“I’m not.” Fen pressed her lips together. A single tear overspilled her eye and slid down her cheek; she batted it away. “But the fact is when someone is so rude and hateful— I have never done anything to her! I’ve always tried to be polite even though nobody would receive her if she wasn’t an earl’s daughter. Why do they both hate me so much?”

It was a cry of real pain, and Pat grasped her hand without even thinking. “Oh, Fen, don’t let them worry you. He hates everyone. Like Iago, you know, who hates Othello because He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly. That’s Haworth all over, if you ask me. And as for Lady Anna—”

“Don’t tell me she’s jealous. I hate it when people say that about bullies, especially when it’s clearly not true.”

“I was going to say she’s probably very unhappy and taking it out on other people. I have no idea if she’s jealous of you, but if she isn’t, she ought to be. You’re ten times prettier, a hundred times nicer, and not married to that dreadful man.”

“I am not at all prettier,” Fen said, perking up. “She has a wonderful figure.”

“That’s in the eye of the beholder. And if the beholder likes good eyes and a lovely smile and the spirit of a delightful, happy person infusing them, not to mention a quite outstanding bosom—”

Pat stopped herself there, suddenly aware that the strong spirits on top of two glasses of wine had led her into indiscretion. Hard on the heels of that came the realisation that Fen had almost certainly thought of her words as a purely aesthetic compliment, the sort of thing ladies always said to one another, and wouldn’t have seen anything in it if Pat hadn’t cut herself off like that...

Fen was looking at her, eyes wide, lips quivering on the verge of a smile. Pat very much did not want her to laugh.

“Outstanding?” Fen shifted round, facing Pat, and moved her hands to cup the sides of her spectacular décolletage, giving it all a gentle, slightly jiggly boost upwards. “Would you say so?”

Pat couldn’t look away. Nobody could, from that expanse of creamy skin. “I... well, it’s certainly standing out. In that dress, I mean. Yes. Not—it’s not just the dress,” she added hastily. “It’s definitely the bosom.”

She tore her gaze away and up. Fen’s eyes were brimming with mischief and glee and something else, which looked almost like excitement, and Pat thought, I could kiss her. I could lean forward and—

She’s engaged to Jimmy. Your friend.

He doesn’t deserve her.

That’s not up to you.

No, it’s up to her.