Page 23 of To Catch a Viscount

Anwen, sister of the Viscount St. James, gave Marcia a look and, with a smile, shook her head.

With hearing loss in one ear, Faith often misheard or failed to hear certain words when they were spoken.

“May I?” Anwen asked Marcia.

“Of course you may,” Faith called over with the confidence and assuredness only a best friend could. “Come in, come in.”

Marcia stepped aside and let her other friend enter before closing the door behind them.

Marcia and Faith had been friends since they’d been small girls, and it hadn’t been long before that same depth of friendship had extended to Anwen, a young lady whom they’d met during their Come Out.

“We have been looking for you,” Faith said softly, and Anwen took up a place at the other woman’s shoulder.

Ah, this.

Marcia tensed and kept her features even.

This was what she’d come to expect and despise.

It was even now the reason why she’d closeted herself away during her parents’ Help Marcia Save Face Ball, as she’d coined it. All so that days after being left standing at the altar, so they might show the world Marcia was unaffected by Charles’s defection. But shewasaffected.

And she also knew her absence would be remarked upon and would fuel only more whispers and gossip. Even with that, even knowing her every action would be scrutinized, she’d run away and hid herself.

From the looks.

The hesitancy.

The pity.

And when it came from her family and dearest friends… well, there was nothing worse.

“I’m fine,” she assured the pair of ladies, who were more silent now than she remembered them ever being.

But then, no one knew how to speak to her these days.

Her friends exchanged a look. “How could you be?” Anwen whispered and then promptly grunted when Faith tossed a less-than-discreet elbow into her side. “What was that for?” she asked with a glare.

“As if she needs a reminder, Anwen.” Faith returned her attention to Marcia. “How are you?”

“I told you, I’m fine.” Splendid. Elated. Overjoyed. What did the world expect her to be? They all knew. As such, why did they insist on asking her to put her feelings into words?

“I suspect that is a lie, but we have come to help,” Faith declared.

Help?

Marcia resisted the urge to groan. “I do not need—”

“Shh,” Anwen urged, touching a silencing finger against her lips. “Now, if you would…” She gestured with that same finger at the leather button sofa that hid Marcia’s champagne.

Marcia hesitated too long.

Faith took Marcia by the arm and steered her across the room. Gripping her by the shoulders, she guided her gently onto the floor. “Sit.”

She grunted and stared questioningly up at the two women assembled before her, their features serious.

Leaning down, Faith whispered something into Anwen’s ear, part of which Marcia made out as, “…the door.”

Hurrying across the room, Anwen turned the lock and then rushed back.

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