When Sorcha released her, Jocelynn was steadier. Two hugs. Two different kinds of support. She was still standing, and the walls around her heart were still in place. They had cracked, but they were still holding.
Jocelnynn thought that perhaps it was over now. Charlotte had pulled Baroness Sorcha into this, but Sorcha had been a commoner until she married her husband. She didn't have the same kind of trained restraint that most noblewomen did, and that Charlotte so blithely ignored.
Jocelynn thought that she could gather herself and return to the table and the wine and the careful, measured conversations that were supposed to come next.
Then Ragna stepped forward.
