I am in love with my husband,” said Lady Lucy, turning around from her escritoire and looking in amazement at her friend, Mrs. Ann Hartford. “I find the suggestion outrageous,” added Lucy, Marchioness of Standish, “coming as it does from a respectable matron like yourself!” Mrs. Hartford fanned herself lazily and looked at her friend with amusement. “You are upset and distressed and jealous, Lucy,” she said. “I would like to see that feckless husband of yours made to feel the same.” “Guy is not feckless,” snapped Lady Lucy, beginning to sharpen a quill pen with unnecessary vigor, “and… and… furthermore, I do not discuss my husband with anyone. Even you, Ann.” She turned back to the desk so that Mrs. Hartford should not see the tears in her eyes, and said in a light voice, “We are going to the Courtlands’ ball tonight. Will you be there?” Ann gave a wry smile, answered in the affirmative, and then began to talk lightly of the latest on-dits and the latest fashions while Lady Lucy regained control of her emotions and was able to turn and face her friend once more.
