“Lady Deverill whispered to her sister-in-law. Lady Caroline Griffin shook her head. “I don’t even know who half of them are.”Sarala stood a few feet behind them, a smile pasted on her face and hands held together behind her back so no one would see them shaking. Apparently the “friends” luncheon to which Eleanor had invited her had grown to proportions unimagined. With a breath she took a step forward. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.Both women faced her. “No, no, my dear,” the marchion...ess said after a moment. “The unexpected is always expected in this household.”Sarala supposed that Eleanor meant the Deverill household, since that was where the mass of females stood chatting and snacking on biscuits while footmen scurried about to place more tables and chairs in the back garden. The two hostesses might claim to have no idea why half the young ladies of London had arrived uninvited and unannounced, but as Sarala watched them troop by in groups of two or three, she had a fair grasp on what was happening.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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