"You dare call my sister worthless?" Julian Conner’s smile tightened like a hinge forced to move. "Words need proof, Lady Katherine," he said. "An accusation without evidence is slander." "She called Madeleine barren," I said. "She said the Ford line would die out on Gwen's watch." A dozen lacquered faces turned. The junior Conner wives pretended to sip tea. Their eyes were knives. "Why defend a weak branch?" a woman asked. "The Ford bleeds money. Better to marry well than expect fighters with empty beds." I rose. Snow scraped the outer tiles; the hall felt colder. "You think you can announce my sister's womb as public business and expect me to applaud?" I asked. A high laugh. "It's not public if it's true." "I'll have apologies," I said. They laughed again. The sound was sharp and light. "Are you going to demand they bend and bow, Lady Ford?" Julian asked. "No," I said. "I demand honesty. Or I demand the cost of lying." One of the younger Conner wives, hair piled like a crown, leaned forward and spit the words like seed. "A widow with a modern's tongue and a dead womb—who wouldn't speak plain truth?" A servant at the doorway flinched. Her face was thin. "Traitor," I said. The high-piled wife smiled like she'd won. "You hit me!" she cried and slapped my cheek before anyone could stop her. Silence locked the room. "Apologize," I told her. "Now