{2022 WATTY SHORTLISTER} {18+ COMPLETED}
England, 1842
Lady Hutton, otherwise known as Penelope Chapman, cares not that her husband has a wandering eye. That is, until he wanders away completely--all the way to the continent with his mistress, wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There were only two reasons why Penelope was surviving this picnic on her back lawn. One being Lady Farrington, who effortlessly countered every single ridiculous thing that Lady Bucklebee had declared this afternoon. And the second being Colonel Ash—Beckett—who hovered beneath the shade of the giant oak tree nearby. Penelope enjoyed watching his face contort with bemusement as the ladies' comment grew more and more absurd.
He would be quite horrendous at poker.
Penelope did not know why he even bothered lingering about the picnic. Surely there was no danger lurking between the rose bushes or in a group of six ladies of the ton. Surely it was a waste of his time. And yet, there he stood, crossing his arms over his chest with a surly expression.
"Have you heard that Lady Francesca Yates is hoping for a match with Lord Hatherly?"
Lady Bucklebee had not stopped gossiping since they sat down with their lemonade, and Penelope was getting rather bored with it. But she leaned in with feigned interest anyway.
"I do think that she shall have to at least speak to the man, then," Penelope said, laughing. "I have only ever seen her avoiding company at Almack's."
"Not all ladies possess your exuberant nature, Lady Hutton," Lady Winchester cut in, saying the word exuberant as though it were a dreaded trait.
Penelope somehow refrained from making a face.
"Yes," Lady Bucklebee agreed eagerly, her tight curls bouncing in a way that made Penelope want to smack them out of annoyance. "You do not really have a right to speak on the matter, do you, Lady Hutton?"
She made a little cooing sound in the back of her throat that was thick with judgment. Penelope's stomach turned. She had an idea of where this was going.
"You might have gotten Lord Hutton to marry you, but it isn't as though you were able to keep him from straying."
There it was. Even though she had been expecting it, Penelope could not deny the damage she felt to her pride. She flashed a pinched smile, but it became increasingly forced as Lady Bucklebee continued.
"Men wish for quiet women like Lady Francesca. She shall be quite fine, I suspect."
Quiet women, indeed. Penelope sniffed and opened her mouth to retort, but Scarlett got there before her.
"I rather think that a man's departure from a marriage says much more about him than about the lady." She turned her hawkish gaze upon the other ladies who lowered their eyes in response.
Lady Farrington was a woman whom other women knew not to cross.
Not only was Scarlett the most beautiful specimen to grace the ton, but she was also in control of The London Times and friends with the queen. Lady Farrington had the power to make or break a woman with a single flick of her wrist. Even more so because she was also a notorious gossip columnist, Madame Mischief. Not that any of these women knew that.
