Chapter Eighteen #3
Rose set down her teacup with perfect composure. “I am. As you might imagine, admitting our mutual affection was complicated.”
“I should say so,” the Duchess of Devonshire said. “Is it true you would meet secretly in the gardens? To spend time with a man you thought a common gardener?”
“They were not clandestine meetings. Not at first anyway,” Rose said, flushing pink.
“I have a great fondness for our gardens. They were designed by my late mother, and I feel particularly close to her when I am in our rose garden. It was her favorite. When Sebastian appeared one day, I was appalled to realize how attractive I found him. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself in love with one of our gardeners. Believe me, I fought against my feelings, having no idea that Sebastian was actually the son of a disgraced duke. He played his part well.”
“How Shakespearean,” Lady Pembridge said.
Rose smiled. “I suppose it was. Now, however, we are simply a happy couple, in love, with a growing family. The past has been left where it belongs. In the past.”
“That’s remarkably forgiving of you both,” the Duchess of Devonshire said, clearly impressed.
“The love we share is deep,” Rose said. “We could not walk away from each other over the sins of my father.”
“Soulmates, I dare say,” Georgiana said.
“I believe so,” Rose said with a glance at her sister-in-law. “I am besotted with my remarkable husband, and he with me. We chose love and forgiveness over hate and grudges.”
“It is very romantic,” Lady Pembridge said. “I have to admit to feeling a little jealous. My match with Lord Pembridge was out of convenience, rather than love.”
“Our love was anything but convenient,” Rose said. “I thought, at times, my heart would break into a thousand pieces.”
“But a happy ending was waiting for you,” Lady Pembridge said.
Lady Ridgeway leaned forward, her gaze directed at Georgiana. “I have heard you have an interesting love story of your own.”
“Is it true you disguised yourself as a male architect?” Lady Westbrook asked, sounding as if she found this admirable.
Georgiana shook her head, speaking easily and with a touch of humor in her voice.
“No, that is not true. My late husband was an architect and taught me the craft. After he passed away, I assumed his role at the firm. I was hired by James to restore Ashford Manor, which had fallen into disrepair after Lord Ashford’s death.
We became friends, which turned into a great love.
Like Rose and Sophia, I am blessed to be married to a man I love with all my heart. ”
“How did you learn such a skill?” The Duchess of Devonshire asked. “If only all of us had the opportunity to do something meaningful with our lives.”
“Do you mean other than attending balls and teas?” Lady Pembridge asked, smiling.
“That is precisely what I mean,” the Duchess of Devonshire said. “But alas, we are women, meant for the entertainment of men only.”
No one spoke for a moment, perhaps considering what they would do for work if they were allowed.
“Is it true your husband won a tavern in a poker game?” Lady Ridgeway asked a few seconds later, eyes sparkling.
Georgiana laughed softly. “That is indeed true. He is quite clever at cards.”
“Luckily, because it kept them from starvation before their family name was restored,” Rose said.
Mrs. Hartford’s expression had turned from skepticism to what looked like approval. “All three of you have weathered much in your young lives. I, for one, am in awe of your fortitude and courage.”
The other ladies nodded, clearly in agreement.
“We mustn’t believe most of the gossip in our circles,” Lady Ridgeway said. “It feels particularly vicious of late, does it not?”
“The Countess of Hartwell has been energetic in spreading rumors about Lady Montrose,” Mrs. Hartford said carefully, though her tone was not pointed, only thoughtful. “She has gone to a great deal of trouble to paint your family in a certain unflattering light. One wonders at her motivations.”
Charlotte seized the opening to speak directly about Constance. “Lady Montrose’s mother-in-law has never recovered from losing her daughter, Rebecca. Grief can make people behave in ways they otherwise wouldn’t. I find it quite sad.”
“Yes, it is sad,” Lady Ridgeway said. “But terribly unfair to Lady Montrose. I find it deplorable.”
“My mother told me once,” Rose said, “that the cruelest people are usually the most wounded. Though that doesn’t excuse cruelty, of course.”
“Indeed not.” Lady Pembridge bobbed her head in obvious agreement. “And to your point, Lady Ridgeway, we must be discerning about what and who we choose to believe.”
“I agree,” the Duchess of Devonshire said. “And frankly, I’m rather tired of listening to vicious gossip. Half of London seems to have forgotten basic civility.”
“As women, we must remain united,” Lady Ridgeway said. “Support one another rather than tear one another apart.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Georgiana said.
Then Lady Pembridge set down her teacup with a decisive clink.
“That settles it, then. I think Lady Montrose has been subjected to quite enough suspicion. She’s clearly a woman of substance and sincerity. And the Ashford family has demonstrated remarkable strength of character through multiple trials.”
The conversation shifted then, becoming lighter. Ladies began asking Sophia about Montrose Manor, about Amelia’s education, about her plans for the Season.
“You’ll face more scrutiny in the coming weeks,” the Duchess of Devonshire said, not unkindly. “The best approach is to be visible but unflappable. Attend events. Be gracious. Let your character speak for itself.”
“And don’t respond to every whisper,” Mrs. Hartford added, her tone now friendly. “Dignity is its own defense. The more you ignore the gossip, the less power it has.”
“Focus on genuine connections,” Lady Westbrook suggested. “Not every social call or dinner needs to be strategic. Find the people and causes that genuinely interest you. Society respects authenticity.”
“I’ve always found,” Lady Ridgeway said warmly, “that charitable work helps. Not as a performance, but because it gives you purpose beyond the drawing room battles. What interests you, Lady Montrose?”
“Education,” Sophia said without hesitation. “I’d like to find ways to support education for children who wouldn’t otherwise have access.”
“That’s wonderful,” Lady Westbrook said with genuine enthusiasm. “There are several charitable schools in London that would welcome your involvement.”
“I’d be happy to introduce you,” Lady Ridgeway offered. “Perhaps we could visit one together next week?”
“I would be delighted,” Sophia said.
By the time they prepared to leave, the atmosphere in the room had transformed completely. Ladies who’d arrived with polite skepticism were now extending invitations.
“You must come to my musical next Thursday,” Lady Pembridge said, embracing Sophia warmly. “And bring Lord Montrose. I’d like to meet him properly.”
“My husband and I are hosting a small dinner on Saturday,” the Duchess of Devonshire said. “Nothing grand, just twelve couples. We’d be honored if you and Lord Montrose would join us.”
Lady Westbrook took Sophia’s hand. “I’ll call on you next week at Thornbridge House, if that’s acceptable? I can tell you more about my work with the schools.”
“Of course,” Sophia said, feeling almost dizzy with relief. “I will look forward to it.”
Mrs. Hartford offered a small smile as she departed. “You handled yourself well today, Lady Montrose. I look forward to seeing you at the Devonshire dinner.”
In the carriage ride back to Thornbridge House, Charlotte sat back with a satisfied smile. “We were brilliant, if I do say so myself.”
“I do not know why, but it had not occurred to me they would ask Georgiana and me questions,” Rose said.
“You handled it perfectly,” Georgiana said.
“As did you,” Rose said. “When they brought up your work.”
“I, too, was not expecting that,” Georgiana said. “In hindsight, it was rather naive.”
“You all three did a great deal of good for your reputations today,” Charlotte said.
“Three invitations,” Rose said. “In one tea. That’s better than we hoped.”
“It’s a start,” Charlotte said. “By the end of the week, half of London will know you’re not the scheming governess Constance has painted you. They’ll see what we see—a woman of integrity, intelligence, and warmth.”
Sophia felt tears prick her eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I will be forever grateful.”
“We must champion one another,” Rose said. “Always.”
“Here, here,” Charlotte said.
“I cannot wait to tell Henry the good news,” Sophia said. “He will be proud of all four of us.”
“We shall have champagne tonight,” Charlotte said. “To celebrate our first victory.”
They all nodded, and then, perhaps tired from the ordeal, fell quiet. Sophia leaned her head against the side of the carriage and closed her eyes. The pit in her stomach had vanished. There was hope after all. Henry’s mother would not win.