Chapter Six #3
As though appreciating Farrah’s difficulty, the duke attended her mother and sister the moment he set foot in the orangery and continued to do so for the remainder of their visit.
He was careful though, Farrah noticed with amusement, not to fall victim to Sophia’s artful attempts to get him alone.
He turned at one point and winked at Farrah, clearly equal to Sophia’s stratagems; a skill no doubt honed through experience.
Thankfully, Sophia left his magnificent house with the sweetest of smiles gracing her pretty features and a tantrum was averted.
‘I think that went extraordinarily well,’ Mama said, once they were in the carriage and on the road home. ‘The duke and his brother seemed much taken with you, my love.’ She beamed at Sophia. ‘Not that I doubted it could be any other way, not once they had looked upon your lovely countenance.’
‘Mama!’ Farrah growled with frustration. ‘You seem to have forgotten the reason for our visit. And as things stand, charming though the duke and his brother might be, we are no closer to finding Papa.’
‘Oh, the duke will find him.’ Mama flapped a hand in casual dismissal of Farrah’s concern. ‘He is powerful enough to achieve anything he sets his mind to, and I am absolutely sure that no one can hide from him for long.’
‘What makes you suppose that Papa is hiding?’
‘The duke and Lord Ezra both seemed to like me.’ Sophia twirled a long curl around her index finger, behaving as though the subject of their father’s absence had not been raised.
‘But I prefer the duke. I believe in fate, and I was obviously drawn away from London for the express purpose of making his acquaintance. It was silly of me to put up objections. I can quite see that now.’
Farrah rolled her eyes and said nothing.
‘What did he have to say to you, Farrah?’ Mama asked.
‘He wanted to know more about Papa’s recent activities, but there was little that I could tell him.’
‘He ought to have consulted me.’ Mama seemed peeved.
‘I am perfectly sure that if there was anything you could have told him then you would have done so immediately. I know just how anxious you must be for the return of your husband,’ Farrah said, aware that her sarcasm would bounce harmlessly off her mother’s tough hide.
The only aspect of Papa’s disappearance that concerned Mama was her inability to cajole him into generosity.
Farrah had put her foot down and forbidden her to spend lavishly, which required her to curb her habit of entertaining all and sundry in an effort to impress.
They had believed at the time that Papa was at Dalton House diligently attempting to fix their financial woes by making economies on the estate.
Farrah had known that it would still take time for those economies to bear fruit and that incurring further debt would only exacerbate the situation.
Her warning would have gone unheeded, indeed it did so until Farrah pointed out that their credit was no longer accepted by merchants and milliners alike.
It was that truth, Farrah knew, that eventually persuaded Mama to leave London when Sophia was being openly feted.
Mama accepted that if so much as a whisper was heard about their impecunious state then Sophia’s chances of making a good marriage would be curtailed as a consequence.
But despite their caution, word had obviously leaked out, as it had a habit of doing within the gossip-hungry ton.
Nothing stayed secret within its confines for long, and its denizens enjoyed nothing more than to gossip about the travails of fellow aristocrats, which no doubt accounted for the lack of actual offers that came Sophia’s way.
Now Farrah’s sister had convinced herself that it had been her choice to leave London and that it could only be a matter of time before the duke fell prostrate at her feet, overwhelmed by passion.
‘I am delighted that we have been invited to dine with the duke tomorrow evening,’ Mama remarked. ‘It is the best possible sign. You must wear your cream muslin, my love. You look so enchanting in that gown.’
So she should, Farrah thought but didn’t bother to remark. It had been made for Sophia by one of the best and most expensive modistes in London.
‘We have?’ It was the first Farrah had heard of it.
‘Agnes has invited a few neighbours. It is more of an obligation than a pleasure, I dare say, which is why she is so pleased that we have come down early. She will be grateful to have people of our standing to add a touch of class.’
Farrah suppressed a giggle. ‘She said as much?’
‘Of course not, but it stands to reason. And you, my love,’ Mama said, turning her attention to Sophia, ‘will have an opportunity to shine. The duke cannot fail to be even more impressed when he sees you stand out amongst his guests.’
‘Mama!’
‘Don’t look at me in that fashion, Farrah. Even you must be able to see that if Sophia marries the duke – or even Lord Ezra – then our problems will be at an end. Really, sometimes I think you are jealous of your sister, and that trait does not become you.’
Farrah shook her head but refrained from further comment, aware that anything she said would either fall upon deaf ears or result in a serious dispute between mother and daughter.
The remainder of the journey passed in non-stop chatter between Mama and Sophia regarding the best way to lure the duke in.
Farrah didn’t hear one word in ten. Instead, she concentrated her thoughts upon her own interlude with that gentleman.
She was at a loss to understand why he had gone to so much trouble to ask her about Papa’s affairs.
The rule of law in their part of Hampshire did fall to his lot, it was true, but even so she was fully conscious of the honour he had bestowed upon her by delving so diligently.
With a rueful smile that went unnoticed by her mother and sister, she privately conceded that being in such close proximity to such an arresting gentleman had created havoc with her own equilibrium.
The weight of his dark, probing gaze resting upon her features as though he could see inside her head and read her thoughts had prevented her from reasoning things through with her customary clarity.
His insistence upon her visiting her aunt surely had to be based on something more substantial than instinct alone, she reasoned, thinking that was the subject that ought to be occupying her mind to the exclusion of all else.
What did he know about her family’s history that he had declined to share with her?
She should have pressed him on the issue, but since she had long felt the need to meet one of her few living relatives and would never get a better opportunity, she had remained silent on the point.
A letter awaited her upon her return to Dalton House, and she seized it before her mother noticed and asked awkward questions.
Her editor had told her that her services would likely no longer be required if she insisted upon leaving the ton while the season was still in full swing, but it seemed now that demand for her services was higher than ever, and that the Society Post could not do without her input.
Gratified, Farrah took herself off to her chamber and spent the next two hours dealing with the contents of the letter.
What were the most potent ingredients for a love potion? Miss A was desperate to procure Lord D’s affections.
Farrah giggled aloud as she concocted in her mind a convincing mixture of wild herbs and harmless liquids.
She then committed the ingredients to paper, along with an accompanying chant that she insisted was a vital part of the potion’s effectiveness.
The nib of the pen scratched as she wrote.
She wondered if Sophia subscribed to the fashionable new magazine that had become increasingly popular with the younger set, and which employed Madame Celeste to provide answers to such taxing questions of unrequited love, acquiring a perfect complexion, jealousy and other vital impediments to a successful marriage.
Casting her pen aside when she had answered the last of the questions, Farrah sealed her reply, which she would take to the post office herself in the morning.
She would not trust anyone else with the task.
Mama would be horrified if she learned of Farrah’s occupation, blithely unaware that Madame Celeste was the only person currently putting food on the family’s table.
Thinking of food, Farrah realised that time had run away from her.
She tided her hair hastily and went down to dinner, during the course of which the only subject of conversation was Sophia’s strategy for attracting the duke.
Farrah was not surprised that the two of them hadn’t yet exhausted that particular subject.
‘It is such a shame that there is no time to have a new gown made,’ Mama lamented for the fourth time, setting Farrah’s teeth on edge. She didn’t bother to point out that no such garment could be paid for.
Farrah excused herself as soon as the meal came to an end and retired to her room, attempting to lose herself in the pages of a book until fatigue overcame her and her eyelids drooped.