The August sun was merciless even beneath the shade of Lady Barrington's manicured gardens. The air shimmered with warmth and laughter, the hum of conversation mingling with the faint clink of silver and porcelain. A fountain murmured in the distance, scattering droplets like diamonds into the light.
Serena stepped from the car with the composure of someone entering a stage. The faint scent of roses clung to the path; parasols blossomed in every color. Emily followed, her expression as serene as ever, though her eyes flicked briefly toward her companion with something like apprehension.
"Remember," Emily murmured as they walked, "you're here for conversation, not conquest."
Serena's lips curved. "Conversation can be a kind of conquest, depending on the listener."
Emily sighed softly. "Just don't make him the center of the room."
"He already is," Serena replied, her smile unfaltering. "I'm simply ensuring I share the light."
