They hurried forward and surrounded her, expressing sympathy and indignation on her behalf. “Now, now, that’s enough sympathy,” Lady Jersey said crisply. “You’ll bring Lady Charlton to tears, and we don’t want that. Time to get on with our plan.”
“Your plan?” Alice repeated, bemused.
“Yes, of course.” She gave Alice a curious look. “Didn’t you come with a plan?”
“Not really. Just to attend the ball and show everyone that I don’t care what my husband wrote about me.”
“Excellent spirit, but it will take more than that. Come along.” At her brisk gesture, some of the ladies split off in pairs and joined other groups, leaving Alice with Lady Jersey, Lady Peplowe and Princess Esterhazy.
James had drifted away as instructed, though he was keeping a protective eye on her from a distance. Lucy and Gerald seemed happily occupied, moving from group to group of young people, chatting and smiling.
Alice turned and saw Almeria and several of her cronies approaching, their expressions smug. Her mind went blank for a second. Then she braced herself.
Stepping away from her companions—she didn’t want them to be exposed to Almeria’s spite—Alice greeted them politely. “Almeria, Lady Beamish, Mrs. Scorrier, how delightful to see you. Are you enjoying this charming party? Lady Reynolds has done a beautiful job with the flowers, don’t you think?” The orchestra was tuning up. She seized on it. “Oh, I do believe the dancing is about to start.”
Almeria’s lips thinned. “I am surprised you had the audacity to show your face tonight, Alice. Are you not ashamed of yourself?”
Alice managed a brittle laugh and self-consciously smoothed down her skirts. “Oh dear, you have recognized my old ball dress. I did have it made over by my maid, but you have such an eagle eye for fashion, Almeria, do you not?” It wasn’t an old ball dress at all, but Almeria wouldn’t remember.
Almeria’s eyes became slits of irritation. “I’m not talking about your dress, as you very well know. I’m talking about that disgraceful book—” She broke off, and her eyes widened with malicious delight. “Or don’t you know about it yet?”
Alice inclined her head curiously. “What book are you talking about?”
Mrs. Scorrier smirked and pulled out a small red leather volume. “This one, of course. Letters to a Mistress.”
“Everyone is talking about it,” Almeria added. “I cannot believe you haven’t seen it. Oh, you must read it.” Her eyes were gleaming with relish.
Alice’s hands had stopped shaking. She was furious. She hadn’t expected Almeria to support her in any way, but this barely repressed glee was too much.
“May I?” She held out her hand. Mrs. Scorrier hesitated, glanced at Almeria, then with a faint shrug handed the book to Alice.
Alice glanced at it, flipped open the pages, raised her brows and said, “Good heavens.” Then she smiled at Mrs. Scorrier. “Thank you for the loan. I’ll read it later—a ball is no place for reading novels.” Ignoring Mrs. Scorrier’s dismayed exclamation, she popped it in her reticule.
“It’s not a novel,” Almeria said, her voice laced with spite. “It’s a book of letters, written by someone very close to you.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Alice said. She’d never been close to Thaddeus.
Almeria leaned forward and hissed angrily, “Those letters are about you Alice, and they’re utterly scandalous. You’re a disgrace to the family!”
Lady Jersey had come up behind Alice and overheard. “Rubbish!” she said coldly. “The only disgrace to his family is the writer of those obscene letters.” She snorted. “Call himself ‘a noble gentleman,’ does he? He’s obviously some member of the gutter press. No gentleman would write about his wife in such a manner. I’m surprised you fell for it, Almeria.”
“It is about her!” Almeria insisted. “I know it is.”
“How do you know?” Princess Esterhazy demanded, her dark eyes snapping. “Are you responsible, perhaps, for the publishing of this filthy material? Is this why you are so obviously happy about it?”
Almeria gasped and went white. Her two friends gave her sideways glances and moved away. “No, of course not. I knew nothing about it until someone—someone anonymous—sent it to my husband. And I’m not at all happy about it. It—it’s a dreadful scandal.”
Princess Esterhazy sniffed. “And yet you seem determined to spread this scandal around. And to blame your sister-in-law, who surely is an innocent in all this, no?” She shook her head, sending the plumes in her headdress waving. “Most peculiar.”
Lady Jersey nodded. “Yes, extraordinary bad form, to be trying to whip up a scandal about your own family—not to mention stupid, ill-natured and pathetic.” She paused to let her words sink in. “Come, Lady Charlton—no, not you, Almeria, I meant the young Lady Charlton.”
She linked her arm with Alice’s, then paused and glanced back. “I hope you don’t intend to spread that vicious, wholly mistaken gossip, Almeria. We would not look on it kindly if you did.” It was not quite the royal we, but coming from a patroness of Almack’s, it carried much the same weight.
* * *
* * *
Alice circled the room with Lady Jersey, Princess Esterhazy and Lady Peplowe, greeting people, stopping to chat—nothing of consequence, and with no mention of a little red book—but it was a clear demonstration of support.
The music started and young people filled the dance floor. The first dance was an energetic country dance, the second a cotillion.
As the sets for the second dance were forming, Lady Peplowe nudged Alice and glanced over her shoulder. Alice turned and her heart sank. Her brother-in-law, Thaddeus’s brother, was marching toward her, his expression grim. She had no doubt she was the reason for his attendance tonight. Edmund almost never attended balls or parties.
She swallowed and turned to face him. “Edmund.”
He bowed stiffly. “Dance with me, Alice?”
She tried to hide her surprise. The number of times she’d seen Edmund dance could be counted on one hand, but she gave him her hand and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.
“Owe you an apology, Alice, on behalf of my brother. His behavior toward you was unconscionable. Indefensible. Realize that now.”
Alice blinked. It was the last thing she would have expected from him. “Thank you, Edmund,” she said as they took their places in the set. “I appreciate it.”
He gave a brisk nod, then the dance began. They danced, Edmund stiff but correct. He never said another word, and at the end he escorted her off the dance floor, bowed to her and left the ball.