Lord of Merve looked at the two ladies with contempt. He could feel the anger radiating off Lord Morge, who looked at the lady beside him. Lady Dustaine shrunk back at the dangerous look in Lord Morge's eyes. She felt extremely wronged. Silence descended as most could feel the dangerous air in the room. The headmistress was about to say more when she choked on her words. What was this feeling in the air? She felt as though the two men wanted to cut her into a thousand pieces.

“Do nothing. Let’s see how they play this out,” Lucy's bored voice lifted the darkness and lightened the air.

Lord Morge and Lord of Merve nodded and got up. They made a full bow to Lucy.

“We'll take our leave, then,” Lord Morge said then they nodded to the others before leaving. Lucy couldn't care less about them, as she made to leave.

“Lady Torgenn. Even though you are without motherly attention, you should not lack basic etiquette,” Lady Dustaine said. Her voice and eyes shot daggers at the small back that had paused midway.

“Really? What etiquette did I lack, Lady Dustaine? Please enlighten me,” Lucy turned and stared coldly at the woman before her.

“Did you not know that a woman is to remain silent when men are talking?” Lady Dustaine asked.

“Did you not see that they were talking to me? Or you thought they came all this way, left their homes and study to sit before me to discuss their matters-of-men?

Or were you too busy trying to gain the attention of Lord Morge, you lost all brain cells?” Lucy asked mildly.

Lady Dustaine choked on her words. She knew Lucy spoke truth. The two men were in fact speaking to her, but she had no intention of admitting that.

“Lady Torgenn!” the headmistress reprimanded.

“There is only one Lady Torgenn and she is six feet under. Do you really wish me dead or you; as the headmistress of this institution of etiquette, cannot even remember a person's formal title?” Lucy turned her attention to the headmistress.

Though her words seemed to rebuke the woman, her tone and manner sounded as though she was making small talk.

“Lady Wickshire, then; I had heard that you prefer to be addressed in that title of power. It is alright. What were you and the noblemen discussing?” the headmistress said mildly, as though indulging a child.

“Lady beaumont, the registry of the ministry of ownership and lineage has it recorded that I, Lucy Sharterux, daughter of Lord Torgenn, am in formality, Duchess of Wickshire. But I do not expect a woman of noble standing; who bothers only for sewing patterns and tea curtseys, to understand something as important as the workings of any ministry. It matters not, you are forgiven,” Lucy said mildly, her tone soft as though talking to a friend. Though her eyes remained cold, she gestured indulgently, portraying herself as benevolent.

The headmistress turned red; half from anger and the rest from embarrassment. Was she being looked down on?

She did not expect the little girl before her to be so good at layering words. She addressed her as though she was a child as she intended to be the motherly one, yet was turned into the child. She was forgiven? She does not remember apologizing! Though she looked down on this girl, she never expected she was really officially, Lady Wickshire. Was it possible she was lying? She coughed away the lump in her throat.

“It matters not what your title may be dear, you are still a girl. What serious thing could a girl possibly have to discuss with two such noblemen,” she maintained her smile. This was society. Even though she was angry inside and wished to tear apart this girl before her, etiquette demanded women smile and talk mildly as they fought with words. She maintained her motherly tone. Though it seemed stiff now, she still had confidence that this was a little girl she could squeeze under her wing.

“Serious? The noblemen and I sat with you all when we talked. Something so simple is hard to understand? Oh... It is my wrong. Women of noble standing such as your esteemed self, engage in greater knowledge such as tea and matters of weather. One need not expect more as it is beneath you,” Lucy softly said.

“You...” Lady Dustaine seemed to have reached her breaking point, but could not conjure the words to match her anger.

“Given that I forgot to invite you when I welcomed the two noblemen, I will not lack so much etiquette as to continue to take up space. As you had all made yourselves comfortable needless of invitations, I suspect you must have urgent need for a tea room. Forgive my intrusion. I will take my leave,” though Lucy's words led one to think her rebuking their actions, her tone as she gestured to them and the room made her look like a benevolent queen taking care of her subject's needs.

She strode out of the room, leaving them white as paper. Through it all, Mr Wensworth said not one word, as though hoping to be forgotten. He heaved a sigh when Lucy had completely left the room with her maids.