The Lady Who Left

IV. On the Third Day

"Congratulations on your engagement, Cressida."

Red-haired Belinda was smiling at her, but Cressida knew that behind that perfect look were thoughts of disdain.

The lady was only one of the many women who had a special distaste toward Cressida, but to be fair, the woman was amongst the few who did not bother to hide it. She'd had enough time spent behind curtains, corridors and pillars to overhear other ladies speak of her with malice, but were voluntary mutes when confronted. Belinda was different. Like Cressida, she was not shy to speak her mind.

Their relationship was beyond that of abhorrence, for it started years ago.

"Thank you," Cressida answered, returning her gaze to the middle of the ballroom, ignoring Belinda altogether. She had no time for spats because she had decided to be very graceful from now on. One should not draw more attention to themselves if one was to commit a crime.

But it was proving to be difficult, of course, especially in this particular setting. Her mother had to drag her to the ball because she had to make appearances now that the Willowfair Season had finally begun. But Cressida knew better. Lady Eloise wanted to brag about her lucky strike. A Haverston name was not merely a big catch but the catch of not just this Season, but perhaps the rest of the year—or the decade!

"I notice your fiancé did not escort you?" Belinda pressed, giving Cressida one of those looks that were provoking and condescending, yet beautifully innocent at the same time. However the brat could master such look was a mystery to Cressida. The woman had obviously mastered the art of it.

"He's busy, I assume," she gritted out while chanting in her mind, 'You can't be on the Herald tomorrow, Cressy. You can't be on the gossip section. Not one name!'

The last time she came face to face with one of Belinda's friends, she ended up unintentionally emptying a glass of wine on the woman's dress. But it was Cressida holding the glass, so perhaps it must have been no accident after all, the gossips said.

Her mother had to pay off someone simply to make sure that incident did not appear on the Herald. Really, who fool would enjoy penning such petty things? Of all the valuable things one could write about, who would bother wasting strokes of ink on some foolish ladies hunting for husbands?

"Too busy for his betrothed? My, I wonder how he would manage to have an heir after you're married if he cannot force himself to be near you?" Belinda turned her all-too-perfectly-made red head to stare at the dancing couples in the ballroom, acting nonchalant. Another talent of hers, of course. Not everyone could utter insults clearly through barely moving lips except Belinda. "He will need an heir, yes?"

"You have such broad knowledge of the complexities of the subject, Belinda. I'm surprised."

The woman chuckled, pretending to watch the dancers that whirled past them. "But then, he could always sire an heir without his wife, if you know what I mean." Cressida's brow twitched, the last remaining strings that held her patience erect slowly cutting themselves. Belinda sighed dramatically. "You can always rear a child from one of his mistresses like a lot of women here secretly do."

Cressida forced a smile, eyes on the dancers, and murmured, "If that happens, I hope the child will not be from you, dear, because I cannot imagine rearing one with a brain like yours."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Belinda's eyes widen, mouth falling open as she scoffed. "Are you... Did you call me stupid?"

Without sparing the woman a look, Cressida leaned closer. "Now, why would I do that to a very respectable lady of polite society, Belinda?" she asked and sighed in mock boredom. "I'm not calling you stupid, dear," she said, finally eyeing Belinda with a slight sneer. "I'm treating you as one."