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“Perhaps,” Evaline murmured. “Or perhaps this dinner will be a chance to mend what has been broken.”

Harriet forced a smile. “Optimism is a wearisome thing.”

Lady Wood set down her cup with a soft clink. “Then let us simply endure. You are not alone in this, Harriet.”

No, she was not.

But as she rose and took a final look at her reflection, Harriet could not shake the feeling that she was walking into a den of wolves. Or rather, a den of her past mistakes, with important peers to witness her humiliation. Each one of them had an axe to grind with her, and surely, the fledgling courtship between herself and Sebastian would not survive such revelations if they came to pass.

Or did he already know what she had done to members of his circle?

Her shoulders dropped in abashed despair. Then she felt Evaline’s hand upon her.

“I will be there to support you. You are not alone.”

Tears rose in her eyes, and Harriet raised a hand to cover that of her friend in grateful relief. Thank heavens Evaline was attending as her companion.

* * *

Sebastian stood in the grand foyer of Markham House, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as he listened to the measured tick of the longcase clock along the far wall. The scent of fresh pine lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of roasted meat drifting from the kitchens below.

Despite the festive garlands draped along the banister and the holly-adorned chandeliers, the atmosphere was anything but warm.

The butler, Clinton, had barely disguised his disapproval when announcing Lady Slight’s arrival, and Sebastian had been quick to meet her in the entrance hall, unwilling to leave her at the mercy of disapproving stares. He had not, however, expected the flicker of hesitation in her eyes as she stepped inside, or the way she briefly tightened her grip on his offered arm before schooling her features into polite serenity.

Harriet never hesitated.

The murmur of voices in the drawing room had hushed upon their entrance, resuming only in stilted bursts as the assembled guests took in the sight of her.

His cousin, Richard, and his wife, Sophia, were the first to recover. The earl inclined his head with his customary easy charm, while the countess stepped forward with a warm, if slightly cautious, smile. It was still startling to witness the earl apparently in a committed marriage. His cousin had been a charming but notorious rake, cutting a careless swath through the length and breadth of England, and Sebastian was unaccustomed to Richard taking the time to attend family dinners. He had always expected the earl would wed some mouse of a girl and leave her to rusticate in the country while he continued his dissolute pursuits much like Bertram Hargreaves had eventually done with Harriet’s mother.

“Lady Slight,” she said. “How lovely to see you.”

Harriet matched her smile, though Sebastian could feel the faint tension in her arm beneath his touch. “Lady Saunton, the pleasure is mine.”

Across the room, Brendan Ridley toyed with the stem of his wineglass, barely looking at Harriet. His wife, Lily, however, was not nearly so composed.

“Oh, what a surprise!” Lily’s voice was too bright, too forced, as she adjusted the lace of her sleeve with nervous fingers. “How unexpected to see you here, Lady Slight.”

“It is not unexpected,” the duke said flatly. “Lord Sebastian invited her.”

The words were cool, aloof. His brother had not moved from his place near the hearth, his stormy gaze settling on Harriet with quiet scrutiny. Beside him, the duchess, resplendent in deep burgundy, rested a gloved hand over the curve of her very rounded belly, and she smiled politely.

Sebastian’s jaw tensed. He had known Philip would be displeased, but there was something in his brother’s somber regard that set him on edge. Harriet, however, remained composed. If the duke’s coldness bothered her, she did not show it.

“The weather has turned bitter,” the earl said into the silence, as though determined to stir warmth back into the room. Sebastian appreciated Richard’s efforts. “Did you have a comfortable drive?”

“Yes,” Harriet said simply, offering no further elaboration.

The countess smiled politely before shifting to Lady Wood, who had entered just behind them. “And you, Lady Wood?”

Lady Wood, ever unflappable, inclined her head. “Quite comfortable, thank you. Markham House is as lovely as I remember.”

Philip said nothing but smiled tightly at the widow.

“Shall we go into dinner?” the duchess suggested after a beat, her voice soft.

The butler appeared in the doorway, bowing slightly. “Your Grace, dinner is served.”