Chapter Eight
“Do you think Madame Couire will be able to finish our gowns in time?” Merry had settled on a white creation embroidered with silvery primroses and enhanced with clear beading that added extra sparkle. “I fear I allowed her to talk me into something much more elaborate than I originally planned.”
“I am sure she will finish in time.” Serendipity had chosen a silky fabric of the palest lavender, its hem, bodice, and sleeves decorated with pearlescent satin appliqued leaves and vines.
“Since that new French modiste moved into Town, Madame Couire and her staff have become a great deal more accommodating. Did you notice?”
Merry couldn’t help but smile because the sometimes haughty modiste had often made her wonder why they continued using the woman’s services.
“They did seem friendlier, did they not?” She drew her small, ornate pocket watch out of her reticule and checked it.
There was a great deal more time left before dinner than she wished.
The less time spent in Lord Brixham’s company, the better.
“Of course, we’ll need to go upstairs, freshen up, and change before joining the gentlemen for dinner.
Agreed?” She showed Serendipity the watch.
Serendipity made a moue of distaste. “Yes. We will indeed need to go upstairs for a while. I will be speaking to Chance about his abrupt invitations and the intentions behind them. Hiding from an unwanted visitor is not the way I wished to spend the day.”
“Well, he must want the viscount for you,” Merry said, “because he knows I despise the man.”
Her sister appeared doubtful. “Chance has always possessed a blind spot when it came to Brixham. I’ve never really understood it.”
“Brixham is probably blackmailing him with some sort of trashy on dit from their days at university.”
Serendipity agreed. “Sadly, I would not be at all surprised.”
The carriage rolled to a stop, and they gathered their fur-trimmed cloaks closer as Jasper helped them step out of the carriage.
“My goodness.” Merry shivered and hurried up the steps. “The bite to the wind has returned.”
Fipps opened the front door before they even reached it. “Lady Merry. Lady Serendipity. I take it your shopping was successful?”
Merry came up short and stared at the man. “Why are you whispering?” she asked, keeping her tone just as hushed.
After a glance down the hallway at the closed double doors of the parlor, he offered to take their wraps.
“It appears we will not only be hosting Lord Brixham for dinner this evening, but Lord Kirkston as well.” Lips thinned to a taut line, he tipped a tense nod at the parlor.
“His Grace extended a dinner invitation to Lord Kirkston as well when he came calling for you, Lady Merry.”
Both thrilled and worried about what might be going on behind those closed doors, Merry nervously chewed on her bottom lip.
“I do not believe a world exists where Brixham and Duncan would ever get along.” Duncan might be a solitary sort, but his actions with others, especially servants, had revealed him to be warm and caring.
Brixham was a mean-spirited rake who cared about no one but himself.
He could not be trusted. She fully intended to have a long talk with Chance about his choice of friends.
Brixham might have been basically harmless as a youth, but now…
She shook her head. She would not put anything past the man now.
“Should we go in there rather than go upstairs?” she asked Serendipity.
“How long have they been in there together?” Seri asked Fipps.
“The better part of an hour and a half. Closer to two.” The usually staid butler seemed quite unsettled. “Your brother had the foresight to ring for a nice tea. George poured for them. I have yet to hear his report.”
“You spoke with Frogsden about keeping us informed?” Merry prayed the information wouldn’t prove unsavory.
“I did, my lady.” The butler glanced toward the parlor again.
Serendipity edged toward the stairs. “We should still go upstairs and prepare for an entirely different dinner than the one we previously envisioned. If we go in now, we very well could make matters worse.”
“You don’t believe they will do each other harm in there before we join them?” Merry asked the butler.
“They have not done so as yet,” Fipps said.
Merry found his tone less than convincing, but her sister’s perspective on the current bumble broth held merit.
“I agree we should go upstairs and prepare for this game. You remember Brixham always enjoyed dividing and conquering, and I doubt he has lost that trait with age. In fact, he has probably grown even cannier about it.” She turned to Fipps.
“If violence breaks out, send for us immediately. If not, we shall be down in time to seat ourselves for dinner.”
“I shall give it my full attention, my lady. You have my word.”
She and Serendipity hurried upstairs, each of them going to their separate rooms that were joined by a shared sitting room. At one time, before five of the seven sisters had married, that floor was the liveliest in the house. Now, it was sadly quiet and reserved. Merry hated it.
Her maid, Jenny, looked up from her mending when Merry entered. She hurriedly set aside her sewing and rose from her chair. “My lady, your Lord Kirkston is here and invited to stay for dinner as well.”
“I know. Fipps warned us. This cannot bode well. Lord Brixham will go out of his way to irritate Duncan purely for the thrill of doing so.”
“Word has it that Lord Brixham chided Lord Kirkston for being concerned about his man sitting out in the weather during the length of his stay.” Jenny’s face reddened, as it always did whenever she felt strongly about something.
“That Lord Brixham talked as if a servant’s comfort didn’t matter.
He acted as if the horses were more important than the man. ”
“And what did Lord Kirkston say?”
“Set that viscount straight, he did, on how much he valued his driver’s loyalty. Made that viscount look like the heartless scoundrel that he is.” Jenny made a face. “Beg pardon for my speaking so boldly.”
“No pardon necessary,” Merry said. “Lord Brixham is a heartless scoundrel. I’ve known that since we were both children. Why my brother finds that impossible to believe is beyond me.”
“Will you be going down, then, for your supper, my lady, or having a tray sent up?”
“I have to go down there now that Lord Kirkston is here.” Merry pulled hairpins from her hair and started undoing her braid.
“Serendipity and I have no choice but to join the men for dinner.” She turned for Jenny to get to her laces as she finished undoing her hair.
“I know I have already changed once, but this dress simply will not do for this battle. And another wash, please. Is there any water left in the pitchers?”
“Yes, my lady. The maids refreshed everything while you were out.”
“Well, of course they did. All of you always take the very best care of me.” As she buzzed around her room, she wished her other sisters were here. Serendipity helped as much as she could, but six voices, while maddening at times, often helped sort the wheat from the chaff much faster.
As she dipped her hands in the cool water and washed her face, another thought occurred to her.
Could it be that she was worried about nothing at all?
What had she always told herself about the uselessness of worry?
The irritating Lord Brixham would not play Duncan for a fool because Duncan was much smarter than that, and if anything, his presence might very well keep the viscount from becoming an even greater annoyance.
Everything would be fine. She felt sure Duncan had met the viscount’s type before, and she had figured out the conniving cod’s head long ago.
Chance still needed convincing when it came to Brixham, but he had matured immensely over the years since Papa’s death. So maybe there was some hope yet.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and see sense. Everything would be fine. With Serendipity’s help, she would see to it.
“Which dress shall it be, my lady?” Jenny waited in front of the wardrobe with both doors thrown open wide.
“The green silk with the gold embroidery.” Not only was it Merry’s favorite gown, but Duncan hadn’t seen her in it. Good heaven, she was thinking like one of those empty-headed, husband-hunting debutantes.
With a snort, she shooed away the silly notion.
Wearing a favorite garment was like wearing the proper armor.
It built upon one’s confidence. Likewise, she used her favorite lilac-scented soaps and oils.
Breathing in the sweet florals not only calmed her but kept her head clear.
And if she knew anything about the wily Lord Brixham, it was that he kept one on one’s toes.
“Will you be choosing a different necklace and earrings, my lady?”
She touched the locket at her throat. “No. My locket and pearl earrings will do just fine.” A glance at the small, ivory-faced clock on her nightstand encouraged her to move a bit slower. “We must take our time, Jenny. Seri and I do not wish to join the gentlemen until right before dinner.”
With a knowing smile, the maid picked up a hairbrush and waved it in the air. “Understood, my lady. Have a seat so I can brush your hair with the greatest of care. Then we shall dress you and brush it again.”
In nothing but her chemise, stays, and stockings, Merry perched on the chair, nodding at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. “You understand me perfectly, Jenny…as always.”
*
In a different time and a different place, Duncan knew without a doubt that he would happily snap Lord Brixham’s neck with no remorse or concern about the consequences.
The viscount was one of the most irritating bastards he had ever had the misfortune of meeting.
How in the name of all that was holy could Broadmere ever consider such a man his friend?