Chapter Thirty Two

In the quiet, sun-drenched drawing room of the Ellington manor, Baroness Augusta sat serenely in her favorite armchair, a delicate porcelain teacup held in her hand and a small smile on her face. The chaos from the street outside had been swept away by the servants, and a semblance of aristocratic order had been restored. Sitting across from her, looking slightly disheveled but immensely pleased with herself, was Lady Pembroke.

"You are really a great actress, Lady Pembroke," Augusta said, her voice a smooth, approving purr. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a smile that did not hold any real warmth. "I do hope you weren't actually hurt in the fall?"