wide, smiling in an arch way that made Irene itch to slap her. "But we are boring poor Irene with our talk of frills and furbelows, aren't we, dear?" She turned gaily toward the other women, saying, "Irene has little interest in fashion, I fear. Try as I might, I can hardly ever convince her to let me buy her a thing to wear."
Maura shook her head, a picture of loving despair over Irene's odd ways, setting her soft dark curls bobbing.
"You are so generous, my dear Lady Wyngate," murmured Mrs. Littlebridge.
"I am well content with my clothes," Irene responded coolly.
Lady Claire, as always, quickly stepped into the conversation to avoid the possibility of conflict. "Miss Cantwell, you must tell us about the wedding at Redfields. I am sure we are all eager to hear about it."
Irene's mother had chosen the topic well. The marriage of the Viscount Leighton to Constance Woodley a week before had been the highlight of the social year, and an invitation to witness the wedding at Leighton's family estate had been highly sought after. All those who had managed to attend were assured of being welcomed almost everywhere for their description of the wedding.
"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Littlebridge agreed. An inveterate social climber, she loved nothing more than gossip and storing up tales that she could repeat to make herself appear more important than she was. "Was the bride radiant?"
"She is pretty in her own way," Miss Cantwell admitted. "But no family to speak of. One cannot help but feel that the viscount has married down."
"Of course." Mrs. Littlebridge nodded sagely. "A bit of a country mouse, I hear."
"Exactly." Miss Cantwell gave the other woman a thin smile. "But then, Leighton always has been a bit ... well, unconventional."
Irene, who felt sure that Miss Cantwell's opinion of the viscount's oddity sprang more from that very eligible bachelor's complete disinterest in her own person than from anything else, said, "I quite like Miss Woodley—or I should say now, Lady Leighton. I find her refreshingly unpretentious."
Maura let out a little brittle laugh. "You
would
find that admirable, of course, Irene. Not everyone admires a lack of refinement as you do, I fear."
"I believe Lady Leighton was a good friend of the viscount's sister, was she not?" Lady Claire said quickly.
"Oh, yes, Lady Haughston took her on as one of her projects," Mrs. Littlebridge affirmed. "She introduced the girl to her brother, of course."
"And before that, she completely made the girl over." Mrs. Cantwell spoke up. "Constance Woodley was an utter dowd before Lady Haughston came along and turned her into a swan."
"She has a knack for it," Lady Claire commented. "There was that Bainborough girl last Season, and before that, Miss Everhart. Made excellent marriages, both of them."
"Indeed." Mrs. Cantwell nodded. "Lady Haughston has a golden touch. Everyone knows that if she takes a girl up, that girl is destined to make a good marriage."
"Why, Irene," Maura said playfully. "Perhaps we should ask Lady Haughston to help you find a husband."
"Thank you, Maura, but I am not looking for one," Irene replied tartly, looking the other woman in the eyes.
"Not looking for a husband?" Mrs. Littlebridge said lightly, and gave a laugh. "Really, Lady Irene, what young girl is not looking for a husband?"
"I, for one," Irene replied flatly.
Mrs. Littlebridge's eyebrows lifted a little in disbelief.
"Such words are fine for pride's sake," Maura commented, casting a knowing smile toward their trio of callers. But you are among friends here, Irene. We all know that any woman's true aim in life is to marry. Otherwise, what is she to do? Live in another woman's house all her life?" She paused and turned her gaze to Irene. "Of course, Lord Wyngate and I would like nothing better than to have you as our companion for the rest of our lives. But I am thinking of you and your happiness. You really should talk to Lady Haughston about it. She is a friend of yours, is she
Maura shook her head, a picture of loving despair over Irene's odd ways, setting her soft dark curls bobbing.
"You are so generous, my dear Lady Wyngate," murmured Mrs. Littlebridge.
"I am well content with my clothes," Irene responded coolly.
Lady Claire, as always, quickly stepped into the conversation to avoid the possibility of conflict. "Miss Cantwell, you must tell us about the wedding at Redfields. I am sure we are all eager to hear about it."
Irene's mother had chosen the topic well. The marriage of the Viscount Leighton to Constance Woodley a week before had been the highlight of the social year, and an invitation to witness the wedding at Leighton's family estate had been highly sought after. All those who had managed to attend were assured of being welcomed almost everywhere for their description of the wedding.
"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Littlebridge agreed. An inveterate social climber, she loved nothing more than gossip and storing up tales that she could repeat to make herself appear more important than she was. "Was the bride radiant?"
"She is pretty in her own way," Miss Cantwell admitted. "But no family to speak of. One cannot help but feel that the viscount has married down."
"Of course." Mrs. Littlebridge nodded sagely. "A bit of a country mouse, I hear."
"Exactly." Miss Cantwell gave the other woman a thin smile. "But then, Leighton always has been a bit ... well, unconventional."
Irene, who felt sure that Miss Cantwell's opinion of the viscount's oddity sprang more from that very eligible bachelor's complete disinterest in her own person than from anything else, said, "I quite like Miss Woodley—or I should say now, Lady Leighton. I find her refreshingly unpretentious."
Maura let out a little brittle laugh. "You
would
find that admirable, of course, Irene. Not everyone admires a lack of refinement as you do, I fear."
"I believe Lady Leighton was a good friend of the viscount's sister, was she not?" Lady Claire said quickly.
"Oh, yes, Lady Haughston took her on as one of her projects," Mrs. Littlebridge affirmed. "She introduced the girl to her brother, of course."
"And before that, she completely made the girl over." Mrs. Cantwell spoke up. "Constance Woodley was an utter dowd before Lady Haughston came along and turned her into a swan."
"She has a knack for it," Lady Claire commented. "There was that Bainborough girl last Season, and before that, Miss Everhart. Made excellent marriages, both of them."
"Indeed." Mrs. Cantwell nodded. "Lady Haughston has a golden touch. Everyone knows that if she takes a girl up, that girl is destined to make a good marriage."
"Why, Irene," Maura said playfully. "Perhaps we should ask Lady Haughston to help you find a husband."
"Thank you, Maura, but I am not looking for one," Irene replied tartly, looking the other woman in the eyes.
"Not looking for a husband?" Mrs. Littlebridge said lightly, and gave a laugh. "Really, Lady Irene, what young girl is not looking for a husband?"
"I, for one," Irene replied flatly.
Mrs. Littlebridge's eyebrows lifted a little in disbelief.
"Such words are fine for pride's sake," Maura commented, casting a knowing smile toward their trio of callers. But you are among friends here, Irene. We all know that any woman's true aim in life is to marry. Otherwise, what is she to do? Live in another woman's house all her life?" She paused and turned her gaze to Irene. "Of course, Lord Wyngate and I would like nothing better than to have you as our companion for the rest of our lives. But I am thinking of you and your happiness. You really should talk to Lady Haughston about it. She is a friend of yours, is she
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