Gemma groaned in embarrassment. Little wonder she had received such vicious glares from the Duke's mother and the Henfords when she had finally dared show herself.

Gemma had always prided herself on her ladylike behavior, on acting and speaking the way the daughter of an earl should.

She knew well of her reputation. Knew what they all called her.

Lady Highbrow —the jibes were not always whispered behind her back.

But in a strange sort of way, it was a reputation she was proud of.

These walls that she went to great lengths to erect around herself, they let it be known to the ton that she was not just some mindless young lady desperate for a husband.

Regardless of her family's precarious financial situation, Gemma had no desire to settle for a life with the first gentleman who would have her.

In her five years out in society, there had not been a single man who had managed to capture her attention.

She doubted there ever would. Gemma would rather spend her life a spinster than marry a man she cared little for.

But she knew there was little chance of that happening. As her father's drinking and gambling had gotten worse over these past few years, her grandmother, the Dowager Marchioness of Hilt, had taken it upon herself to find her granddaughter the husband the family so desperately needed.

I am sure my efforts last night did little to help that cause…

“Was everybody shocked?” Gemma dared to ask her sister.

“Miss Henford and her family were rather offended,” Veronica admitted. “And the Duchess. But I must say, His Grace's grandmother, and our own, seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing.”

Gemma raised her eyebrows. “They did? I would have thought Grandmother would have been horrified?”

Veronica sipped her tea. “Well. The Dowager Duchess thought it all utterly hilarious. And it seemed to inspire Grandmother to think the same.”

Gemma allowed herself a wry smile. The two older ladies were the best of friends and shared not only a love for their short-legged terriers but also a similarly questionable sense of humor.

Old age, it seemed, had caused them both to become less rigid.

And to laugh at things, it seemed, that they would not have found the slightest bit amusing in decades past. Nonetheless, Gemma was still surprised by the Dowager Marchioness's reaction, given her fervent plans to find her granddaughter a husband.

In any case, the reaction of the rest of the party, Gemma knew all too well, was a different matter.

“And Father?” she managed.

Veronica's characteristic smile faded slightly. “In truth, I do not think he saw much of it. He disappeared off into the smoking room soon after dinner and I have not seen him since.”

Gemma nodded. She could hear the waver in her sister's voice, and it made something ache in her chest. As soon as breakfast was over, she would have to go and rouse her father. Ensure he at least showed his face today and made some meager attempt at being a grateful guest of the Henfords.

She took another mouthful of tea and sliced tentatively into the eggs that had been placed in front of her.

The last thing she felt like doing was eating, but she knew she was being watched.

Knew she had to try and regain some sense of normality if she was to come out of this with her reputation somewhat intact.

It seemed no one knew she and the Duke had ended up in bed together, and for that, she was eternally grateful. But it still did not explain how such a thing had come to be in the first place.

The Dowager Marchioness leaned past Veronica and gave Gemma a smile that looked almost conspiratorial. “How are you feeling this morning, my dear?”

Gemma's heart sank. Perhaps no one had seen the Duke enter her bedchamber, but it seemed everyone believed she had been in her cups last night. She forced a smile. “I am very well, Grandmother. Thank you.”

The Dowager Marchioness gave her a look that clearly said she knew Gemma was lying.

“It seemed you had quite a night. And so did His Grace.” She flapped a jeweled hand in the direction of the Dowager Duchess, who, Gemma realized with horror, was watching the conversation with a sly smile of her own.

“I have to admit, Her Grace and I did have quite a time watching our grandchildren behave in such a manner.” She chuckled.

“I did not think you had it in you, my dear.”

Gemma lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, Grandmother. I did not mean to embarrass you.”

The Dowager Marchioness let out a high-pitched laugh that caused Miss Henford's father to shoot her a barbed glare.

“Oh goodness. No need to apologize. The two of us had more fun than we have had in ages.” Her voice dropped, and she pinned Gemma with a look that felt far too knowing. “And I suspect you may have too.”

For a horrible, fleeting second, Gemma felt her stomach plunge. She knows…

Foolishness, of course. If her grandmother knew she had spent the night in bed with a man who was not her husband, she most certainly would not be full of laughter and playful smiles.

No, she would likely be letting her displeasure be known far and wide, and forcing the two of them to the altar with a pistol at their backs.

And yet as Gemma watched the two dowagers murmur and giggle between themselves, she could not help but wonder if she had come out of this sorry debacle as unscathed as she had first believed.