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“You do not like Lady Morpington?” ventured Fen.

“Her son Rodrey, Viscount Morpington is a profligate, though she insists on talking of him as though he were a child,” said Hester scathingly. “And those girls are not much better.” She lowered her voice. “There is talk that the younger will become the King’s next mistress.”

Fen gasped. “Oh.” Helen Cecil had indeed been very beautiful, but to her eye, the Queen was far more striking.

“Lady Vawdrey,” said a cool voice, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Fenella turned and found Lady Anne Sumner stood behind her. “Lady Sumner,” she greeted her with a curtsey. “I am glad to come across you here.”

The other woman looked cautiously surprised. “Indeed?”

“Yes, for I wanted very much to thank you for your most generous loan of your gown and cloak. I’m afraid I completely neglected to do so at the feast the other night. Indeed you must have thought it most remiss of me…”

Lady Sumner brushed these words aside with a wave of a white hand. “Not at all,” she demurred. “I’m aware you have been very busy.”

“My maid will pack them up to return them forthwith,” Fen hurried to assure her, but Lady Sumner pursed her lips.

“Nonsense, I hope you will accept the gown at least as a gift. I certainly could never wear it now without suffering by comparison.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t! It is very fine indeed and the alterations we made were not irreversible,” Fen protested.

“It would only languish in the bottom of a trunk,” Lady Sumner told her flatly. “No, I insist. You must accept it as a wedding present.”

Fen paused, unsure how to proceed. Lady Sumner was not exactly bursting with friendliness and yet she insisted on giving her a most costly gift. “You are most kind, Lady Sumner, I hardly know what to say…”

“Pray do not trouble yourself to speak another word of it,” said Lady Sumner with a barely-there smile. She curtseyed to Lady Schaeffer and then swept past them to join some ladies on the far side of the room.

Fen looked after her with a puzzled look on her face.

“Someone’s put her nose out of joint,” boomed a jolly voice making Fen jump. A woman with high coloring joined them. She wore a rusty-red gown which clashed unfortunately with her ruddy coloring and curly brown hair. Fen found herself unable to gauge her age.

“It is most curious indeed,” agreed Hester Schaeffer who had stood by silently during the exchange. “I wonder what has ruffled her feathers? She is not usually put so easily out of countenance.”

The newcomer puffed out her cheeks. “Probably the fact her ancient husband’s still breathing,” she guessed.

Fen’s jaw dropped. She directed a startled look at her friend.

“Allow me to introduce the two of you,” said Hester smoothly. “Fenella, Countess Vawdrey, please meet Lady Bess Hartleby.”

Lady Bess gave a rather masculine curtsey that strangely looked more like a bow. Fenella bobbed a curtsey in return.

“So you’re the resourceful countess?” asked Bess with great interest. “I must say, you don’t look particularly forceful.” She cast a critical look over Fenella. “But I daresay you probably used your feminine wiles on Vawdrey. I hear men are most susceptible to them.” Fen’s smile froze in place. “Not that I’d know one if I saw one,” rattled on Bess with a hearty laugh. “What d’ye know about playwrights hey? I’ve a fancy to sponsor one.”

“Er…absolutely nothing, I’m afraid,” admitted Fen, trying to recover herself. She had never met any woman quite like her before.

“Then you must get one too,” said Bess firmly. “It’s the only way to mask your ignorance.”

“W-ell, I don’t know,” started Fen doubtfully.

“But of course you must, Fenella,” Hester interrupted her. “You said yourself that Lord Vawdrey voiced no objection to the notion.”

“Oh but I’ve spent so much of his money already this week,” she objected with a guilty look.

“Have you?” asked Lady Bess with interest. “He can probably stand it. After all, he is fabulously wealthy, is he not?” When the other two made no immediate reply, Bess continued. “Stands to reason, he must be. Otherwise he could not afford to build his own palace.”

“Palace?” echoed Fen faintly. It was the first she’d heard of it.

“Yes,” murmured Hester, wrinkling her brow. “I did hear Andrew mention it a few times last year. He was rather envious of Vawdrey being able to draw up his own plans. But then he is so very clever, is he not?”