As soon as Romany was well out of earshot, Lady Butterclere leaned menacingly towards Henrietta. “Now you just take heed, Miss Reed. I know your sort only too well. You intercepted that note. You aim to set your cap at the Duke and distract him from Romany.” “I c-can assure you, such a thought was n-never on my mind.” “Was it not?” asked Lady Butterclere sarcastically. “Then would you explain to me why you were on your way to see the Duke in that provocative condition?” For a moment, she was horribly confused. What did Lady Butterclere mean in that provocative condition? With dawning horror, she remembered that she had not been able to hook up her dress she had rushed out of Kitty’s room without asking for help. Now she glanced into the mirror on the stairs and almost burst into tears at the sight that met her eyes. Her hair had come loose and now fell over her face untidily. Her dress had slipped off, exposing an alabaster shoulder and the tip of a heaving breast. What was more, she had forgotten to put on any stockings or shoes and was standing there in her bare feet. “Oh. Oh. Oh,” she cried. “I should think so too,” said Lady Butterclere with grim satisfaction. “You look like a a common harlot!”
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