Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Sally walked as slowly as possible, as if hoping Bailey might reappear, but Morrigan ushered the girl out the kitchen door, emptied the bucket, then ventured upstairs.
The dinner hour was approaching. Likely all the family were changing.
Usually, when Maisy was helping Her Grace the Second, the ladies’ maid asked Morrigan to watch Anastasia.
It was hard enough keeping dog hair off the duchess’s gowns without the pug jumping up on her in the middle of dressing.
“Right on time, Morrigan,” Her Grace the Second said with a fond smile as Morrigan slipped into the bedchamber. “She’s been a very good girl this afternoon. Perhaps Cook could find something special?”
If that pug ate anything more, they’d have to purchase a bigger collar! “I’ll see what we can do, Your Grace,” Morrigan assured her. She patted her thigh. “Come along, Anastasia.”
The pug wiggled on the carpet, watching her mistress hopefully.
“Go on, now,” Her Grace said. “I just told Morrigan what a good girl you are. Don’t make me a liar.”
The pug collapsed on the carpet as if having no more energy to move.
Morrigan rolled her eyes and went to pick up the dog. Definitely fewer treats in the future!
At least Anastasia didn’t wiggle in her grip. The pug allowed herself to be carried down the stairs, through the house, and out into the rear garden, where Morrigan set her down. “There, now. Do what you need to do.”
Apparently, what Anastasia needed to do was sniff.
Morrigan ambled along, keeping an eye on her. She almost missed the couple standing at the end of the garden.
Bailey and his sister. Why hadn’t Sally left? By the look on Bailey’s face, the news wasn’t good.
Morrigan hurried to meet them. “What’s happened?”
Sally fidgeted.
“Apparently, my sister didn’t want to tell me that Mum’s doing poorly,” he confessed.
“She was having one of her spells before she went to sleep,” Sally said, tears brimming. “She didn’t even know who I was.”
Morrigan put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You were right to come. I know Tom wants to help.”
Bailey looked back at the house. She could see his thoughts as if they’d been written on his face.
It was Wednesday, and the footmen would be expected to serve in full dress.
“Go,” Morrigan said. “I can help with the serving.”
Bailey’s gaze met hers. “You’re not a footman.”
“No, but I’m strong enough, and I own a proper dress.” She flapped her hands. “Go on with you now. I can do this, Bailey. I’ll explain to Mr. Kinsle. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Sally glanced between them. “Could I help too?”
She couldn’t serve. She had no experience, and Mr. Kinsle would balk at setting her to learning in front of the duke and his guests, particularly the colonel.
“You told me you like dogs,” Morrigan said.
She brightened. “I love them!”
“She’s always been good with animals,” Bailey said, smiling at her fondly. “I had to keep pulling her back from every sheep on the green, every bird that fluttered into the garden. But mind you, Sally, this is Her Grace the Second’s precious pup. You need to treat Anastasia like royalty.”
Morrigan took Sally’s hand. “It’s easy, I promise. Here, I’ll show you.” Morrigan nodded to Bailey. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back.”
He bent closer and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “You’re a wonder, you are. I owe you for this.”
Morrigan grinned as he pulled away, but her cheeks heated. “I’ll think of something big and heavy for you to lift.”
Laughing, he turned and sprinted from the garden.
* * *
Hugh sighed as the weekly dinner at the manor ended, and everyone rose from the table.
“I heard that,” Georgie murmured beside him. “You have every reason to be relieved. Pip did quite well.”
The boy had been a model of decorum that evening. He’d said little, it was true, but he’d answered questions respectfully and, on occasion, with grammar intact. Even Colonel Bancroft had remarked upon it.
“Quiet lads, both of them, which I find refreshing,” he’d said over the sturgeon steaks with mushrooms.
Hugh and Georgie, who had been seated side by side with Oliver on her right and Pip on Hugh’s left, had exchanged glances. Oliver was always quiet, especially in company he didn’t know well, like her father. This was new for Pip.
Oliver tugged on Hugh’s hand now as the company headed down the corridor for the sitting room. “Excuse me, Mr. Caddington. May I take Pip on a tour of the manor? He’s never really seen it. We could start with the portrait gallery.” His eyes glowed.
Pip shifted from foot to foot as if he couldn’t wait to escape all the formality.
“That should be fine,” Hugh told them both. “But no larking about, Pip. Remember, this is the duke’s home.”
“Right you are…” Pip drew in a breath. “That is, yes, sir.” He elbowed Oliver. “Come on, then.”
The two of them walked in the opposite direction.
“You know they’re going to run the moment we cannot see them,” Georgie said with a smile.
“So long as Oliver prevents him from sliding down the banister, I will be content,” Hugh replied.
They strolled after the other adults, who found seats in groups of two and three. Sir Winfred leaned back in his chair and glanced around as if counting heads. “Excellent! Just enough for two sets of whist.”
“Oh, I think we have better entertainment than that,” Colonel Bancroft said, snapping shut his pocket watch, which he’d been consulting as if they were all behind schedule. He nodded to Georgie. “Play for your father, my gel.”
Hugh nearly bridled at the proprietary tone.
His Grace merely smiled. “If you’re willing, of course, Georgie.”
Georgie smiled back, then turned to Her Grace the Third. “I’d be happy to accompany Sophia.”
The other duchess shook her head regretfully, light-brown hair shining in the candlelight. “I’m out of practice.”
“But well trained,” Her Grace the First put in. “I don’t think Ben has ever heard you.”
“Neither have I,” Hugh said.
Sophia smiled at him. “Well, then, how can I refuse?” She rose and followed Georgie to the piano.
As the two conferred on music, Hugh went to sit near the wall, where he could see Georgie best. She positioned her hands, then nodded to Sophia, who stood taller.
“This is The Curfew Tolls the Knell,” she announced.
Hugh tried not to wince. The song had more than thirty verses. He was thankful that not only was Sophia’s voice pleasant, but she only sang five verses of the ballad about the wonders of pastoral beauty and the joys of honest labor. He wasn’t the only one applauding when she finished.
She curtseyed. “Thank you all. And thank you, Georgie, for playing.”
Georgie inclined her head. “Always a pleasure to accompany a talented singer.”
“Now let’s hear you alone,” the colonel insisted.
Hugh couldn’t help frowning at him. Why force Georgie into prominence like that? Was her father merely trying to prove he still had some control over her, or did this performance have another purpose?
She turned the same indulgent smile she used on Anastasia on the colonel, then rearranged the sheets of music before her.
A moment later, she launched into a spritely piece that set Sir Winfred’s toe to tapping.
The music drove back the shadows and brought a smile to every face.
The applause was even more fervent when she finished.
Her father nodded. “Best fingers for forty miles.”
“Fifty,” Her Grace the First insisted. “Well done, Georgie! I can’t wait until you can play in the new conservatory!”
“Better acoustics,” Ben confided to the colonel.
“Now, I have a request,” Georgie said, setting her hands in her lap. “Another singer, who I recall has a very fine voice. Hugh, may I accompany you?”
Everyone turned to him. The other two duchesses and Ben were clearly surprised, Sir Winfred was frowning as if he had never considered Hugh in that light, the duke was smiling, and the colonel was turning red. That alone would have made the effort worthwhile.
“I’d be honored,” Hugh told her. “But I’m also out of practice.”
“Oh, come on, guvnor!”
He swiveled to find Pip and Oliver in the doorway. His ward strode into the room. “Show them how it’s done.”
Oliver followed to whisper something in Pip’s ear. Hugh’s ward turned pink.
“That is, I would very much like to hear you sing, Father,” Pip said.
Hugh’s heart threatened to swell out of his chest. “Well, then,” he said, rising, “in the words of Her Grace, how can I refuse?”
As Hugh approached Georgie, she shyly offered him a stack of music. “Would any of those do?”
He thumbed through the pages, mindful of Her Graces making room for the boys to sit. Worse, he could feel the colonel’s glower.
One title sprang out at him. He cleared his throat. “Would you feel comfortable playing this one?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes. Give me a moment.”
She glanced through the music, looking up at him once or twice, then set the sheets before her and nodded.
Hugh took up his position in the curve of the Broadwood grand, where he could still see her and her him. Georgie played the introduction.
“Wilt thou be my dearie?” Hugh sang.
“When sorrow wrings your gentle heart,
O, wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul
That’s the love I bear thee
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie.”
He’d heard the words of the Scottish song at many a musical evening in London, but never before had they meant so much.
He found himself gazing at Georgie, pouring out his heart.
Her fingers never faltered, but she never took her gaze from his.
He wasn’t sure when the music ended. He was too wrapped up in her.
In a far country, someone began clapping.
He shook himself and managed a bow, then offered a hand to help Georgie rise. She curtseyed.
“A fine performance,” the duke heralded. “You two make the perfect pairing.”
“A fine performance indeed,” the colonel said with a nod toward Pip. “But I think your… son is tiring.”