Among the ton, tales were repeated at every look-in. Truth or fallacy, each story was carried from house to house, from square to square. A proposal whispered in a moonlit garden was known throughout the Polite World before the end of the next afternoon. An affaire d’amour was kept secret only from the capricornified spouse, for the intimate particulars were exchanged over tea and in the clubs. Although she had known how impossible it was to be close as wax among the élite, Vanessa clung to her hopes that Sir Wilbur would be too mortified to repeat the story of his dismissal from her aunt’s house. She hoped as well that Captain Hudson cared enough about Aunt Carolyn’s reputation as a hostess to restrain himself from telling the amusing anecdote of the finale to the card party. Nothing had been said last night about her call on Lord Mendoff, so she dared to have hope about this. Vanessa noticed no curious glances as she was driven along Bond Street. Beside her, Leale was a trifle quieter than usual, but Vanessa knew her abigail’s reticence came from their disagreement before the party instead of Sir Wilbur’s unexpectedly forceful departure.
