Chapter 11 #2
Rose frowned. “It’s not a requirement, Inez.
As I said, I just wondered. That’s all.” She was terrifying the chit.
Oh, how Rose hated that about herself. Try as she might, she had no interpersonal skills whatsoever.
When one considered Sebastian’s stoicism, Antonia’s obsession with her coming baby, Claire’s many absences in Society events of late, clearly it rendered Gabriella as the only creature of Society of the Ryleigh clan.
Even Rebecca, Sebastian’s wife, had no patience for extraneous small talk.
Taking a deep breath, Rose gentled her tone.
“The young women who live in the house I’m taking you to come from all walks of life.
” She shook her head. “I’m not explaining very well, am I?
” she said with a self-deprecating smile.
“Never mind. I think you will fit in quite nicely. I wasn’t jesting when I said you would have a warm bed, food, and a new dress. ”
Inez didn’t appear any more appeased, turning her gaze out the window without speaking.
Rose decided attempting to explain things further might only frighten the girl more than she already was. She would turn her over to Gabriella and Mrs. Kier, the housekeeper.
It seemed forever before they reached Hope Street.
The journey couldn’t be over soon enough for Rose.
It was only a few minutes later the hackney-looking carriage turned down the short drive to the aging brownstone, driving past the large oaks and few elms that framed the aging portico, before rolling to a halt.
Rose was tempted to throw open the door and jump down without awaiting the steps, but decorum reined in the impulse.
Emerson’s driver, a curious man she’d hardly noticed before now, had the door open and was soon leaning inside. His brown features were obscured within the darkness of the cab. “My lady?” he said, jarring her inattention.
“Yes, of course. Thank you.” Rose took his bared hand, which felt odd in her own. She stepped down and aside to wait on Inez.
The heavy door of Hope House swung wide, and Mrs. Kier peered out. “Another ’un, Lady Stanford?”
Rose glanced back at the carriage where Inez had yet to appear. “I’m not yet certain, Mrs. Kier.” She peered atop and was surprised to see that Mr. Whitmore was nowhere in sight.
Good heavens. Rose started around the carriage, but Miss Macy and Mr. Whitmore appeared around the boot of the conveyance.
The first thing Rose noted were her white leather gloves now donned by Miss Macy’s roughened hands, and how she clutched Emerson’s arm.
Emerson seemed unbothered by Inez’s clinginess, and Rose’s heart melted a little.
“There you are, Miss Macy. Come, you must meet Mrs. Kier and the other girls.”
Her fingers tightened on Emerson’s arm, and Rose reassessed the situation.
“Mr. Whitmore, you must also come. See Miss Macy safely inside. I suspect she will trust your judgment. Will that reassure you, Inez?”
Her slight nod was barely discernable.
“We are coming, Mrs. Kier. Would you please send tea to the parlor? And send for the other young ladies if you will.”
“Aye, Lady Stanford. We’ll be awaitin’ ye.”
The troupe reached the portico, Rose stepping inside first. She released the tie of Mr. Whitmore’s greatcoat and hung it on a hook in the rustic foyer.
She glanced at Inez and was appalled to see raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Come, dear. We must get you near a fire to warm you up,” she said, leading them down the narrow wooden-floored hallway.
The parlor fire had toasted the room nicely, and Rose indicated a chair closest to the hearth.
Seconds later, a few of the girls filed in and curtsied. “Lady Stanford,” a few of them murmured.
Rose was disheartened, fully having realized she was not the girls’ most endearing benefactor. Her etiquette lessons earlier that week were testament to the fact.
Mrs. Kier soon followed with a rolling tray laden with lemon tarts, biscuits, and sugar and cream for tea.
“Kadida, perhaps you would be kind enough to pour.” Rose smiled at the girl.
Kadida nodded and began the process. When she reached Inez, her dark eyes widened at the pristine white gloves Inez wore before her gaze moved over Inez’s face.
“Is my sister or the duchess in?” Rose asked in general.
“Not as yet, my lady.” Vella was the seamstress and seemed to have stepped in as charge of the young ladies in Gabriella and Rebecca’s absence.
“I’m thrilled to introduce all of you to Miss Inez Macy, Mr. Whitmore, and—” Her gaze shot about. “Where is your driver, Mr. Whitmore?”
“With the carriage, Lady Stanford.” Oh, my. He was still angry.
While Kadida set about distributing cups with Mrs. Kier’s assistance, Rebecca strode in. “Ah, Rose. How nice to see you. Did you have luck regarding materials for the new frocks?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Mr. Whitmore, may I present my sister-in-law, Her Grace, the Duchess of Ryleigh? Rebecca, this is Mr. Emerson Whitmore of Whitmore’s Wholesale Warehouse.”
Rebecca pulled up. “Whitmore’s Whole…”
Mr. Whitmore gave an elegant bow that set Rose’s teeth on edge. “Your Grace. The bolts should be delivered by end of business tomorrow.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Whitmore. You will, of course, invoice Hope House.”
“I take it you operate on donations?”
Rebecca graced him with a smile that seared Rose with envy. “We do indeed, sir.”
“Then consider this my contribution to your cause, Your Grace.”
Rebecca’s eyes flicked from Emerson to Rose and back to Emerson. “You are most kind, Mr. Whitmore. We truly appreciate it.”
“Now, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave.” He turned to Rose. She shivered under his hard stare. “Do you still require a ride to Hatchards, Lady Stanford?”
“Um, no, er, thank you, sir.”
“Still, I require a word. If you’ll walk with me.” It was not a request so much as an implacable, well-worded demand. Softly issued, of course.
“Certainly, sir,” she murmured, preferring to dash up the stairs to cower in a broom closet in the old house. Surely, there was an empty one somewhere on the premises.
Oh, where was the new Adventurous Rose when one had need of her?