Chapter Four
Surprisingly, Imelda had embraced Miss Whitchurch’s suggestions, mainly because Lord Dickerson had unexpectedly returned home during Freya’s and Miss Whitchurch’s visit.
His Lordship had listened studiously to Miss Whitchurch’s suggestions and had encouraged his new wife to err on the side of the “less showy” displays.
“I wish the house to speak to classic lines, ones in which a person would never find himself out of step.”
“But mother…” Imelda had begun.
“Tell Lady Cunningham I have expressed my opinions,” Dickerson had said with the authority of a man of his lineage. “I prefer a more structured and classic style.”
“Of course, my dear,” Imelda had said dutifully. Freya did not know who was duller—her sister or Dickerson. At least Miss Whitchurch’s advice would be accepted and Freya might claim another friend from Lord Graham’s family.
Imelda made an appointment to accompany Miss Whitchurch to Mr. Sustar’s shop, but that would be after Freya’s sister had Sustar send out a clerk to take appropriate measurements for table covers, drapes, and panels for the music rooms to enhance the sound.
That particular room was one of Lord Dickerson’s favorites.
Afterwards, Miss Whitchurch had seen Freya back to Cunning Hall.
“Freya! Is that you?” her father had called from his study, once she was admitted into the house.
She would have preferred to avoid him, but Freya put a smile on her lips and stepped through the open door. “Yes, my lord.”
“Your mother said you were assisting Imelda with refurbishing Dickerson’s London home,” her father said with a lift of his brows in curiosity.
“I was, sir. Even Lord Dickerson was available to add his opinions. Now that the viscount has addressed his preferences, Imelda feels more confident in how to proceed.”
“I am glad you were of service to Imelda,” her father declared. “Your experience will serve you well when you marry Sir Patrick. Hodge’s home will require a lighter hand than the late Lady Hodge practiced.”
And I will require a man that, at least, interests me, Freya thought.
A woman has few choices when it comes to marriage; a man who respects her and treats her well should be her choice.
Freya had viewed two of the women Lord Duncan’s so-called sons had chosen.
She sincerely thought that she and Lord Graham could find matrimonial congress, and she meant to discover a means to convince the Scottish lord that she was the woman for him.
However, to her father, she said, “I hope to learn much of furnishing a home by assisting Imelda.”
“Excellent,” her father declared. “I am glad you mean to be a good and obedient wife for Sir Patrick.”
As she made to leave, her mind was designing a means to reacquaint herself with Lord Aaran Graham.
She now knew two of Lord Graham’s “sisters.” She had a connection, and Freya meant to exploit it.
She possessed only a few weeks to correct the future planned for her by her father.
She would be one and twenty before the planned marriage to Sir Patrick.
If worse arrived, she would deny the vows if she was compelled to be present at an actual ceremony.
Her father would disown her, perhaps even beat her, but Freya was determined to have a say in her marriage.
Even if Lord Graham did not love her, he would treat her kindly, and she would want for nothing except her own family.
Such would be a high price to pay, but not as high as what both her mother and her sister had already paid.
“Good day, my lord,” Aaran’s butler said as his man opened the door just as Aaran reached it. “Good to have you home, sir. I pray all went well in Scotland.”
“Fair,” Aaran repeated as he handed off his hat and gloves to Mr. Carbun.
“Lords Duncan, Beaufort, Marksman, and Orson joined me for the trials in Yorkshire. I spent much of Christmastide with Duncan and Lord and Lady Marksman. Lord and Lady Beaufort spent Christmastide with Duncan, but they visited with the Smithfields, Lady Beaufort’s and Marksman’s maternal relations, on Boxing Day. ”
“It sounds as if you had plenty of company,” Carbun remarked as he sent waiting footmen to fetch Aaran’s trunks.
Aaran did not remark, though he knew a man could be alone even if he were surrounded by thousands. “Have we heard from Lord Thompson? I am eager to be of service to him and Miss Whitchurch.”
“There is a message on your desk. It arrived yesterday. I told Lord Thompson’s man we did not expect you until today.”
“Though I am a bit exhausted, I mean to make an appearance in Parliament this evening. I will speak to Thompson then. I do not intend to take in the entertainments afterwards. I desperately require a full night’s sleep.”
“I will inform Mr. Simmons of your wishes, my lord. Should I order a bath?”
“Give me time to have a look at the messages and letters on my desk and then tell Mr. Simmons to order the bath.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Aaran picked his way to his study. There were numerous pieces of correspondence stacked upon his desk, but he reached for the one from Thompson first. With a sigh of relief, he sat in his favorite chair and stretched out his legs as he leaned back into the cushions.
He broke the seal with his finger and tossed the bits of broken wax onto a wooden tray he often used specifically for that purpose. He unfolded the paper to read…
Graham,
I hope this finds you well. I have been reading about what all you, Duncan, our brothers, as well as those from the Home Office, accomplished in the days leading up to and including the Yorkshire trials for the Luddites. I was sorry for being absent.
Aaran chuckled. “I guarantee Benjamin enjoyed his time with Miss Whitchurch and the boy more than he would in joining us in the mania that was Yorkshire.”
I wanted to speak to an incident Victoria reported to me.
Aaran shifted his weight in the chair and sat straighter.
A bit over a week ago, Victoria received a call while I was out for the day. The visitor was Lady Cunningham and her youngest daughter.
Aaran’s breath caught in his throat, and he reached to adjust his privates as an image of Lady Freya Cunningham formed before his eyes.
Like it or not, and Aaran assuredly was not pleased with the wayward thoughts that often caught him unaware, his mind was often fixed on the lady.
“Not for you,” he dutifully murmured in chastisement as he closed his eyes to relive those few memories from Scotland before he resettled on the rest of the letter.
You might imagine my surprise with the idea of Lady Cunningham calling upon my house, or any house, for that matter, in Cheapside, but Mr. Sustar had sent Her Ladyship to speak to Victoria regarding redecorating Lord Dickerson’s home.
While that is not the purpose of this letter, I thought it might be of interest to you to know the context of the situation.
Accompanying her mother that day was Cunningham’s younger daughter, Lady Freya, who reported to Victoria that she was with her father when you and Beaufort assisted with a broken axel on Cunningham’s traveling coach.
I am assuming that was when Beaufort and Lady Annalise traveled to Scotland to marry.
Lady Freya has called upon Lady Annalise twice in the last week and accompanied Victoria to Sustar’s shop to assist her sister Lady Dickerson with her choices of materials and so forth.
All three, meaning Lady Beaufort, Lady Freya, and my Victoria called upon Madame Emmeline’s shop together when Victoria went for the final fitting for her wedding dress.
From what I can tell, both Victoria and Lady Beaufort like the girl, but they also believe Lady Freya is “excessively interested” in you.
They are also aware that Cunningham is in negotiations with Sir Patrick Hodge for his youngest daughter’s hand in marriage.
We all think you should be made aware of this situation.
“I am aware that Cunningham would sell his daughter to a sultan rather than permit me to court her,” Arran said in bitterness.
I debated on sending you this, as I will likely see you shortly, but neither did I wish for you to call at Macalhey House and be surprised to discover Lady Freya enjoying Victoria’s company. Preparation is necessary in such situations. – BT
“I may learn more from both Beaufort and Thompson this evening at the Lords,” Aaran murmured as he reread parts of Thompson’s message. “Dare I?” he asked himself, knowing Cunningham would start another Celtic war if Aaran dared to seek out the girl. “Yet, I am tempted.”
Freya was exiting the park across from Madame Emmeline’s modiste shop when she noted Lady Annalise exiting the establishment, followed closely by one of the most beautiful women Freya had ever beheld, and, finally, by Miss Whitchurch.
“At last,” Freya whispered before darting into the street to make her way to where the three stopped outside the shop’s door to adjust bonnets and so forth.
The women were joyfully speaking over each other as Freya came to a halt before them.
“Good day, my lady. Miss Whitchurch,” she said.
“It is pleasant to encounter you again.”
Lady Annalise glanced to her friends before saying, “We have just been seeing to a few more necessities for Miss Whitchurch.” All three ladies giggled and Miss Whitchurch blushed, so Freya assumed they were items for the woman’s wedding night.
Miss Whitchurch said with a teasing smile directed upon Lady Beaufort, “And clothes for you as well.”
Freya was not confident what all the giggles meant, but she was satisfied simply to encounter the ladies and hopefully learn more of Lord Graham’s whereabouts and plans.
“How delightful for both of you,” she replied as she eyed the third woman.
Surely this was another of Lord Graham’s sisters.
“May I beg the acquaintance of your friend?”