The drawing room was still lively as ever even after Rowan's departure.
Lady Farrington was recounting a story about a garden party in Sussex where the Duke of York had sneezed into a punch bowl. Aunt Margery was listening with rapt attention, feeding small pieces of biscuit to Fifi, who was perched on her lap like a furry queen.
Lady Celine sat by the window, the afternoon light catching the gold in her hair. She was talking to Ines about ribbons.
"I think velvet is too heavy for the season," Celine said earnestly. "But Mama insists it shows status."
Ines nodded politely. She was bouncing Baby Harry on her knee. Harry was currently trying to eat his own fist, a task he found endlessly fascinating.
"Mothers often have strong opinions on velvet," Ines agreed. "My own mother once tried to make me wear a bonnet with a stuffed bird on it. That was before my debut. I looked like a walking aviary."
Celine giggled. It was a sweet sound.
