eloise bridgerton was not miserable. she maintained this assertion throughout the entirety of the off-season in the country. after all, what cause had she for misery? it was not as though she were about to be unceremoniously thrust into another social season, nor that she had discovered her closest confidante to be the loquacious viper, lady whistledown.

alas, it was so. upon discovering that penelope featherington had indeed been the notorious gossip monger that had entrapped the ton for two consecutive social seasons, eloise had kept her silence. she harbored no desire to blab penelope's secrets, although they stung like alcohol on a cut tongue. at least her mother's attention was on francesca's introduction as a debutant, rather than her own.

as a consequence, her choices in companionship had undergone a marked transformation. at the inaugural ball of the season, she was seen in the company of none other than cressida cowper, a young lady renowned for her churlish demeanor towards miss featherington, both in times past and present.

you were not aware of the specifics surrounding this most tragically silent falling out, yet it did not mean that you did not harbor questions. you could not be blamed, as cressida did not seem to fit into eloise's taste in company; or perhaps she had changed.

"i do not see why my choices in friends is raising so many eyebrows." eloise lamented, arms wrapped around her abdomen as she shot you a disdainful look for simply voicing an inquiry of the vaguest kind. it was as if you had set fire to one of her novels. she was dressed in a light mint dress, possibly the work of the modiste madame delacroix, back in fashion.

"perhaps the time away from social seasons has offered me a new perspective. maybe i have simply grown up a little, is that so unthinkable?" by the droplet of defensiveness in her tone however, it was not a stretch to assert that she was trying to convince herself of this claim, rather than you.