Page 95 of Temptations of a Wallflower
She rose, smoothing down her skirts, and readied herself.
This would be the first time she had received calls on her own, as a married woman, here in London. She’d always been in the company of her mother, who’d always acted as the perfect hostess. Sarah had been herwallflower daughter, watching, but never truly participating.
Perhaps once she might have been afraid to invite a woman as celebrated as Lady Marwood to tea. Now . . . she had much more experience. As Sarah made her way toward the drawing room, her hands didn’t tremble. Her breathing was steady and even.
It had been her idea to invite Lady Marwood. Despite all of Jeremy’s efforts to engage and amuse her since she’d given up writing, a part of her was going mad. Needing something, but not certain what. Perhaps a social call might help.
Jeremy had deliberately gone out, leaving her to receive Lady Marwood on her own.
“I think this is an excellent idea, seeing Lady Marwood.” He’d pressed a kiss to her cheek before heading out the door. “Besides,” he’d added with an attempt at lightness, “if you can solve Mrs. Edmond’s marital woes, an hour of charming conversation with Lady Marwood should be quite pleasant.”
“So youwereeavesdropping!” Sarah had exclaimed.
He’d reddened. “Only a little. My feet carried me away before I heard too much.”
Despite the attempts at banter and normalcy, this past week and a half had been awful, with her abandonment of writing. She’d found no pleasure in anything. No joy. Even her time with Jeremy had felt muted and hazy. She had thought that once she’d made a decision,anydecision, she would have felt better. But that hadn’t happened. She’d sunk even deeper into a formless gray mist.
Sarah stepped inside the room. But two women awaited her, not one.
There was Lady Marwood—a petite, dark-haired woman with large eyes and a penetrating gaze. Sarah had seen her briefly a handful of times and was thus able to recognize her. But the other woman . . . Sarah didn’t know.
“Do forgive me,” Lady Marwood said, “but I’ve invited my friend Eleanor . . . I mean, Lady Ashford . . . to join us. I hope it’s no trouble. Lady Sarah Cleland, may I present the Countess of Ashford.”
“A pleasure,” Sarah answered by rote, nodding at the taller blonde woman.
The countess had a lean, angular face and possessed a gaze as astute as Lady Marwood’s. But a ready smile played about her mouth as she dipped into a curtsy.
“You’re very accommodating to our rudeness,” Lady Ashford said with that wry smile.
“Nothing rude about it,” Sarah answered. “I’m glad of the extra company. Won’t you sit? I’ll ring for tea.”
She gestured toward the settee. As Sarah pulled the bell, her two visitors took their seats. Both of them were very elegantly dressed, though she noticed that Lady Ashford had neglected to wear gloves. Ink stained her fingers.
The smell of ink came flooding back, dark and wet. Sarah had always been careful to keep it from tinting her own fingers.
Countesses didn’t have dried ink all over their hands—did they?
After calling for tea, Sarah sat opposite her guests. The women looked at her with mild expectation. But no words seemed to come to Sarah.
Viscountesses seldom wielded a pen for anything other than writing invitations and guest lists. How had Lady Marwood managed it? Marriage to a nobleman and maintaining a career? A career doing the thing that Sarah loved and needed more than anything.
Clearing her throat, Sarah said, “I understand thatThe Last Scoundrelis doing very well at the Imperial. Sold-out audiences every night.”
Lady Marwood, rather than basking in the accolades, merely nodded. “It’s a bit of unexpected good luck, I think.”
Lady Ashford made a very unladylike noise. “Nothing lucky about it. You wrote a blessedly good piece of theater, and the crowds are showing up for it.”
“Thanks to a good review inThe Hawk’s Eye,” Lady Marwood pointed out.
“That wasn’t my doing,” her friend answered. “I always tell my reviewers to be impartial, no matter who’s performing what.”
A maid came in with the tea things and set them down on the table in front of Sarah.
But Sarah didn’t pour the drink and serve cakes just yet. “Just a moment.” She lifted a hand as she looked at Lady Ashford. “Are you affiliated in some way withThe Hawk’s Eye?” The paper was one of London’s most popular sources of news—and gossip. Sarah often read it to keep abreast of the scandalous goings-on about town.
“‘Affiliated?’” Lady Marwood chuckled. “Eleanor owns and edits it.”
Shocked, Sarah stared at the blonde woman. “The paper isyours?”
