A lady of Resilience

Chapter 7: Whispers in Society

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London society had a way of turning every quiet moment into fodder for conversation. As Seraphina and Ashford grew closer, the world around them seemed to shift and notice in ways they hadn't anticipated. The brief but profound meetings in Kensington Gardens, where they had bared their souls to one another, were quickly becoming part of a dangerous narrative. Seraphina knew the risks, and yet, the connection she had formed with Ashford was undeniable. She could no longer retreat to the safety of indifference, nor could she abandon him now, not after what he had confessed.

But society was cruel, and the whispers had begun.

It started with a few passing remarks at Lady Witherspoon's ball. Seraphina had accompanied her aunt to the event, as expected of her, though her heart was elsewhere. She was standing near a window, absently watching the dancers twirl across the polished floor, when she overheard a conversation between two of the more notorious gossipmongers of the ton—Lady Julia Fenwick and Miss Margery Stokes.

"...And have you seen how close they've become? I daresay there is something untoward happening between them," Lady Julia murmured in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. She leaned in closer to Miss Stokes, her fan fluttering as though to hide her words from prying ears.

Miss Stokes gasped, her eyes wide with delight. "You cannot mean Lord Ashford and her? Surely not!"

Lady Julia's eyes glittered with mischief. "Oh, but I do. It's all anyone can talk about these days. The mysterious Lady Bellamy and the reclusive Lord Ashford—both of them damaged goods, if you ask me. I hear his past is far darker than anyone truly knows, and she... well, she's always been a bit of an outsider, hasn't she?"

Seraphina stiffened at the words, her fingers tightening around her glass of champagne. Outsider. The word echoed in her mind like a curse. She had always been aware of her precarious position in society—a woman of mixed heritage, straddling two worlds that rarely acknowledged her as their own. But hearing it spoken so casually, so cruelly, stung in a way she hadn't expected.

Miss Stokes tittered behind her gloved hand. "It's a wonder she's still invited to these events at all. I mean, with her brother's return from the war and all the... unpleasant rumors surrounding him, one would think the family might prefer to stay out of the spotlight."

Lady Julia smirked. "Ah, but scandal is like a flame to moths, isn't it? And Lord Ashford, well, his involvement with such a woman only makes the gossip all the more delicious. I wouldn't be surprised if he were to ruin her completely before the season is through."

The heat rose in Seraphina's chest, and she felt the sting of their words like a slap. She knew these women—she knew their cruelty, their boredom. They thrived on tearing others down because it gave them a sense of power, of control. But still, the insinuations about her and Ashford, the thinly veiled racism, were like tiny daggers.

Unable to listen any longer, Seraphina set down her glass and turned to leave, her steps quick and purposeful. She could feel the stares of others as she moved through the ballroom, their eyes following her, waiting for her reaction. But she refused to give them the satisfaction. She would not be their entertainment.

As she exited the grand ballroom and entered the cool night air, Seraphina took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within her. Her hands trembled slightly, and she pressed them against her skirts to still them. The night was quiet, the distant sounds of laughter and music muffled by the tall hedges that lined the garden.

She wasn't sure where she was going, only that she needed to escape, to think. The gossip had always been there, in one form or another, but this was different. It was sharper now, more personal. And the worst part was that there was some truth to their words—she had grown closer to Ashford, and it was only a matter of time before society turned its full gaze on them, dissecting every glance, every meeting, until there was nothing left but scandal.