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And she should be grateful. This was the first in all the events she’d been dragged to that she’d not had her parents constantly hovering at her side.

Just then, they twirled past, and she forced a smile that strained her cheeks and waved at her mother and father, whose eyes were not on each other, as they should be, but on her.

Then, mercy of small mercies, they must have believed that false tilt of her lips, likely seeing that which they wished to see because it was easier to do so.

She wanted to leave.

A yearning that had to do with both a need to meet Andrew and so that she might escape the ruthless whispers that followed her everywhere.

Just then, Lady Ella and Miss Scarlett Wilson, a pair of young ladies who’d been presented to the queen the same night as Marcia, strolled past.

Lady Ella snapped open her fan. She concealed her face behind that delicate article, but raised her voice loud enough so that her companion and Marcia might hear her. “She’s a bastard, you know.”

Miss Wilson giggled. “Of courseI know.Everyoneknows. Her family and their friends might host all the balls they wish, but it will not changewhatshe is.” The pair passed closely, pausing only long enough to look her up and down before continuing on.

Her chest tightened, and Marcia curled her toes sharply into the soles of her slippers, wanting to flee. Wanting to run.

To escapeallthe interest, both from her family and their friends, who sought to rehabilitate a reputation that could not be rehabilitated, and the rest, who found glee in the scandal that surrounded her.

Not for the first time, she looked over her shoulder and peered down at the crowd spilling out onto the dance floor, squinting to make out the numbers on the clock.

She was going to be late.

Andrew would leave, and that would be the absolute end of his consent to help her.

Then she’d be left with nothing butthis. Gossips gossiping while her parents and friends attempted to protect her from something they had absolutely no control over.

As if sensing weak prey, another pair of busybodies converged upon her. Ladies Patrice Sarver and Persephone Filch. They were older, widowed sisters whose opinions could make or break a young lady. Unfortunately for Marcia, their magnanimity for her had ended the day her scandal had been born.

“No partner for you, eh, Miss Gray?” the white-haired, plumper sister posed, her words a statement more than anything.

Marcia dropped a curtsy and stifled the nasty response she wished to utter. “Lady Sarver. Lady Filch.”

Lady Persephone thumped her cane on the floor. “Or should we say Lady Hamilton?” she asked of her sister. “As I see it, the gel should be grateful to have a marquess for her father, even if he is a scoundrel.”

Oh, God.

Then she was saved.

Faith took up a place at Marcia’s shoulder and glared at her parents’ influential guests. “Oh, get on with you now. I don’t see either of you being asked to dance,” she said, and the two women flushed.

Lady Patrice found her voice first. “You’re a rude one, gel. It wasn’t bad enough you had the bad ear, you inherited a mouth.”

“All the better to point out just how very rude you are.”

While the pair sputtered, Faith slipped her arm through Marcia’s and guided her off.

“Oh, Faith, you shouldn’t have.” The sisters would only turn their teeth on Faith, and Marcia wouldn’t have her friend suffer because of her.

“Oh, I absolutely should have,” her friend muttered, loud enough to earn a curious look from the guests they passed. “I’ll not stand by and allow people to speak ill of you.” She lowered her voice. “Now, we have to get you out of here. I’ve told my parents, who’ve told your parents, we are retiring for the evening,” she murmured as she steered them from the room.

Marcia sent a prayer skyward. “You are an angel.”

A wry grin tipped Faith’s lips up. “Given that which I’m assisting you with, one might argue to the contrary.” Once the din of the ballroom had all but faded, Faith brought them to a stop in the empty hall.

Dropping to a knee, Marcia’s friend drew open a side table’s doors and withdrew a cloak. “Here,” she said, handing over the article they’d hidden earlier that night.

Marcia was fastening the deep-hooded cloak when she felt Faith’s stare. “What is it?”