Alas, she found herself sans only one of those souls this night.

“And do not smile that obscene smile,” her mother said under her breath.

Oh, even that was entirely too much for her straitlaced, despairing-of-her-daughters-ever-marrying mama.

“My smile is not obscene,” Lettie muttered.

“Her smile is perfectly lovely,” Caroline insisted, and Lettie mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ for that show of support from the sister at her side through this misery.

“As if you have any grounds to speak about anything pertaining to ladylike behavior, Caroline,” their mother said in a hushed whisper.

Caroline’s gaze instantly fell to the floor, and Lettie felt a surge of rage on her elder sister’s behalf. Years earlier, Caroline had been courted by a fortune-hunter and rejected by that same man when Miles had made it clear the dastard wouldn’t see a farthing of her dowry. Their mother had never forgiven Caroline for sins that belonged to another.

Lettie took a furious step nearer the dowager marchioness. “How dare—?”

“Not here,” Caroline implored, stealing a frantic glance about.

The dowager marchioness switched her wrath back to Lettie. “And for all the saints in heaven, do not mutter and mumble, Lettie.” Her mother’s voice tilted up ever so slightly, as she otherwise remained with what Lettie was to take was not an obscene smile on her lips as she waved to a passing couple.

“Hmm,” Lettie tapped a finger against her chin contemplatively. “One must wonder if there is a patron saint of marriage.”

“Of course, there is,” their mother said, not missing a beat. “St. Valentine.”

“I referred to the Church of England,” Lettie pointed out.

The dowager gave a toss of her head. “Yes, well, desperate times and all that.”

“Do not encourage her,” Caroline mouthed.

Lettie touched a finger to her earlobe. “What?” she returned in an equally soundless query. She shook her head slightly and mouthed, “I can’t hear you.”

Her sister’s lips twitched.

“And perhaps if either of you bothered praying, then one of you would at last succeed in making a respectable match,” her mother said through an even, painful-looking smile as she postured and waved to Lord and Lady Montfort as they passed. After the couple had gone, Lettie and Caroline’s mother turned to them, angling her body in a way that ensured the world did not fully see her state with maternal disapproval, “Two unwed daughters. Two.” As if there were any doubt of the count, her mother discreetly lifted and waggled two fingers.

“Yes, but Rosalind is happily married,” Lettie pointed out, gesturing to her sister, who was being waltzed about the room by her proper and properly dull husband. She shuddered. If ever there was a reason to avoid the matrimonial state like the plague, Rosalind’s tedious existence was proof enough. “Surely that matters some?”