Petra’s vaguely wandering gaze suddenly focused sharply as a couple entered the ballroom. Clothilde Delmont and her escort, a man Petra didn’t recognize, were late arrivals and paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Clothilde was a figure of elegant perfection, her thick dark hair carefully dressed in an elaborate pompadour, the scarlet silk folds of her gown sweeping into a train at the back, revealing at the front dainty ankles in dazzling silver satin high-heeled shoes, which together with the towering coiffure made her tall enough to dwarf Petra.

Her eye fell on Petra and with a word to her escort she moved toward the window, her fan dangling from her wrist, the silver plumes in her hair waving with every gliding step.

“Miss Rutherford, my congratulations,” she said. “However did you manage it?” She sat down in the chair beside Petra, her eyes bright with malice taking in the other woman’s appearance.

“Manage what, Lady Delmont?” Petra asked, smiling blandly.

“Oh, I think you know,” Clothilde said, looking over the dancing couples on the dance floor. “I trust you won’t regret it, my dear. Guy is not husband material. I doubt you’ll keep him at your apron strings for many months.” She flicked open her fan, turning to regard Petra with a derisive smile. “Do you have some hold over him, I wonder? As he said himself, you have so little to recommend you.”

For a moment Petra thought she would lose her carefully constructed composure. Surely Guy had never discussed her with this woman? He would never be so disloyal. No, Clothilde was trying to stir up trouble and she would not allow her to think for one minute that she’d succeeded.

“Oh, I think you’ll find I have hidden depths, Lady Delmont,” she said, her eyes glittering with anger. She rose from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me.” She walked away just as Charlie pushed through a group of dancers with two glasses of champagne. “Thank you,” she said, taking one from him without ceremony and drinking it down and handing him back the empty glass. “Oh, that’s better. That dreadful woman makes me so angry.”

“Who? Lady Delmont?” Charlie took the glass, turning to follow Petra’s gaze. “I don’t know her at all. She moves in very different circles.”

“Yes, Guy’s circles,” Petra declared, then immediately regretted the indiscretion. She didn’t want anyone to think she was jealous of the vicomtesse.

“Yes, I had heard that.” Charlie looked at her in some consternation. “What did she say to upset you?”