The Duke Dilemma (4 page)

“Of course your son’s choice of bride is very important to you.” Sturgis stood and plucked at the Duke’s cravat, straightening the small imperfections.

“I hadn’t thought so, but his marriage does ensure the line of succession. We shall see what comes of our efforts.” Edward need not have checked the full-length pier glass. He knew Sturgis would not have allowed him to step out of his bedchamber unless he appeared “well turned out befitting his station.” “I thank you, Sturgis. Today may be the start of a whirlwind of social engagements. For the present I am off to Parliament.”

The afternoon was still early when the coach had passed the last tollbooth into London. Dowager Baroness Louise Vernon had not stayed in Somerset long. Louise had thought they would remain until September with her elder sister, Elizabeth, and her husband, Sir Giles Pitney.

Louise could not say when the notion first struck her that there was something quite peculiar about the weather this year. When spring had turned to summer, the days did not warm as they normally did. When June arrived, Sir Giles began to complain of his rheumatism almost as if the cold months of winter had never ended. The Baronet decided he needed to remove to Bath and take the waters for the remainder of the summer or until his health improved.

It had taken Elizabeth years to convince her younger, widowed sister to visit her in Somerset. What finally persuaded Louise to accept the invitation were the estate gardens. To spend months with her sister at Pitney Park was more than acceptable, especially if she were to remain outdoors. There was nothing better than tending a garden filled with blooms for hours on end. The rewards were endless: lovely trailing vines, glorious flowers in various colors, and wonderful scents that perfumed the air.
Although her own garden was confined to a small courtyard, she adored every inch that lay behind her London townhouse.

When her brother-in-law, Sir Giles, made his pronouncement to leave the chill of Somerset, Louise did not care to take the additional fifty-mile trek to Bath. She decided she might as well be in London. So back to Town she went.

It was nearly another hour before the coach containing Lady Vernon and her lady’s maid, Miss Rebecca Blake, finally rounded the corner, rolling past the narrow, ivy-covered iron gate garden entrance to Louise’s home.

“We are nearly home, my lady.” Rebecca moved from the window, mirroring the relief Louise felt at the approach of their travel’s end.

The coach came to a stop. Louise could see the front of her townhouse. It was all she could do not to push her way out of the confines of the interior toward the freedom of the street. The footman who sat next to the driver climbed down from the box, headed up the walkway to the front door, and in the absence of the knocker, pounded on the door with his fist. In the many seconds he stood waiting, it was clear there would be no answer.

“We did not completely close up the house, did we, Becca? However, it appears no one remains.” Louise had not thought of this outcome. The drapes were drawn, but the shutters stood open giving every indication someone might still reside within. “What can we do?”

“I cannot say, ma’am.” Rebecca moved away from the window. Her expression brightened as if she’d suddenly remembered something. Moving her reticule aside, the lady’s maid pulled her small bag closer, unfastened the clasp, and reached inside. After digging around for some moments, her arm finally stilled and she produced a key from her bag.

“Bless you for your foresight to have such a thing in your possession, Becca.” Louise had the silly notion that if she couldn’t enter her house she would have to turn around and travel to Bath to rejoin her sister.

“Allow us to disembark, if you please,” Rebecca asked the footman on his way back to the coach. “If you would please use this.” She handed the key to the footman and turned toward her mistress, appearing to share Louise’s eagerness to enter their home.

Louise stepped down and followed the footman up the walk to the front door with Rebecca in her wake. The footman turned the key, opened the door, stepped inside, and held the front door open wide for the ladies.

Rebecca moved down the entrance hall to the small but finely appointed foyer. “It is so very good to be home!” The lady’s maid, it seemed, could not contain her delight. She stripped off her gloves and turned to the footman. “Bring in the luggage, if you please.”

Louise strolled to the dining room and pulled the heavy drapes open, allowing enough light in for her to see the holland covers over the table and sideboard. She continued to the rear parlor and drew the drapes aside. Sheets of white cotton concealed the two rose-and-yellow-striped sofas and the numerous tables and chairs occupying the room. Her small sitting area must be similarly shrouded. She and Rebecca would need to manage by themselves until the staff returned. Exactly how that would be done, she wasn’t entirely certain.

Rebecca appeared in the doorway then stepped inside. “The luggage is abovestairs and the coach is preparing to depart.”

“Please give this to the footman.” Louise pulled out the missive she’d penned that morning, thanking her sister for her hospitality and Sir Giles for providing private transportation and an outrider for the safe journey home. “Instruct him to deliver it to Sir Giles.”

“Yes, my lady.” Taking the correspondence, Rebecca retreated, leaving in the same direction from which she had entered.

A moment later, a small voice came from the dining room, “Goodness, I thought I was hearing voices.”

Louise turned toward the newcomer, who instantly recognized the mistress of the house.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I beg your pardon.” She bobbed a curtsy and blushed, pulling the apron she’d clutched in her fist to hide her face.

“Betty!” Louise recognized the downstairs maid. “Are you the only staff member in the house?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Dora, the second kitchen maid, she’s in the scullery putting the pots and pans to rights, I ’spect.” Betty glanced about, clearly nervous conversing with the lady of the house. She stared at the crumple of apron in her hands, leaving the top of her mobcap all that was visible.

“I can send a lad to fetch Mr. Baines. He gave me an address, just in case there was some emergency.”

“There is no need to disrupt his holiday. I am here with Miss Blake, and I’m sure we ladies can manage just fine.” Louise did not wish to deny her butler his well-deserved holiday. She was sure the staff looked forward to some time off. “How is it you remain behind?”

“Dora ’n me don’t have nowheres to go.” Betty shrugged and Louise finally saw the housemaid’s round face and her wide-open eyes. “Besides, someone’s got to look after the house whiles you’re away and care for your flowers too. Although there ain’t any to speaks of.”

“That’s very strange.” It was odd that her flowers were not in bloom.

“Yes, ma’am, it is.” Betty’s voice sounded softer than before. “I’m afraid I must ’ave done somethin’ wrong…”

“Oh, no, that’s nonsense.”

“But it’s me who’s carin’ for your garden.” The maid’s voice grew fretful. “There’s usually blooms aplenty, ’specially this time o’ year. It must be my doing.”

“Please, Betty, do not blame yourself. There is something amiss with the weather.” Louise stared out the window, noting the gray outside did not hint that it might lighten. She suspected London had cooler than normal temperatures for the very reason Somerset, and Sir Giles, suffered. “However, if you have a trick to coax the sun to shine down upon us, I suggest you try it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Betty giggled.

“Now what do you suggest we do to get started?” Louise unfastened her bonnet and lifted it from her head.

“I’ll have hot tea and somethin’ ta eat sent in, at once. Travelin’ can take the best out of anyone.”

“That would be splendid, Betty, but I hate to be a burden to Dora.”

“No bother at all. It’ll only be a few minutes, I daresay.” Betty’s hold on her apron had gone and her posture straightened as she spoke. “We be running out to do a bit o’ shopping this afternoon. Dora’ll need to prepare supper for your ladyship and Miss Blake, and I’ll need to see that your bedchambers are aired out as well.”

“Yes, of course.” Louise set her bonnet on the back of a covered chair, allowing it to balance. “I think we should open this back parlor, and we can have all our meals in the breakfast room.” There was no need to bother with the dining room or her small sitting room at this time. Louise was not exactly a recluse, but she kept to herself for the most part. She did not venture out much and expected no callers.

“Good ’nuff, milady.”

“Is there something Miss Blake or I can do to help?” It hardly seemed fair that this young maid and one kitchen servant should do the tasks of many.

Betty’s eyes widened. “It’s not your place. Me and Dora can manage o’ right, we can. Don’t cha worry none about that.”

“Very well, I shall leave the arrangements up to you. I have no right to expect you to carry the weight of running the household on your shoulders alone. If there is anything you need, I expect you to ask for help.”

“Yes, ma’am, I shall.” Betty bobbed a curtsy and went on her way.

Louise moved to the back of the house, toward her garden. She opened the French doors and stepped onto the terrace. While strolling down the far path, she unfastened the front of her traveling cloak.

Instead of the welcome sight of flowering plants, new buds, and the bright green foliage of new spring growth, it was far from looking its best. Spindly stalks and wilted leaves covered the numerous pots and planters of Louise’s well-loved garden. She could pull some weeds, replant those plants that needed larger containers, and fertilize the plants. Somehow Louise had the feeling that it would take more than any mere human could do to heal her ailing garden.

There was not even an opportunity for Edward to get comfortable in his seat. Not ten minutes had passed after he entered his box that night at King’s Theatre when the intermission descended upon them and the lights came up.

“I cannot believe our frightful timing,” he groused.

“You have the wrong of it there, dear Pater. We have
impeccable
timing,” Frederick returned. “Just in time to stroll down to the green room and mingle with the other guests.” He leaned forward in his chair, gazing over the edge of the box down to the guests filing out below. “We best wait a bit longer. It doesn’t do any good to arrive too early.”

“Making
another
entrance?” Edward equated tardiness to rudeness. They had arrived in the Park fashionably late to
make an entrance
, to the theater to
make an entrance
, and now the green room. What purpose did this serve?

“After this afternoon’s dismal display in the Park, I believe we must make an effort to recall those acquaintances that we previously ignored,” Frederick said, finally rising in preparation to depart. “It is usually the ladies who have the most miraculous memories for such things. In lieu of the fairer sex, we must rely upon ourselves.”

“I have never ignored any acquaintances,” Edward said. How could one make the effort of an acquaintance only to ignore the introduction?

“Oh, perhaps that was only me, then.” Frederick brushed away any wrinkles that might have appeared on his sleeves. “I regret that I took a less than serious view of such formalities. I suppose I should learn something from that.”

“It would be wise if you did.” The Duke stared up at his son, knowing he must stand and accompany him.

“Shall we move on to the green room and renew our acquaintances with other members of the
ton
?”

Such trials and tribulations, the planning that seemed to be going on in his son’s addlepated head, was inconceivable to Edward. Had he met his Sarah over twenty years ago merely by chance or was it fate? There were no lengthy measures or plots incorporated for them to make a successful match. None that he had discovered, at any rate.

The green room overflowed with people standing in the corridor by the time he and Frederick arrived. The guests made an effort to move aside, and a small opening appeared before them. They shouldered their way through the throng. On the far side of the room were Frederick’s friends, Lord Anthony Shelbridge and Mr. Thomas Norton. Edward wondered why his son had chosen not to keep their company but his father’s. His son acknowledged them with a nod of his head yet kept by the Duke’s side.