Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Marie stared at the gentleman who was her father in this life. He went by the title the Duke of Carlisle. And he was not her real father. This gentleman was someone else.
She hesitated to enter the drawing room. It didn’t seem right to have dinner with someone who wasn’t her real father.
The Duke of Carlisle put the paper down. “You look lovely, my dear.” He rose to his feet. “I’m glad you didn’t make me wait long. We have much to discuss during dinner.”
“We do?” she asked, still not sure how to relate to a father who hadn’t raised her.
He nodded and escorted her out of the room.
“I am unable to chaperone you tomorrow at the museum. I wish I were available. Lord Gilbert is a highly sought-after bachelor. I had hoped to make his acquaintance, but I need to go to White’s to discuss investments.
” He gave her a grin that she suspected he often used whenever he mentioned money.
“I hope you’ll understand. The money, after all, is what provides both of us with a comfortable living. ”
Not knowing what else to say, she replied, “I understand. My lady’s maid told me she might be the chaperone.”
“Yes, Miss Parson does a fine job of making sure no one takes advantage of you in my absence. You are my daughter. My only child. In some ways, you are my personal investment.”
She didn’t know how to take that comment. If the father she’d grown up with had said such a thing, that statement would come from a place of love. She would have laughed. The way this gentleman said it felt much different—colder, impersonal. Laughing in this instance would be wrong.
They entered the dining room, and he gestured to a chair. “Have a seat, my dear. You’ll be happy to know that Cook prepared your favorite meal this evening: roasted pheasant, cinnamon apples, and potato soup.”
That did sound good. How did His Grace or the Cook know she loved these foods? She hadn’t told Tove what she enjoyed eating. Maybe she’d written that down in her future diary.
His Grace waited for her to sit before he settled into his chair.
As the butler hurried to serve them, His Grace began, “This Season is turning out to be much better than I expected. I have done an excellent job of building you up to the fathers of London’s finest bachelors.
No doubt, those fathers are nudging their sons in your direction.
” He let out a satisfied sigh. “You are so much like your mother in some ways. Like you, she attracted a lot of suitors. I counted myself fortunate to be the one she selected.”
“You and Mother had a love match?” Marie asked in interest.
“No, it wasn’t a love match.” The chuckle in his voice gave her the impression that a love match was a ridiculous reason for marrying. “Our marriage was a financially strategic arrangement with social benefits. Your mother is a relative of the Cadwaladers. That’s no small matter in London.”
She watched as he began to sip his soup. She didn’t have the same mother in this new life then. The mother she’d had before wasn’t related to the Cadwaladers.
She picked up her glass and sipped the water. Finding out that her father and mother in this new life hadn’t married for love was a bit disappointing. But certainly, there had to be something about her mother that her father had liked besides her money and family.
“What was it like when you were courting Mother?” she ventured, hoping he hadn’t told her the story so often in the past that he’d wonder why she was asking for it again.
“Courting your mother was a challenge,” His Grace said.
“As you know, I enjoy a challenge. She didn’t make it easy for me.
I had to wait until a spot was clear on her social calendar in order to get a chance to see her.
Like you, her dance card filled up within the first fifteen minutes at the balls.
She could snap her fingers, and gentlemen would line up to speak with her.
” His eyes twinkled. “That is the kind of lady who makes the win exciting.”
Marie’s eyes grew wide. In this new life, she had so many gentlemen wanting to dance with her that her dancing card filled up that quickly?
In her other life, her father struggled to find gentlemen to put on her dance card, and most of those hadn’t been bachelors.
The arrangement had only been made so that she wouldn’t spend all evening in the corner of the room.
She glanced at the soup in front of her. She dipped the spoon into it. If she asked too many questions, he might get suspicious, but she wanted to know more. “Did Mother have a lot of friends?”
“Of course, she did. Lord Cadwalader was her first cousin. Being her friend was to everyone’s advantage.”
She sipped her soup and frowned. Did that mean the friends her mother had didn’t actually like her? Did they only associate with her because of her connection to the Cadwaladers?
“Your mother would be pleased with the young lady you’ve become,” her father added. “It’s a shame she can’t be here.”
She wanted to ask him what happened to her mother. She assumed her mother, like the one in her other life, had died while she was a child. Unfortunately, she couldn’t ask him this. Doing so would definitely arouse his suspicions.
She turned her attention back to her meal, and the two continued on in silence.
“I’ve seen the Prince Regent, and that painting doesn’t accurately represent his likeness,” Lord Gilbert said the next afternoon.
“Oh, um, really?” Marie finally managed after trying to come up with a suitable reply for a good ten seconds.
“Yes, I got a very good look at him.”
Again, Marie faltered for something to say. Though she wasn’t interested in the topic, she had to come up with something. She gave a worried glance in Miss Parson’s direction to see if her lady’s maid could offer help.
Thankfully, while Lord Gilbert’s attention was fixated on the painting, Miss Parson whispered a suggestion in her ear.
“Did you have a chance to speak with him?” Marie asked. It was such a simple question. She should have been able to come up with it herself.
“No, unfortunately, I didn’t. I was in the vicinity when he had his coronation.
I happen to be acquainted with a gentleman who is an acquaintance of someone he knows.
” Lord Gilbert chuckled. “I assure you, it’s not as impressive as it seems. But seeing him is still something worth saying, don’t you agree? ”
Since he gave her an expectant look, she hurried to say, “Of course.” What else could she say in addition to that?
He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. “I bet this painting was done when he was younger. When I saw him, he wasn’t nearly this slender. Then again, I think most gentlemen don’t retain their youthful appearances when they reach their fifties.”
Marie’s gaze went back to the painting. She supposed George IV did look like he was in his late twenties—perhaps early thirties—in that painting.
She thought over the ladies she’d been around.
She had been so busy comparing herself to the ones her age that she hadn’t bothered to see what the older ones looked like.
Her gaze went to Miss Parson. Miss Parson was probably in her late twenties. She still had a slender frame.
She glanced around the room. While some of the older ladies did have a few more pounds on them than she and Miss Parson did, Marie didn’t think they were all that different.
The only lady she could think of who might have too much weight was Lady Cadwalader.
Not that she’d been able to get a close look at the lady.
The only reason she even knew that about her weight was due to the scandal that took place at a ball where Dr. Derek Westward, Lord Dodsworth, threw cheese at her and her friends and then compared them to rats.
Caricatures had been drawn about the incident.
Marie’s real father had secretly shown them to her one evening when they were having tea by the fireplace on a cold, winter night.
He usually kept such scandalous items hidden in a locked drawer in his library so she wouldn’t see them, but he’d been in a mischievous mood and had shared the gossip with her.
In those illustrations, Lady Cadwalader had been significantly overweight.
Marie was certain the illustrations had exaggerated the lady’s weight, but the image still stuck with her.
“Have you ever had the pleasure of speaking directly with a member of the royal family?” Lord Gilbert asked her.
She glanced at Miss Parson but then realized the lady’s maid wouldn’t know. She would just have to make a guess. The father she had in this life had been impressed with her mother’s relationship to the Cadwaladers. That seemed to be as high as she went in terms of societal influence.
“I’m afraid I never had the pleasure of speaking with anyone in the royal family,” she replied.
She noted a flicker of disappointment cross his face. “I heard that Lord Cadwalader has an acquaintance with someone directly in line to the throne.”
Marie had no idea if Lord Cadwalader had achieved such a feat or not, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he had. She searched for the safest answer she could give then said, “Unfortunately, I’ve never been in attendance when he’s spoken with this acquaintance.”
His eyes lit up. “So, it’s true? He has connections with an intimate member of the royal family?”
She took a deep breath then slowly released it.
What could she say to that? It was a shame she hadn’t thought to ask Tove for more information about this new life.
Thanks to her lack of foresight, she was struggling to come up with a reply.
Her life had changed, but that didn’t affect the Cadwaladers at all. At least, she assumed it didn’t.
Finally, she asked, “Who can be more influential than Lord Cadwalader?”
He let out a laugh and gave her a flirtatious pat on the small of her back. “Who, indeed?”
She forced herself to laugh along with him. She hadn’t considered the question that funny, but she supposed it could be taken as a joke.
“Let’s see what King George IV’s wife looked like while she was alive.” Lord Gilbert led her to the next painting. “King George IV didn’t want her to attend the coronation. The two didn’t get along.”
“That’s terrible.”
“They hadn’t gotten along for a long time. He only married her so his father would help him out financially.” In a lower voice, he added, “Word is that he was heavily in debt. I’m sure he was relieved when she died shortly after his coronation.”
Marie gasped. Certainly, that couldn’t be true.
It must not be true! People spread that lie out of boredom, or perhaps spite.
There simply could not be any truth to that story.
Even if some marriages didn’t result in a love match, it was much too horrible to think someone would want their wife to die.
She must not dwell on such rumors. It would only make her panic. She had taken on a new life to ensure that her marriage would be a good one. She would have love. She would not have to settle for less. Relaxing, she joined him as he went to another portrait.