Page 37 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

“Yes, but still—”

“But nothing. I’ll not have you raking yourself over the coals on account of this.” Anne linked her arm through Stella’s. “The announcement was all very perfunctory, in any case. The earl rolled it in as a matter of course when he stood to thank various far-flung guests for having made the journey to Hampshire. ‘Thank you to the Bedlows for traveling from Cardiff, and to the Archers for coming all the way from Grasse. And many thanks to my natural grandson, Mr. Neale, for having joined us on the eve of his departure to Inverness.’ ”

“His natural grandson?”

“That’s how he phrased it. A perfect description, to my mind. Not at all tawdry.”

Stella wasn’t so sure. Calling someone a natural child was just a polite way of stating that the child was a bastard. No one at dinner would have mistaken the meaning. “How did everyone react?”

“Lord Brookdale and his wife were pinch faced but resigned. The earl was pale but determined. And Mama was perfectly marvelous. She raised her glass to Mr. Neale, the dear. As for the rest of the guests…they were fit to burst with excitement at the news. I suspect the earl will find himself short of ink and paper by tomorrow’s end, with all of them writing to their friends in London to spread the news. People love a good scandal.”

Stella’s lips compressed with disapproval. “How dreadful of them. Especially after enjoying the earl’s hospitality. You’d think they’d exhibit more loyalty.”

“Their letters will do naught but aid the situation,” Anne said. “This sort of scandal can only be blunted by sunlight, and the more of it, the better. Once everybody knows, it will fade into memory. Another scandal will soon come to take its place.”

Stella cast a concerned glance at Mr. Hartford. Snowflakes swirled about his tall frame, landing lightly on his dark wool overcoat, as he climbed up the path ahead of them. “How is he?”

“Cheerful in the face of adversity, as ever.”

“And how are you? You’re not upset or—”

“No, indeed. It would take more than a familial scandal to put me out of countenance.” Anne gave Stella’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “It’s I who should be asking after you, not the other way around. I hate leaving you on your own so much. It wasn’t at all part of the plan in inviting you here. You were meant to be enjoying yourself.”

“I was meant to be thwarting my brother’s matrimonial campaign for Miss Trent,” Stella said.

“In that, at least, you will have been successful.”

“A fleeting success, I fear. Daniel is bound to marry someone eventually, if not Miss Trent, then another young lady. Now he’s thirty, he says that he must, or else risk the displeasure of his parishioners.”

Anne’s sturdy boots crunched over the snow. “What have they to do with it?”

“Many of them believe that to be unmarried is to be unnatural. It’s why Daniel would rather I wed Squire Smalljoy than remain his spinster sister. The villagers don’t like spinsters. I daresay they suspect us of being up to no good.”

“Another reason you shouldn’t remain in Fostonbury.”

“Small-minded people aren’t limited to remote Derbyshire villages,” Stella pointed out. “They reside in every corner of the realm.”

“And they’re all of them frightened of women with power,” Anne stated unequivocally.

“By that measure, they’ve no need to be frightened of me at all. I haven’t any power to speak of.”

“Nonsense. You still have the power of choice.”

Stella cast her friend a half-smiling look. Anne was descended from a long line of formidable aristocrats. She’d never yet met a problem she couldn’t conquer through sheer, blue-blooded strength of will. It was unfathomable to her that anyone could find themselves a true victim of circumstances.

“If only I could choose without consequence,” Stella said. “And without regard to the limitations of my pocketbook.” She gazed out at the snow for a moment in frowning contemplation. “I tried to befriend her, you know.”

Anne drew Stella closer against the morning chill. “Who? Miss Trent?”

“When we met in Exeter. Her bearing seemed sweet enough on first acquaintance, and she’s of a similar age to us. But she didn’t want to be friends. All she wanted was my brother, and to be rid of me in the bargain. We’d not been alone together ten minutes before she was advising me on altering my behavior—and urging me to give up Locket.”

“No!”

Stella’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Miss Trent takes my riding as a personal affront.”

Anne was incredulous. “She objects to horses?”

“She objects to the expense.”