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earl and my good husband have been the dearest of friends for ages. I thought I knew all of Stone’s friends, but he never mentioned that anyone else would be joining our merry party this week.”
    Mama’s smiling, guileless green eyes met Lady Walgrave’s cold blue gaze without hesitation.
    “My daughter and I met the earl in Bath this spring. Mariah is the great good friend of Julia Allard, who, as I am sure you know, is the new Duchess of Kelbourne. My son also became acquainted with the earl in London, and—well—here we are.” She finished this vague explanation on a happy little laugh.
    Mariah noticed that Mrs. Spence-Jones and Lady Davinia had broken off their tête-à-tête to attend to Lady Walgrave and Mrs. Thorncroft.
    “The Duke and Duchess of Kelbourne?” Lady Walgrave drawled with the merest hint of disbelief and suspicion in her voice. “I attended their wedding some months ago. Stone stood as the duke’s supporter. I am surprised I did not see you or your daughter at the ceremony or the breakfast that followed.”
    Mrs. Thorncroft shrugged. “’Tis not a wonder to me, my lady. It was such a large affair, after all. My husband, our eldest son, and I attended. Mariah, alas, was unable to join us. I thought it would fair break her heart, for she was to be Julia’s chief attendant. However, Mariah caught a vicious cold at the last minute and had to cry off. Julia wanted to postpone the nuptials until Mariah recovered, but my daughter would not hear of it, especially with the guests practically on the doorstep. It was a lovely affair, though. Don’t you agree?”
    Lady Walgrave stared at Mama for a moment, seemingly nonplussed by her rambling speech.
    “Yes, lovely,” she finally said.
    Mariah admired how her mother blithely ignored the attention some of the other ladies directed toward her. Glancing around the room, Mariah noticed with relief that Lady Davinia and the widows now seemed involved in their own conversation.
    Lady Walgrave’s firm voice recalled Mariah’s attention.
    “Miss Thorncroft, your mother says you spent the Season in Bath this year. I would have thought that an attractive young lady like you would have gone to London for the Season—or perhaps London does not agree with you?”
    Mariah did not like the sly tone in Lady Walgrave’s voice. “No, my lady, I quite enjoy London and have spent some time there in previous Seasons.”
    “Indeed?” the lady replied. “I wonder that we never met at any balls or at Almack’s.”
    Mariah would rather have eaten glass than admit that she had never, in three Seasons, received her vouchers to Almack’s. Mama had never been able to wangle a strong enough acquaintance with any of the patronesses for there to have been hope of a coveted voucher to the near-sacred—to Mama—assembly rooms.
    “It is a curiosity. May I ask what part of the country you reside in, my lady?” Mariah really did not give a fig where Lady Walgrave hailed from; she just hoped to divert the subject.
    At that moment a plump little maid opened the door wide, allowing a footman carrying a huge tea tray to enter. The maid quickly darted in front of him and cleared a vase from the large low table in the middle of the room so that he could set the tray down.
    Lady Charlotte and Mrs. Ingram reached for the teapot at the same instant.
    Mariah noticed that the rest of the ladies ceased their conversations to watch the two women glare at each other over the teapot.
    After a tense moment, Mrs. Ingram finally released the bottom part of the handle. “Do pardon me, Lady Charlotte,” she said sweetly.
    “Not at all, Mrs. Ingram. May I pour you the first cup?”
    As much as Mariah found this spectacle amusing, she had no intention of continuing to be the target of Lady Walgrave’s pointed questions.
    Rising, Mariah said, “Please excuse me, Mama, ladies. I find I am rather fatigued and would seek my bed early this evening.”
    Mama looked a little disappointed, no