On a bright and breezy Tuesday afternoon last April, the Toronto socialite Kelly Barnicke hosted an intimate lunch for some female friends in her Forest Hill home. At first, the event unfolded precisely as it should have.

Barnicke, a willowy blonde whose wealth derives predominantly from her father-in-law’s commercial real estate empire, wore a white off-the-runway Giambattista Valli. Suzanne Rogers and such fellow fashion­istas as Lindsay Berry and Stacey Kimel showed up in Pucci, Oscar de la Renta and vintage couture. Forty guests sipped pink champagne as a chef prepared comfort food: mini-burgers, designer french fries with hollandaise sauce and caesar salad in tiny bread bowls.

The lunch was for a good cause. Barnicke was attempting to lure her friends and acquaintances on an exclusive trip to London to benefit the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award, a youth charity she supports. The three-day jaunt would coincide with London fashion week, she explained, with an itinerary that promised to “create everlasting memories,” not to mention a possible spread in Hello. (“One should be prepared for the presence of the paparazzi upon entering or leaving the hotel, to add to the excitement,” the e-mail invitation read.) The schedule was lavish: a cocktail reception at Buckingham Palace; lunch at the country estate of Prince Edward and his wife, Sophie, the Countess of Wessex; private shopping at Top Shop with Kate Moss; and a private viewing of the crown jewels.

At £10,000, the tickets were pricey, but, as Barnicke hastened to add, a party hosted by Daniel Craig would top off the trip. The assembled women swooned appropriately, thanked Barnicke for a lovely lunch and left.

A few weeks later, I contacted some of the guests to find out if they’d bought tickets. Most considered the charity a worthy cause and Barnicke a personal friend. But they expressed unease with the tone of the luncheon and especially the trip, which was repeatedly described as over the top. “I was sick and appalled,” said one woman, whose family lost a sizable percentage of its holdings in the stock market crash. “I can’t afford to give away that kind of money anymore,” another woman said. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t want my friends reading about it in Hello.”