Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 129 - Hundred And Twenty Nine

The carriage bearing the Hamilton crest slowed to a halt in front of Lady Sterling’s townhouse. It was a magnificent building of white stone, gleaming under the afternoon sun. The windows were tall and polished, reflecting the busy London street. To anyone passing by, it looked like a palace of joy and friendship.

To Ines, it looked like a fortress she had to breach.

The footman opened the door and offered his hand. Ines took it. Her glove was matching the velvet of her dress. She stepped down onto the pavement, her chin held high. She could feel her heart beating a nervous rhythm against her ribs.

Before she could even reach the steps, the front door swung open. Lady Sterling herself came rushing out. She was a woman who lived for two things: tea and talk. She was dressed in a bright canary yellow gown that seemed to scream for attention.

"Ines! Oh, my dear Ines!" Lady Sterling cried out, extending both hands. "I am so delighted you came! We were all terrified you would be too busy with wedding preparations to spare a moment for us."

Ines forced a smile onto her face. It felt stiff, like a mask.

"This is my first tea party, Lady Sterling," Ines said, allowing the older woman to kiss her cheek. "I wasn’t sure if you would love having me.Thank you for the invitation."

"Nonsense! Come in, come in," Lady Sterling chirped, linking her arm through Ines’s.

"Everyone is already here. We are just dying to hear about the dress. Is it true you are importing lace from France?"

They walked through the grand hallway. The floors were marble, and the walls were lined with portraits of stern-looking ancestors. The air smelled of expensive perfume and fresh lilies.

Lady Sterling led her to the drawing room. It was a large, airy space filled with sunlight. The walls were painted a soft, powdery blue. The furniture was upholstered in cream silk.

And it was full of women.

There were at least a dozen ladies scattered around the room on sofas and chairs. They were a sea of pastels—pink, mint green, soft lavender. When Ines entered, their chatter stopped instantly. A dozen pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

"Lady Ines Hamilton," the butler announced.

The silence lasted only a second before the chatter resumed, but the tone had changed. It was no longer idle noise. It was the low, buzzing sound of curiosity. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Ines walked further into the room. She kept her back straight. She nodded to the women she knew.

"Lady Palmer," she greeted. "Lady Taylor."

She found an empty spot on a velvet settee near the window. A maid appeared instantly, pouring tea into a delicate china cup. Ines picked up the saucer.

As she took a sip of the tea, she heard it.

"I heard the Duke was seen leaving his club early last night," a woman whispered nearby.

"Trouble in paradise already?" another voice giggled. "Well, it was a rather sudden engagement."

Ines stared at the dark liquid in her cup. They were talking about her. They were looking for cracks in her armor.

Then, she heard a sound that cut through the gossip.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

It was the sharp, rhythmic sound of a silver spoon hitting the side of a porcelain cup.

Ines looked up.

Sitting directly across from her, on a high-backed chair, was Priscilla.

Priscilla looked perfect. She was wearing a gown of pale lilac silk, trimmed with delicate lace. Her blonde hair was arranged in a complex pile of curls. She looked like a porcelain doll.

But her eyes were not doll-like. They were sharp. They were mocking.

Priscilla was stirring her tea. She was staring right at Ines. A small, mischievous smile played on her lips. It was the smile of a cat that had just cornered a mouse.

"Lady Hamilton," Priscilla said. Her voice was sweet, like honey mixed with poison. "What a bold choice of dress. Velvet? In this weather? You must be... sweltering."

The room went quiet. Everyone sensed the tension.

"I find the fabric comforting," Ines replied smoothly. "And the Duke is fond of this."

Priscilla’s smile didn’t waver. She took a slow sip of her tea. "Ah, the Duke. He has such... particular tastes. I suppose he likes things to be heavy and dramatic. Just like the books he reads."

Ines felt a cold knot form in her stomach. "I wouldn’t know about his reading habits, Priscilla. We discuss other things."

"Do you?" Priscilla asked. She set her cup down on the saucer with a deliberate snap. "That is a pity. I was just telling the ladies about a new book I found. It is quite scandalous."

Lady Sterling leaned forward, her eyes wide. "Oh, do tell, Priscilla! Is it a romance?"

"It is," Priscilla said, never taking her eyes off Ines. "It is written by that mysterious author... Arthur Pendleton. Have you heard of him, Ines?"

Ines gripped her saucer tighter. "I believe I have seen the name in shop windows."

"You should read it," Priscilla urged. "The latest one is fascinating. It is about a maid who pretends to be innocent, but in secret, she has the most... vivid imagination. She does things no unwed lady should know."

The ladies gasped and giggled.

"How shocking!" Lady Sterling laughed. "Where does she get her ideas? How does she know what to do?"

Priscilla leaned forward slightly. "That is the question, isn’t it? Perhaps she has a secret lover. Or perhaps..." Priscilla paused, her gaze dropping to Ines’s hands, specifically to the finger that sometimes had ink stains. "Perhaps she is just a desperate woman trying to climb the social ladder."

The insult hung in the air. It was a direct attack.

Ines felt a flash of anger. This woman was mocking her art. She was mocking her life.

"Perhaps," Ines said, her voice cool and clear. "Or perhaps, Priscilla, the author simply understands that a woman’s mind is capable of more than just choosing ribbons and stirring tea."

A few ladies hid smiles behind their fans. It was a sharp retort.

Priscilla’s eyes narrowed. The playful mask slipped for a second.

"Imagination is dangerous, Ines," Priscilla said coldly. "Soon, the maid will be exposed. Everyone finds out who she is. And do you know what will happen next?"

"No," Ines said. "Do tell."

"She is will be ruined," Priscilla whispered. "The Duke will leave her out of shame. Her family will disown her to save their reputation. Isn’t this the typical ending for stories like this?."

The room was deadly silent now. The other women looked back and forth between them, sensing a battle they didn’t quite understand.

Ines felt like she couldn’t breathe. The air in the room felt thick and hot. Priscilla wasn’t just talking about a book. She was telling Ines exactly what she planned to do.

Ines stood up abruptly. Her tea cup clattered slightly on the saucer.

"Ines?" Lady Sterling asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I... I apologize," Ines said. She pressed a hand to her forehead. "The heat... the velvet... I suddenly feel quite faint. I think I must return home."

"Oh, my dear!" Lady Sterling fussed. "Do sit down. Have some water."

"No," Ines said, stepping back. "I need fresh air. Please, forgive me."

She turned and walked toward the door. She moved fast, her skirts swishing around her ankles. She reached the hallway and practically ran toward the front door. The footman looked surprised but opened it quickly for her.

Ines stepped out onto the street. The cool air hit her face, but it didn’t help. She rushed toward her carriage, which was waiting a few yards away.

"Ines! Wait!"

The voice came from behind her.

Ines froze. She didn’t want to turn around, but she heard the rustle of silk approaching.

Priscilla was there. She had followed her out. She wasn’t running; she was gliding, calm and collected.

Priscilla stopped right next to Ines. She was close—too close. The smell of lavender water was overpowering. It made Ines feel sick.

Priscilla leaned forward. Her lips brushed against Ines’s ear.

"You ran away," Priscilla whispered. "That wasn’t very brave."

Ines stared straight ahead at the carriage door. "Leave me alone, Priscilla."

"I know," Priscilla hissed. Her voice dropped to a low, venomous tone that no one else could hear. "I know about the book you write. I know you are Arthur Pendleton."

Ines stopped breathing. Hearing it said aloud was terrifying.

"I will find proof sooner or later," Priscilla continued. "And I am done playing games with you."

Priscilla stepped back slightly so she could look Ines in the face. Her expression was triumphant.

"I will give you two choices," Priscilla said. She held up two fingers in her lace glove.

"One: You retire Arthur Pendleton forever. You burn your manuscripts. You never pick up a quill again."

Ines stared at her. Writing was her soul.

"Or two," Priscilla said, her smile widening. "You leave Carcel. You cancel the wedding. You tell him you changed your mind."

Ines eyes widened in shock. "You are mad."

"Those are your options," Priscilla said, shrugging her elegant shoulders. "Failure to do any of these... and I will expose you to the Queen herself. I will hand her your filthy book and tell her exactly who wrote it."

Priscilla leaned in one last time.

"Think about it, Ines. You can have your hobby, or you can have the Duke. You cannot have both."

With that, Priscilla turned and walked back toward the house. She didn’t look back. She walked as if she had already won.

Ines stood on the pavement. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

The footman opened the carriage door. "My Lady?"

Ines climbed inside. She sank back against the cushions. She closed her eyes, but she could still see Priscilla’s smiling face.

Ines opened her eyes. She looked at the driver through the partition. Her voice was quiet, devoid of emotion.

"Home," she said.