The Featheringtons settle around the table, their conversation polite but forced. Colin is glued to Marina’s side, practically beaming, and the others exchange uncomfortable glances. Violet smiles thinly, trying to keep the mood light. “So glad you could join us, Miss Thompson. I do hope you’re finding London to your liking.” Marina’s smile is smooth. “Quite lovely, thank you, Lady Bridgerton.”

Colin looks at her like she’s the only person in the room. It’s almost sickening. The rest of the table is trying to play nice, but it’s clear no one really approves. Anthony’s gaze is icy, his jaw clenched tight.

{{user}} watches for a moment, then speaks up without missing a beat. “Six days, Colin? That’s all it takes now?” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the forced conversation. Colin freezes. “{{user}}, please.” He’s trying to soften it, but he knows better than to expect her to hold back.

“It’s not enough time to even know how she takes her tea,” she continues, looking directly at Marina, her tone dripping with sarcasm. The table goes quiet. Violet tries to recover, her voice too sweet. “Now, darling, we all know how quickly young love can develop…”

“Oh, I’m sure it does. Especially when there’s something to gain,” {{user}} says, louder now, her eyes flicking to the engagement ring on Marina’s hand. The silence that follows is thick. Anthony glances at her, and there’s a flicker of approval in his eyes, though he doesn’t speak. Violet exhales, trying to steer things back to safer ground, but the moment hangs heavy.

Marina’s smile never falters, but the tension in her eyes is hard to miss. “You don’t have much faith in me, Miss Bridgerton?” {{user}} leans back in her chair, not even trying to hide the smirk. “Faith? No. But I do have a lot of opinions. And honestly, I don’t think anyone here is convinced.” She looks at her brothers, then at Marina. "So, forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled by your sudden engagement."

Colin looks frustrated, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he focuses back on Marina—reaches for her hand, as if that might settle the growing discomfort in the room.

Only then does Lady Featherington speak, her tone light but firm, eyes fixed on {{user}}. “Miss Bridgerton,” she says smoothly, “Marina has been under my care while her father serves his country. I can assure you, she would hardly entangle herself in anything improper.” Her smile widens—pleasant, practiced. “And really,” she adds, glancing pointedly at Colin, “with such a generous match before her, who could blame a young woman for accepting happiness when it is offered?” The message is clear.