She knew only one Scoundrel’s wife, her dear friend, Jade, who owned the Benevolent Society for Downtrodden Women in Peacehaven on the Sussex coast. Oddly enough, during Lacey’s four years there, Jade had married Marcus Fitzalan, one of Gabriel’s Scoundrel school friends. She also knew Abigail who married Marcus’s brother Garrett. But she knew none of the other Scoundrels, their wives, their titles. She should have had Gabe make her a list, but it was too late for that now. As to titles, she had one again herself, so she felt less skittish about making light of the formalities. “Just call me Lace,” should work. With the butterflies in her stomach, she wore one of her new day dresses in gold gauzy muslin, trimmed at bodice, waist, and hem with an intricate embroidered edging in flowers and curls of aubergine. She loved the new styles. Since the last time she was measured by a seamstress, high waists had gone the way of walking sideways through doors to accommodate wide-hooped skirts.
