“Oh, duchess, you did not in such terms…”
“No, not in those terms precisely, but he understood me all the same. He said you had already told him.”
“I did not exactly tell himthat,” Isabel said, “but I did make clear my priority was stability.”
“Never fear, Lady Isabel, he understood your meaning. And I hope he does not delude himself that I did not understand how he came to be in front of Rundell and Bridge yesterday. I mentioned I would go there. That stunt was entirely engineered and there goes my tiara.”
Isabel was not certain whether she was pleased or alarmed to know that Mr. Vance had not been outside the jewelers by happenstance.
The carriage had come to a stop and a footman opened the door. Isabel felt a flutter inside of her. She was very sorry to find that flutter was not caused by Lord Lymington, as it should be.
But could it be? If she tried? And perhaps remade his conversation?
Certainly, it was at least possible. She must believe it was possible.
*
Carlson sat atthe head of the servants’ table with his ale, ignoring the babble around him, which was as usual comprised of speculation and unfounded gossip. It had been a night of light work as the duchess and Lady Isabel had gone to a ball and the duke was off to his club. Though it had been light work, his thoughts weighed heavy upon him.
When the duchess had departed, the sky had been clear and the stars were out. That circumstance was rather different from the one he’d described to the duchess when she’d asked for a weather prediction earlier in the day.
He’d predicted avertical spout, the sort of rain that comes straight down and is not blown about by wind. After all, it was England and one ought to have a pretty good chance of being right if one predicted rain.
The confounded weather! It had defied him again.
Prior to the duchess setting off in the carriage, Carlson had been forced to explain that the change of weather had likely been caused by overpopulated streams and rivers that fed into the ocean. The masses of fish pushed the currents in the wrong direction, which changed the wind direction. The rain that should have been coming down in London was now battering the North Sea.
If only fishermen would try harder to keep the stocks under control, these things would not happen! He could not be blamed for the failures of fishermen!
He’d called this particular error a rarereverse windage.
Somehow, the duchess had seemed perfectly satisfied with the explanation. Though, he’d detected the smallest smile from Lady Isabel.
How long could he go on like this, the predictor of weather who was almost always wrong?
Further, it seemed that Betsy, Lady Isabel’s new maid, had a certain knack for predicting the weather just by looking out a window. How was she doing it?
“I’m telling you,” Fleur said to Mrs. Pennington, “the duchess has it all arranged. Miss Rightstone is to marry Mr. Vance and Lady Isabel is to marry Lord Lymington.”
“That may very well be,” Mrs. Pennington said with a sniff, “I only say that Mr. Vance and Lady Isabel would make a dashing couple.”
“Nobody can deny it,” Jeremy said. “Vance is a specimen of a man and Lymington is a lump.”
“The lumpiest,” Brian concurred.
“Lumpity-dump-dump,” the housekeeper said nodding.
“But he is to be a duke,” Fleur said. “Aduke, you realize.”
“I realize it, but he’s still a lump,” Jeremy said, his features settling into obstinacy.
Carlson was certain he ought to step in and stop the conversation at once. It was not at all suitable for the footmen, or the housekeeper for that matter, to speak so disparagingly about a gentleman who would attain the highest rank.
Lymington reallywasa lump, though.
Chapter Eight
Harry had dulyarrived to the Remblys’ and, as promised, put himself down for Miss Rightstone’s supper. Now that he understood that the duchess had encouraged Miss Rightstone and her mother to think of him as a future husband, he was determined to make himself clear to the lady.
