"That is kind of your mother. Please tell her that I send my thanks," Eloise said, comforted that others were looking out for her. "Why does it seem like there is more to be shared?"
Rosalie hesitated, her hands tightening around the folds of her gown. "I only spoke of the tamer rumours. There are far more that are vile. Of how Lord Hawthorne wasn't the first man you lay with, and that is why, on the night of your wedding, there wasn't any blood to be found."
Eloise frowned, her stomach twisting. The memory of that night returned of how there had been no intimacy between her and Damien then, only the quiet awkwardness of learning to share a chamber.
She turned to Damien, her eyes searching his face. "I don't think this is the work of Agatha. It has to be someone here, trying to share tales with outsiders."
