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“What were you supposed to do?” asked Sarah. “Starve?”
“That is rather what I thought.” He sounded surprised.
Harriet felt a surge of warmth for her friends as well as Mama. They were sensible, sympathetic people.
“Lady Wilton is a goose,” added Charlotte. “One of those ill-tempered ones who dashes at people, flapping and squawking.”
Sarah giggled.
“I was told she is one of the chief arbiters of polite society,” said Ferrington.
“By whom?” asked Charlotte.
“Well…”
“Lady Wilton herself?”
“Ah. Yes.”
“There you are then.”
Harriet could visualize the gesture Charlotte always made when she’d scored a point in an argument.
“You are not what I expected,” said Ferrington.
“How so?” asked Sarah.
“I was told society people would disapprove of…everything about me.”
“By?” asked Charlotte acidly.
“Ah. Lady Wilton.”
“I must say that woman has far too many opinions,” declared Harriet’s mother. “Nearly all of them wrongheaded.”
The laughter that followed both pleased and concerned Harriet. It was pleasant to hear him finding common ground with her friends and family. Except… What was that going to accomplish? Beyond making things harder when she broke the engagement.
“The high sticklers in society don’t think much of me,” said Charlotte. “And the feeling is mutual.”
“You don’t care?” Ferrington asked.
“About them? No.”
“You have to pick and choose among the people you meet,” said Sarah.
“But can you? I was told…”
He stopped. Harriet could imagine Charlotte and Sarah cocking their heads at him. She had exchanged knowing looks with her friends so many times that she could see them in her mind’s eye.
“Right,” said Ferrington. “Lady Wilton.”
“Where in the world can Harriet be?” wondered her mother.
She could be at a loss, Harriet thought. She had to go back. A muted rattle made her turn, and there was one of the housemaids a few feet away, holding a tray. She looked puzzled. Harriet nodded as if lurking in the corridor when she had visitors was not at all strange, beckoned, and stepped back into the parlor. “Here we are,” she said.
The maid came in behind her, providing a diversion, placed the tray on a low table, and departed.
“Macaroons?” said Harriet.
