Chapter Four #2
He could not at first work out why the idea seemed to strike hard, but then he remembered she’d been raised somewhere remote in the Dales.
She would not have been exposed to profligate young men looking round them to discover where they could locate more funds to throw away. The idea must be found shocking.
Leland turned the conversation to more usual subjects and discovered she’d brought her horse with her to Town.
A Dales pony. As far as he could gather, all of the Nicolet daughters were expert horsewomen, but for the youngest, who would only walk her horse.
At least, he must suppose so, as Lady Winsome described galloping across fields and jumping farmers’ stone walls.
He also found out Lady Winsome favored gothic novels.
He had not read any himself, but understood they were very popular with ladies.
He was not precisely sure why, though, after she described the one she’d just finished reading.
A Spanish ghost who’d been unjustly killed during the Inquisition got transported to England via a haunted vase and was so enraged that it attempted to drive the inhabitants of a castle mad?
The prince and his betrothed were particularly hard hit, as the ghost kept trying to make the princess jump off a balcony, while the prince kept getting the urge to throw himself into a fire.
Apparently, it all ended well enough, though he was not at all clear on what happened to the vase, or the ghost.
“So your father mentioned you will attend Almack’s?” he asked, though the idea had already been confirmed.
“Yes, of course I will, it seems a duty as all my sisters have gone. You will attend, I think?”
“Yes, yes,” he said. She really was the loveliest creature he’d ever set eyes on.
“There you are, Winny,” the duke said. “Time to scarper like housebreakers at dawn. We’ve done our duty, no need to be excessive about it.
Landry is going to take us, since your aunt has done a runner.
Manderbey, the dowager and I have got it all worked out.
We will see you Wednesday at Almack’s and Thursday to dine. ”
Leland bowed and the duke took his daughter away. He watched them head toward the doors, the duke gently pushing people to the side to make way for Lady Winsome. She really was so pretty, and there was to be a dinner.
All he need concern himself about was that his grandmother did not read too much into it and decide to involve herself in some way. And why Landry should be taking them home.
*
Though it was still early morning, Winsome had donned her pelisse and hurried two doors down to Lord Thorpe’s house to find her sister, Serenity.
She must talk to a sister, and Valor was not the right sister. The day before, Valor had been satisfied enough to hear that the curtsy to the queen had been a dreadful experience. Winsome had not mentioned she had encountered Lord Manderbey in the reception room.
Winsome really was very glad that the curtsy was over.
There had been something nerve-wracking about standing in a line of other ladies, waiting to be called, while her aunt stood stone-faced by her side.
At times she’d wished to hurry, or slow down, or disappear altogether.
She sometimes had a strong urge to pick up her stupid skirt and run away.
After all, what could they do to her if she did?
Other of the older relations who acted as escorts were patting their girl’s hand or whispering comforting things to them. All Lady Marchfield had to say was curtsy to the ground, be demure, back away, and don’t fall over.
Then, her time had come. She did as her aunt had advised and curtsied very low. The queen instructed her to rise. Just when Winsome had been hoping to make her escape, Her Majesty said, “Another Nicolet, I see?”
Winsome had prayed she would not be talked to. As it was, she said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Lady Winsome, do you intend on causing as much mayhem as your most recent sister?”
Of course, Verity had made a societal ruckus, even causing the queen to step into it. But how was one to know the future? Nevertheless, she suspected the correct answer and gave it. “No, Your Majesty.”
“I suppose we will see,” Queen Charlotte said. “You may retreat.”
Winsome backed away as carefully as she could. It was so awkward to not be able to see where one was going. She hoped there was not a stool behind her that she’d failed to note.
But finally, she was out of it. She’d curtsied low and backed out without falling over anything.
She had, until this moment, been the smallest bit resentful that she and not her older sisters had been forced to go through it.
Now, though, as she reflected on the experience, she realized what a blessing it was.
Felicity would have been in a temper over it.
Grace would have never got out of it without rolling across the carpet.
Patience would have toe-tapped through it, letting all and sundry know she found the slow-moving ceremony tedious.
Serenity surely would have wept. And Verity, one could only speculate on what nonsense she might have posed to the queen.
Her Majesty had eventually found out about Verity’s nonsense through other means, but it would not have gone over as well at a presentation.
In the end, Winsome must satisfy herself that she was the only sister suited to come through the whole preposterous afternoon unscathed.
Once she had come through it, her aunt had led her to the reception room and handed her over to the duke. Then, Lady Marchfield had left. She’d just said, “Good day,” turned, and left.
Her aunt had left them there without their own carriage. What in the world was Lady Marchfield up to? It was all so strange. Winsome had prayed they were not to walk home. It was not too far, but the dress…
And then, much to her great surprise, she’d encountered both Lord Manderbey and Lord Landry. Not only to her surprise, though. To her trepidation, too.
She’d been determined to discover if what Lord Landry had said was true.
He’d hinted that Lord Manderbey was in some sort of financial straits.
He was dunned on account of it. Had he admitted it or had he not?
He made some offhand comment about cards.
But he’d really not revealed if he were in straits from foolish gambles.
He seemed to laugh it off. Was it nothing, or was he hiding a secret?
Gentlemen were so cagey!
But then, he was so handsome. So sophisticated.
Really, such an elegantly manly sort of man.
He was tall and his features were finely composed—deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, dark hair.
When they’d stood at the windows she’d detected the scent of bergamot soap.
His clothes were immaculate and he was not overdecorated, just wearing a gold signet ring.
Everything about him spoke of a quiet ingrained confidence.
During the years her sisters had gone before her, she’d given much thought to what her type of gentleman must be. She’d never come to a conclusion until she’d set eyes on Lord Manderbey at Verity’s wedding. She’d been thinking of him ever since.
Was that wise, though? After all, there were several things running against it.
He’d not expressed any particular interest. She’d felt something between them, some sort of initial spark, but that could very well be her wishful imaginings.
And then, even if he did express interest, what sort of man was he really, underneath the urbane mien?
Could he be an inveterate gambler, always sinking under debt?
If he were, and he expressed an interest in her, how could she know it was not her dowry that attracted his notice?
She would not mind so much living in straightened circumstances as she would mind knowing she’d just been a ticket to more money to gamble away.
As well, she must not forget all the lessons she’d learned from her novels.
The villain did not advertise himself. He could often be mistaken for an honorable man…
until it was too late. At least, almost too late, as the case usually was in stories.
It was a brisk morning and Winsome pulled her cloak tight around her as she hurried to Serenity’s house two doors down. Lord Thorpe’s butler answered the door, looking surprised to see her. She supposed he would be, as it was not yet nine o’clock.
“Lady Winsome,” he said, “Lord Thorpe has gone out to exercise his horse in the park and Lady Thorpe is still abed with her breakfast.”
“Oh she will not mind if I barge in,” Winsome said, handing over her pelisse. “I know where it is.”
She took the stairs two at a time and made her way to Lord and Lady Thorpe’s suite of rooms. After a quick knock, she let herself in.
At no surprise to Winsome whatsoever, she found Serenity teary-eyed with a cup of tea on the window bench.
Havoc and Nelson, Lord Thorpe’s great beast and Serenity’s beloved three-legged dog, lounged on a sunny spot of carpet.
They both wagged their tails but did not bother to get up.
“Winny! You’ve been out already. What a morning! Did you note the dew sparkling in the sunshine—it is sublime.”
Of course, Winsome had not at all noticed the sublime dew. “Spectacular, I’m sure,” she said, giving Nelson and Havoc some head scratches. “I’ve come to tell you everything about yesterday to hear your thoughts.”
“Gracious, the curtsy. How did you get on? I’m sure I would have wept.”
Winsome had no doubt of it. Though Serenity was grateful not to have been put through it, as all her sisters would be, she was eager to hear every last detail. She rang for a second pot of tea and an extra cup and Winsome told it to her.