«You girls go back to your stroll, you don't need to pay attention to us,» the man says, getting up and walking to them.
I take the chance to fix the shawl on my shoulder and move the hair behind the ears. I won't look presentable no matter what I do, so I just move the locks away from my eyes.
Now, several people are looking at me. Most of them are girls or servants, and they're staring at me with contempt. Their accusing eyes won't move away, and no one looks willing to help me.
I get up on my own and dust the skirts. My left cheek is burning, and my palms are full of little scratches.
«What are you doing here, George?» one of the girls asks, curiously staring at the man. «This is the Duke's private garden.»
«I got an invitation,» the man answers simply.
«Who invited you?»
«The Duchess!»
I'd like so much to open my mouth and say that I haven't invited anyone, but who would believe me?
