Page 108 of Oddity of the Ton
“Aren’t you goingto drink your tea, Eleanor?”
Eleanor glanced up. “I’m sorry?”
Her mother nodded toward the cup in Eleanor’s hand. “Your tea. Either drink it or put the cup down. I can see that cup toppling over, and you don’t want to spill tea on your gown again, do you?”
Eleanor placed her cup on the table.
“So you’renotgoing to drink it.”
“No, Mother.”
“Then why did you take it?”
Because you would have hounded me until I did.
Eleanor’s mother let out a sharp sigh and stirred her tea, rattling the spoon against the cup as it went around and around…
Around and around…
Clink-clink-clink…
Eleanor gritted her teeth. But though she longed to ask her mother to stop, or to excuse herself and return to her chamber, she was not in the mood to weather the inevitable outburst of indignation.
Not today, of all days.
She sighed and glanced out of the window. It was past ten. Montague would already have done the deed.
How long would the news take to spread?
At least she’d be spared her sister’s taunts. Juliette had disappeared earlier that morning to take a walk. She’d looked a little out of sorts during breakfast—paler than usual, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying—but when Eleanor inquired after her health, she’d been sharply told to mind her own business.
The stirring continued—clink-clink-clink—the rhythm growing in intensity until it resembled footsteps…
Then the door burst open, and Juliette rushed in. Face flushed, eyes bright, at least she seemed to have regained some of her color. But what had distressed her?
No—not distressed. Her expression was one of excitement—and triumph.
Juliette glanced about the room. Then her gaze settled on Eleanor. The corner of her mouth lifted into a smile, before she smoothed her expression—but she couldn’t disguise the satisfaction in her eyes.
She knows.
“What is it, Juliette?” their mother asked. “You look unwell.”
“I’m all right, Mother,” Juliette said. “But I fear for poor Eleanor.” She let out a deep sigh. “Oh, Eleanor, I’msosorry! It pains me to be the one to tell you—truly it does.”
Since when did someone saytruly it doesorI swear itother than to convince someone to believe their lies?
“What’s happened?” Mother asked.
“The Duke of Whitcombe was seen coming out of a woman’s house.”
“And? Perhaps he was visiting her husband—or he had some business there.”
“He most certainly hadbusiness,” Juliette continued. “It was Mrs. Delacroix’s house.”
“That harlot!” Mother scoffed.
“He was seen with her on his arm—everyone knows she was his mistress.” Juliette’s eyes widened, almost with relish. “There was another doxy on his other arm. Cerise, or so I was told.”
