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As if sensing the downward spiral of her mood, Lady Broadbent linked arms with her and steered them toward the open terrace doors.

“Before we begin, let us take a breath of fresh air. I know for a fact that Beaucastle employs an excellent gardener. I’m certain that the view will be quite—” She stopped at the balustrade and squinted at the birds waddling around the garden. “Are those...”

“Golden geese,” Thea concluded, horrified, though not entirely surprised. Ordering a servant to dye-dip live birds seemed

like something Nell would do. “Do you think it will wash off?”

“I should hope so. And I believe the birds are of the same opinion, for they are making their way toward the gilded fountain

as we speak.”

It was just like Nell not to think of anyone or anything other than her own vain desire to appear better than everyone else.

To Thea, it seemed unfair that horrible people often received exactly what they wanted.

“Impressive, is it not, Miss Hartley?” a feminine voice purred from just over her shoulder.

“Actually, I was thinking—”

The rest of Thea’s opinion stalled on her lips as she turned to find the newly minted marchioness, grinning like a cat who

had a mouse beneath her paw. But it wasn’t the expression that made her speechless.

While Nell had always bragged about dressing at the height of fashion, the layers upon layers of gold taffeta did nothing

for her stick-straight form. In fact, she resembled a chimney brush. To top it off, her yellow hair was twisted into Apollo

knots with open braids on either side.

So, a chimney brush with handles, then, Thea thought, holding back an enormous bubble of laughter. She had to press her lips

together to keep it from escaping.

“How good it is to see you doing so well, Lady Beaucastle,” the countess interjected.

“Lady Broadbent, I am honored that you would accept my humble invitation,” Nell said, a simpering grin on her equine countenance.

“And Althea, I’m so glad you are here for yet another Season.

Your third, is it not?” She tutted as if they were old friends.

“But never fear, there are a number of gentlemen in attendance this evening. I would be glad to introduce you. If I have the chance.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’m sure.”

Thea would never forgive herself if she met her future husband at Nell’s soiree.

“How delightfully naive we are when we are still unwed. Is that not so, my lady?” she asked on a tittering laugh, looking

to the dignified countess in commiseration.

The austere Lady Broadbent gave no reply.

That did not deter Nell one bit. “As a married woman and mistress of a great and affluent household, I understand what is required to catch a husband. It takes the art of subtlety.

Men respond to that, you know.” She made a show of adjusting her glove and trilling her fingers so the stacks of bejeweled

rings glinted in the sconce light. “Of course, you and your sisters, with your need to be the center of attention wherever

you go, likely wouldn’t understand. There are so many things I could teach you. And how is your family, by the by? Still performing

their little plays on the lawn?”

Thea’s amusement fled, but she bared her teeth in some cousin of a smile. “How strange that you should mention a play, for

I heard a rumor that you staged a scene of your own to secure Beaucastle. I believe it involved a house party and a turned

ankle, did it not? Apparently, you’d taken quite the tumble.”

Twin blotches of pink colored Nell’s cheeks. Then she laughed again, the sound high and strained as if she were being strangled

to death. If only.

“I have no idea to what you are referring,” she said.

“And besides, I’d heard that you were seen following a certain celebrated playwright like a lost puppy.

.. until you suddenly scampered back home in the middle of last Season.

Hmm. Why was that, I wonder? Oh, but after years of the Hartley name being embroiled in scandal, I’m certain no one gave it a second thought. ”

Thea felt herself pale, her throat thick.

Nell’s gaze turned malevolently bright, her handles twitching as she preened and fluffed her chimney brush bristles.

“I forget, Lady Beaucastle,” the countess intoned. “How many Seasons did you have? Six? Or was it seven? Not that it matters,

of course.” She executed a dismissive wave of her fan. “You found yourself a fine husband. And I can say that with authority

because the marquess actually courted me, back when I was a mere debutante. In fact, he and my late husband attended university

together... with your grandfather.”

Nell’s condescending expression fell.

With an audible swallow, her gaze flitted over the countess’s fine wrinkles and dove gray coiffure. “Isn’t that... interesting?”

“Yes, quite.” Her fan closed with a snap.

“Well, I must be off. After all, a hostess of such a great house has many duties. Including the fact that my cousin will be

making her debut this evening. Since I have such an influential position in society, I thought it only right to sponsor her.”

“Your cousin is fortunate, indeed. Miss Hartley and I look forward to making her acquaintance. Pray, which debutante is she?”

Somewhat mollified, Nell pulled her lips over her horse teeth into a moue. “Portia will be making a grand entrance just before

dinner. Now, if you will excuse me, I have many important guests to greet.”

As she flounced away, Lady Broadbent turned to Thea and said, “I do hope you write a grisly demise for her character in your

next play.”

“A beheading, do you think?”

“Much too quick.”

That response brought a grin to her lips and eased some of her tension. “You’re positively diabolical, my lady.”

“I’ve never liked that girl. A pity that she’s done so well for herself.”

“She married a man old enough to be her grandfather. She could not possibly lo—” Thea stopped.

“ Love him?” Lady Broadbent finished for her. Before Thea could utter a denial, the countess linked their arms and began to take

a tour of the room. “Regardless of what Lady Beaucastle may or may not feel for her husband, she delighted in reminding us

that this is your third Season. I doubt she will be the only one. And without needling a sore point, I’m sure neither you nor I thought we would

be in this predicament.”

Because both of them had been certain that Sir Kellum Archer would propose, Thea thought glumly, feeling the prick of that

needle all the same.

“Granted, considering your artistic sensibilities, I had accepted more invitations from hostesses with similar inclinations.

Primarily those with connections to the theatre,” the countess continued, her steps punctuated by the tip of her cane on the

tiles. “But traveling the same path as before will not yield the desired result. Therefore, I believe it’s time we explored

new avenues.”

Yet, part of her was also wary of taking a path that might ensure that her creative spark remained dim forever.

Thinking about the last year, about all the months she’d spent in Addlewick feeling estranged from her old life and uncertain

about the future, Thea liked the idea of something new. She wanted to leave the past far behind her and prove to Kellum that

she wasn’t the naive country bumpkin he thought she was.

After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

The countess held up an index finger and her voice lowered conspiratorially. “First, you must tell me this rumor you heard

about our peevish hostess.”

“There is no rumor.”

“Do you mean to say that you invented it? Out of thin air?”

“Well, not entirely. I remembered that, last summer, her mother stopped by to brag about a house party that she and Nell were

attending. I also observed that her own dress had been years out of fashion. From which I deduced that having a spoiled daughter

was likely taxing on more than just her nerves. A woman as proud as Elaine Hunnicutt wasn’t about to be saddled with a spinster

beneath her roof who drained the family coffers, exposing them all to ridicule. And since Nell doesn’t possess a single feminine

wile—hers are more of the feline, claws-out variety—it just made sense that mother and daughter would have conspired to use

every trick in the book to snare a husband, even by arranging a compromising position between Nell and Beaucastle.”

Lady Broadbent’s brows inched higher. “You are alarmingly clever.”

“I think I should be offended by your astonishment at my ability to fabricate stories. You have attended many of my plays

in Addlewick, after all.”

“Nonsense, my dear. I wasn’t speaking of your talent as a writer, but of your impressive knack for observation. And I had

no idea you possessed the lion’s share of the famed Hartley silver tongue.” She tsked in admonishment, then pursed her lips

thoughtfully. “Tonight I shall think on this development and prepare a plan of action. Something that will take the tarnish

off your third Season. Something that will create just enough of a stir to make you the most sought-after debutante in Lon—”

A sudden bang interrupted, the sound reverberating through the ballroom.

Their gazes swerved to the open doors where a butler stood beside a large bronze gong.

“Miss Portia Hunnicutt,” the man announced to the guests as he held the gong paddle at his side like a band leader.

Then, the strains of a string quartet began to drift down from the minstrel gallery. Two serving maids entered, standing on

either side of the doorway.

“For all the times Nell has spent disparaging my family for their dramatic flair, she is putting on quite the production,”

Thea said wryly.

“Indeed.”

Then a girl appeared. From the spots on her plump cheeks, she could have been no more than fifteen. Twin plaits of bright

red hair were twisted into knots on either side of her crown, the ends sticking straight up like rabbit ears. She wore a white