Chapter Eighteen
Farrah entered the duke’s sumptuous drawing room and made her curtsey to the duchess.
Far from permitting her to move on and allow others to greet her, the duchess engaged Farrah in polite conversation and seemed genuinely interested in her responses.
That was unusual in Farrah’s experience.
Great ladies were seldom interested in anything other than their own affairs.
With such an everyday example of genuine warmth and lack of artifice on their mother’s part, Farrah could quite see how the duke and his siblings had not grown into pretentious examples of entitlement and were instead down to earth and approachable.
Mama and Sophia had been greeted affectionately by the duchess, but only Farrah enjoyed her prolonged attention.
Farrah noticed her mother in the periphery of her vision, looking back at her and the duchess in animated conversation and frowning.
Presumably she, rather than the unpopular and undutiful daughter, was supposed to be the centre of attention.
Farrah suppressed a weary sigh of resignation, aware that her mother would somehow hold her responsible for the duchess’s behaviour.
She had not instigated the conversation, but it would be a waste of breath to make that point when her mother took her to task later, as she inevitably would.
The moment the duchess let her go Lady Charlotte, a picture of lively exuberance draped in pink muslin, descended upon her.
Her presence prevented Farrah from scanning the room, which was rapidly filling up with elegant ladies and the occasional resigned male escort, in an attempt to identify Mrs Armstrong.
It would probably be as well, she reasoned, not to rush up to the lady.
But there again, she couldn’t be sure how long the duke would delay his appearance.
He had tried to forbid her from speaking with Mrs Armstrong, presumably because he thought Farrah incapable of discretion.
Typical, she thought irritably. The duke was more liberal than the majority of gentlemen she had encountered, but still clearly considered her to be too feeble-minded to exercise guile.
‘Lady Farrah, I am so glad you could come.’
Farrah smiled at the younger woman. ‘Is there anyone who would dare to decline a duchess’s invitation?’
Lady Charlotte linked her arm through Farrah’s.
‘On no, of course not.’ She covered her mouth with her free hand, but a giggle still escaped.
‘But these occasions can be so very stuffy,’ she added, lowering her voice to a very audible whisper, ‘which is why I am glad to have someone closer to my own age to conspire with.’
‘I am positively ancient, and already in danger of becoming an ape leader.’
‘Nonsense! My brother says you are intelligent, and he is never wrong about these things.’
‘That is very generous of his grace,’ Farrah replied, attempting to hide her surprise at the duke’s willingness to speak about her, ‘but is it not very unfashionable for ladies to have even half a brain?’
This time Lady Charlotte did not attempt to temper her amusement. ‘Whoever made that decision must be a very silly person. I do not believe that brains are the sole preserve of the male sex.’
‘I agree, which is why it was very likely a man who came up with the rule to save himself from being eclipsed by a superior brain in a female’s head.’
They had strolled the length of the room and once again Farrah was conscious of her mother’s accusatory gaze drilling into her back as they passed the place where she was seated with Sophia.
None of the other ladies seemed anxious to join Mama, thereby preventing her from boasting about her “close” friendship with the duchess.
The blame for that situation would no doubt be laid to rest at Farrah’s door too.
‘I am sure you are right.’ Lady Charlotte paused. ‘Since I am determined that we are to be the best of friends I ought to tell you that what my brother actually said is that you are too intelligent for your own good.’
Farrah chuckled. ‘You see? Even such an enlightened gentleman as the duke struggles when he meets a female who is willing to talk about something more taxing than the weather.’
‘That is precisely my point,’ Lady Charlotte said, her pretty face alive with animation. ‘No one ever does talk about anything serious, I mean.’ She nodded to three ladies they had just walked past who were discussing the fashion for long sleeves. ‘I rest my case,’ she said, grinning.
‘Point well made, Lady Charlotte.’
‘Oh, please, just call me Charlotte. And I hope you shall not mind if I address you as Farrah.’
‘Not in the least.’
‘There. That’s settled then. I do so hate all these formalities, don’t you?’
‘Is Mrs Armstrong here?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Charlotte seemed surprised by the question. ‘Why? Are you acquainted with her?’
Lady Charlotte nodded in the direction of a tall lady dressed in a fashionable long-sleeved mauve gown that clung to her figure a little more graphically that some might consider proper for the time of day.
She stood by a long window, a little apart from the rest of the company.
She held a cup and saucer but did not appear to be drinking her tea.
Instead, she watched the room with seemingly avid interest. Her confident poise implied that she was not daunted by either her surroundings or the superior company.
Farrah covertly examined the lady as they approached her position.
She was probably about Mama’s age, she reasoned, but still very attractive – and, unless Farrah missed her guess, well aware of the impression that she made on the opposite sex.
If she was Papa’s mistress, then Farrah reluctantly acknowledged the attraction.
Mama’s constant litany of complaints would be enough to drive the most compliant of men into another woman’s arms. Papa had never been particularly attentive to any members of his family, especially not his wife, and had long since stopped answering to her for his activities.
Papa probably regretted his choice of wife, which made Farrah wonder why he had selected Mama from all the available debutantes at the time.
Whatever his reason ? momentary youthful attraction perhaps?
? he had lived to regret his impetuosity.
Be that as it may, Farrah could not approve of the manner in which he had abandoned his legitimate family, leaving them to wrestle with the mull he had made of his affairs while he basked in the material benefits provided by a wealthy widow.
‘Introduce me, will you?’ Farrah asked, aware of Mrs Armstrong now bestowing her full attention upon them both, her expression giving nothing away about her thoughts.
‘Yes, if you like, although my brother did ask me to keep you away from her.’ Lady Charlotte tilted her head. ‘Why on earth would he do that? I asked, of course, but he gave me no satisfactory answer.’
‘I would not have you disobey such a great man,’ Farrah replied, inwardly seething at his audacity. ‘Besides, it doesn’t signify. I am well able to introduce myself.’
‘Not a bit of it! Have we not just agreed that we are capable of making our own decisions? Anyway,’ she added with an impish smile, ‘I dearly want to know why he asked Mama to invite our new neighbour. It obviously has something to do with your own problems, and I have an innately inquisitive mind!’
Farrah laughed. ‘Well, if you are absolutely sure. If your brother scolds you then you can tell him that I forced you to oblige me.’
‘Oh, I am not afraid of Reuben. His bark is very much worse than his bite.’
‘ In that case…’
‘As I say, I have only just made Mrs Armstrong’s acquaintance myself.
She recently moved to the district, and no one knows much about her other than that she appears to be a very wealthy widow, but then I am not telling you anything that you did not already know, I suspect.
’ Lady Charlotte tilted her head. ‘She is very stylish, don’t you think? ’
They had reached Mrs Armstrong’s position, which saved Farrah from making any response.
She absolutely didn’t know what to make of the woman.
Highly suspicious of her motives, she would reserve judgement until she’d had an opportunity to converse with her and gauge her reaction to Farrah’s probing questions.
Lady Charlotte smiled as they approached and made the necessary introduction very prettily.
She looked irritated when her mother called to her and was obliged to walk away without hearing the nature of the conversation between Farrah and Mrs Armstrong.
Farrah, on the other hand, was pleased to have a moment alone with a person who may have some sort of connection to her errant father.
Farrah smiled at the woman, whose age at closer quarters was evident in her face.
‘You are Lady Farrah,’ she said in a melodic voice as she released Farrah’s hand. ‘I would have known you anywhere.’
‘Whereas I had no idea of your existence until a few days ago,’ Farrah replied, smiling but otherwise feeling no need to observe the social niceties.
Mrs Armstrong chuckled. ‘The reports that have reached me about your frankness have clearly not been exaggerated.’
‘I am at a loss to understand why you should have heard anything about me at all, or from whom.’
‘Are you indeed?’
‘What made you decide to settle in this part of the world?’ Farrah asked.
‘The desire for a change of scene and society.’
‘Please don’t patronise me, madam. If you would prefer not to tell me then simply suggest that I mind my own business.’
‘Which I am certain you would not do.’
Farrah lifted one shoulder. ‘You clearly have the advantage of me.’