess!” the other woman gasped breathlessly, quite scandalized.
“And to have both Lady Elizabeth and Lady Lucille already engaged! To titled gentlemen besides!”
“Thatmakes Mama most envious of all,” the woman on Brigid’s right concurred.
She heaved a lamentable sigh.
“’Tis the bane of my existence to be stuck in the middle. With two elder sisters and one younger, prettier sister, I am nonexistent to even the average gentleman, never mind the cream of the crop.”
Miss Left tapped her chin in thought, narrowing her already small eyes into slim beads.
“There was a third daughter, wasn’t there? The one who thrust this family into fame?”
“She isn’t a daughter of the house,” Lady Right corrected.
“She’s a distant relation, I hear. Disappeared from Town right after Lady Watham’s Ball.”
“Right afterhemade his first and only resplendent appearance,” Miss Left recalled.
She widened her eyes this time and stared rather intently at the other woman, reminding Brigid of a mongoose under the hypnotic powers of a snake.
“Are the rumors true? That he’s one of the richest princes of a faraway isle?”
“I heard he’s a king, actually,” Lady Right sniffed haughtily. “Of one of those tiny but gorgeous kingdoms in the north.”
“Well, his pale coloring certainly lends credence to that theory,” Miss Left sighed, her expression taking on a dreamy look.
“All that platinum blond hair…”
“Don’t you think it’s more silver?”
“But a thousand times brighter,” Miss Left insisted.
“Like glittering moonlight.”
“He looked as if he walked straight out of a fairytale,” Lady Right gushed.
“I was there that night. I saw it all. He didn’t look real. For, no real man could possibly look like that…”
“That face,” Miss left picked up where her confidante left off.
“That physique.”
“The attire. The majesty.”
“Beyond perfection, I tell you. He isn’t a prince, he’s adeity…”
And on and on the two women chatted.
At the first available opportunity, Brigid murmured “excuse me,” and extricated herself from between the pair, moving inconspicuously to a chair three seats down.
Lady Right immediately shifted her generous bottom to the chair that Brigid had vacated and continued right on gossiping. Neither woman noticed her presence nor absence.
It was nice to be invisible. Brigid didn’t mind one whit.
