spoke on a whisper that was decidedly anything but a whisper. “She’s still in mourning.”
Yes. She was still in mourning. As she’d been for all these days, and as she’d remain until she took her last breath. Years earlier, she’d lost Geoffrey, and now, she’d lost one of her best friends.
In the end, it was Joanna who took control. “Ahem, might I help you, my lady?”
Lydia knew the other woman wished only to be helpful. But it had been a deal easier to lie there forgotten while they quarreled about her as if she weren’t present.
All eyes immediately swiveled Lydia’s way once more.
The irony wasn’t lost on Lydia. Here, she’d been lamenting the fact she’d largely been forgotten after her husband’s passing. She’d been wrong. As long as a lady had friendships with women such as the Viscountess Olivers and the Baroness DeWitt, one would never, ever be forgotten.
Edging around Society’s leading matrons, Joanna came forward, offering Lydia a hand.
Lydia made to take the servant’s assistance.
Thump, thump.
The cane hit the floor with two firm, decisive stomps, and her maid instantly drew her fingers back. “I assure you her ladyship is quite capable of getting herself up.” Althea turned her next words on Lydia. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”
Joanna, as loyal as the day was long, looked to Lydia with a desperate but silent plea for help. Alas, devoted as the woman was, Satan himself would have been terrified to gainsay the viscountess’s wishes.
“That will be all, Joanna,” Lydia assured the maid. “If you can see to refreshments for my guests.”
The servant was already mid-curtsy. “Yes, my lady.” And with that, she bolted from the room, leaving behind Lydia and her two oldest and most loyal friends.
The moment she’d gone, both women turned their attention back to Lydia.
“That one is problematic.”
Lydia frowned at the overly critical viscountess. “I like her a good deal. She is loyal and—”
Althea snorted. “Loyal friends do not go about abandoning those in need. Now, go pick yourself up.”
Muttering to herself, Lydia got herself up onto her feet, certainly slower than when she’d been a girl years earlier and the fall having been a good deal harder on her body than in those earlier days. “There, are you happy?” She dropped an overexaggerated curtsy and claimed the seat she’d vacated.
“Not seeing you all sprawled and aged-looking on the floor?” Althea asked, joining Lydia around the George III mahogany side table with Dorothy quick to follow suit. “Yes. Yes, I am. Why, I preferred you when you were… When you were…” She punctuated her points in the air with the bottom of her cane. “Frolicking.”
Frolicking. There was that word again.
“Sprinting about playing games of hide-and-seek at Almack’s when you made your Come Out.”
Not for the first time that day, another long-ago memory slipped in. This time of her debut. She’d been playing children’s games with Althea and Dorothy…when Geoffrey had found her. He’d been searching for her and—
Thump, thump. “Are you listening to me?” Althea demanded.
“Oh, dear,” Dorothy fretted, wringing her hands. “Perhaps she hit her head in the fall? Should we summon a doctor?”
“We should not.” Lydia and Althea spoke in unison.
“It was a minor fall, and I’m more than fine.”
Of course, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen. As a girl and young lady, she’d always been racing and jumping about. Climbing trees. Diving into lakes off of high branches. She’d set aside all those pleasures when she’d married. Her life with Lawrence had been measured and careful. And—
“Oh, dear. She is going to cry again,” Dorothy whispered.
Another one of those inelegant snorts emerged from Althea. “She hasn’t cried.”
Giving her head a toss, Lydia elevated her chin. “She is right—”
“At least not in front of us,” Althea interrupted. “Am I right?”
She was right. Lydia, however, had no intention of saying as much.
“Hmph.” Althea pounded her cane twice more. Thump, thump. “I thought so.”
Just then, a servant came rushing forward with a tray filled with pastries and tea.
“This isn’t a time for tea,” Althea said as Lydia dismissed the servant once more.
“We are English, Althea,” Dorothy murmured as she leaned forward to make the cups. “It is always time for tea.”
As Dorothy busied herself pouring in the way each lady took their tea and passing around the delicate cups, Althea spoke. “Now, we are here on a matter of business.”
“Oh, dear, and here I’d hoped it was just to be a visit from friends,” Lydia said, blowing lightly over the rim of her cup.
“I’d like it nothing