If Wishes Were Earls by Elizabeth Boyle

concede.
    Meanwhile, Lady Essex was once again off and running. “Oh, goodness! Whatever is she doing here? I would have thought society would have grown tired of her by now.”
    “Whoever has you in such a fettle, Lady Essex?” Tabitha asked, looking in that direction.
    “That loathsome Miss Nashe,” Lady Essex said, her nose wrinkling.
    “Lady Kipps,” Daphne corrected. “Miss Nashe is now Lady Kipps.”
    “Yes, yes,” Lady Essex said, waving her hand at Daphne. “So the cit has gotten her coronet, but now it seems she is bringing her friends along.” The lady sniffed. “ ’Tis akin to feeding squirrels. Feed one and the next thing you know you are feeding them all.” She peered in that direction again, and turned to her nephew. “Who is that dreadfully thin lady with her? She looks French.”
    This was apparently not a characteristic in the lady’s favor.
    And before anyone could reply—not that anyone was rushing to supply Her Ladyship an answer—Lady Kipps and her companion were before them.
    “Lady Essex!” Lady Kipps said loudly, so all could hear her. “How delightful to see you again.” The countess curtsied perfectly, and they had no choice but to make theirs to her. “I am in alt that I have the privilege of introducing you to my dearest friend, Miss Murray.”
    Again, there was a round of strained but polite nods and curtsies.
    “Miss Murray,” Lady Essex mused, tapping her fan to her lips. “Do I know you?”
    “Oh, you will,” Lady Kipps rushed in. “Miss Murray was my particular friend at Mrs. Plumley’s School in Bath.”
    “I thought your particular friend at Mrs. Plumley’s was Lady Alicia.” Daphne glanced around. “By the way, where is Lady Alicia? You seem to have lost her this Season.”
    It was well-known that once she’d gained her marriage, Lady Kipps had dropped the poor but well-connected spinster, setting her sights for higher connections.
    “Lady Alicia? Poor darling girl. I believe she is taking the waters in Buxton. The rigors of the city and all,” Lady Kipps said with a breezy and dismissive wave.
    Harriet had spent her time taking Miss Murray’s measure, and found there wasn’t anything in particular she could dislike. Miss Murray, for her part, smiled slightly, and stood with perfect Bath posture in a proper, yet well-appointed gown.
    If anything, she seemed a bit mousy.
    But Harriet’s study of the other girl had not gone unnoticed.
    “Oh, Miss Hathaway!” Lady Kipps exclaimed. “Here you are. Yet again. How you do pop up.”
    Like a bad penny , her tone implied.
    “We just arrived,” Lady Essex said, edging closer to Harriet.
    “Has your mother come this time?” Lady Kipps asked, looking around.
    Harriet shook her head slightly. “No. I came to London with Lady Essex.” She had the distinct feeling she was being drawn into a trap.
    Of course she was. This was Lady Kipps. And she probably hadn’t forgotten Harriet’s part in the Mr. Muggins debacle.
    Harriet certainly hadn’t, doing her best to tamp down the memory and the wicked grin that threatened to give way.
    “And did you bring a companion this time?” Lady Kipps pressed, brows furrowed, all proper concern and care.
    And then Harriet heard the metal snap of the jaws.
    Of course she hadn’t, and Lady Kipps knew that. Harriet had limited means, and hired companions and expensive gowns were luxuries she couldn’t afford.
    “I could recommend an agency,” Miss Murray offered kindly. “I would be lost without my Miss Watson.” She turned to Lady Kipps. “A lady should never be without the steady grace of a proper lady’s companion.”
    Both ladies laughed, and when no one else did, Lady Kipps explained. “It was one of Miss Plumley’s most oft-repeated admonitions. No? No one else has heard it? But of course not. It is only at such a dignified and discerning establishment that one learns the true graces of society.”
    Harriet heard Daphne groan behind her fan. Lady Kipps had