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“I prefer terrible.”

“Then terrible it shall be,” Lady Wood said dryly. “Yet we are still attending.”

Harriet groaned, tightening her grip on the arms of the chair. “It has been years since I have dined at Markham House. Years, Evaline. And now I am to eat my supper, all smiles and good cheer, as if they have not all spent the better part of half a decade despising me?”

“Not all of them,” Evaline countered. “Sebastian does not despise you.”

No, he did not. But his brother, the Duke of Halmesbury, certainly did. And she did not know what to expect from the others. Lord and Lady Saunton were likely to be the peacemakers, but Brendan Ridley would be there. And Lily Ridley.

It was Lily’s curse that had set her quest for redemption in motion. Harriet let out a slow breath, the name alone making her chest constrict when she recalled the moment Lily had uttered those wretched words and shattered Harriet’s glib shell that had protected her from confronting the consequences of her selfish behavior.

“I should feign illness,” she mused aloud.

Belinda gave a short laugh. “And have Lord Sebastian fetch a physician? I daresay he would see through that ruse.”

Harriet caught Belinda’s smirk in the mirror. “You are enjoying this too much.”

“A little,” Belinda admitted, securing a pin before stepping back to admire her work. “There. Now you look like a woman who belongs at the Duke of Halmesbury’s dinner table.”

Harriet regarded herself. The intricate ivory velvet gown suited her complexion, and the sapphires at her throat were understated but elegant. A picture of composed grace.

A lie.

Belinda’s expression softened as she rested a hand on Harriet’s shoulder. “It is not just the duke who worries you.”

Harriet hesitated. It was not often that someone saw past her outward bravado, but Belinda was no fool.

“I hear you were closely linked with Lord Saunton’s brother,” Belinda prompted.

Harriet let out a short laugh. “Oh yes. We kept company … last year, briefly.”

Belinda’s fingers pressed on her shoulder. “Kept company?”

“For a matter of weeks,” Harriet admitted. “Until he met Miss Emma Davis of Somerset and married her. It was a fortunate escape, truly.”

Belinda arched a brow. “And Lord Brendan Ridley?”

Harriet’s stomach tightened. She looked down, fingers tracing the embroidery on her gown.

“That was … different.”

“Different how?”

Harriet swallowed, meeting Belinda’s gaze in the mirror. “Because I betrayed him.”

Belinda studied her intently, but Harriet had no desire to explain further. She turned her attention back to her gloves, slipping them on with deliberate calm. The silence stretched, until Evaline finally spoke from across the room.

“I can explain it, if you wish.”

Harriet gave a curt nod, a blush of shame crossing her skin as she smoothed her evening gloves. She and Belinda had become fast friends in the few days since Belinda had joined their household, the older woman being both elegant and pragmatic about the ways of high society.

“Lord Brendan Ridley was accused of patricide. At the time of the murder, he was here at Harriet’s, but she would not provide him with an alibi, so a young debutante provided one in her place.”

Belinda gasped. “Miss Lily Abbott! That makes much more sense than those bizarre rumors that an innocent young miss had an affair with him!”

Harriet winced. Rescuing Belinda from her father’s faithlessness was meant to help make up for that repugnant misstep. Which it had, but having dinner with both Brendan and Lily Ridley was not a hill she was ready to climb quite yet.

“It does not matter now,” Harriet said. “This dinner will be a disaster regardless of past sins. His Grace despises me. I … have given him cause.”