The duchess, presumably envisioning no easy method of ridding herself of Mr. Vance, tapped her crop and set Cleopatra on a walk to lead the way. Mr. Vance maneuvered his horse next to Isabel, while Lord Lymington remained on her right side.
“About our discussion of last evening, I do not believe I mentioned, Lady Isabel,” Mr. Vance said. “that even a lowly baron might put together a very generous jointure as a cushion against any disaster that might occur. It really does not have to be arrived at by considering a dowry, a gentleman is free to arrange the thing how he wishes. I can only say for myself that I would be inclined to settle at least five hundred a year. At least.”
Well, he had jumped right back into that conversation. And right in front of Lord Lymington, who appeared rather lost.
Isabel had not expected him to mention the matter again after she had made herself so clear.
As she had spent so much of her waking days thinking about the security of her future, she had of course thought deeply on the subject of jointures and settlements.
However, she also thought she understood their limits. To account for a lifetime of a decent house, servants, necessities, a carriage, horses, stabling, and all the other things that might be unexpectedly required, a man would need to be rich as Croesus to create a settlement to meet those needs. Two thousand a year might do it, and yet so few gentlemen would consider such a sum, much less be able to provide it.
Especially when one considered that the jointure amount did not increase from year to year. As prices rose, the lady’s poverty would increase with it.
No, she had seen what really happened in such cases. The lady lived in reduced circumstances and was the pity of her neighbors. She would not starve and might even have the luxury of a cottage, but nobody would know what to do with her.
If she were given quarters in a relative’s house, she was invariably a burden. She was the odd number at a dinner. Or she found that a neighbor had issued an invitation to the family, quite forgetting she was in residence. Or somehow she found she was slowly drifting into being a servant—working as a companion or entertaining the children.
If the lady were lucky enough to live independently, she would not have the funds to maintain a carriage and horses. Her neighborhood would be left wondering if they ought to ask if she needed a ride to a dinner, or would that be embarrassing? If nobody enquired, did she have the means to hire a carriage? Or, would she just decline the invitation as the transport was beyond her means?
Isabel hadbeenthat person for the past year, as the carriage was in disrepair, the only horse they still had was her father’s, and her gig had been sold long ago.
She was not unaware of the irony of her bringing no dowry but what the duchess would provide, while at the same time having strict requirements as to the financial situation of her future. Ironic, perhaps, but true all the same.
Isabel had not answered Mr. Vance’s fanciful plans, but Lord Lymington did. “Areyouthe lowly baron, Vance? Are barons that low, though? I hadn’t known. I’m to be a duke.”
“Everybody knows you’re to be a duke,” Mr. Vance said.
“Do they? Yes, I suppose they would.”
“I only say, Lady Isabel, that for every problem there is a solution. If one wishes to find it.”
“Enterprising!” Lord Lymington exclaimed.
“Here we are at the gate,” the duchess called. “Good day, Lord Lymington. Mr. Vance.”
Isabel had no choice but to bid them goodbye as well and hurry to catch up to the duchess.
As she trotted forward, she heard Lord Lymington say, “Vance, about this solution that solves every problem. What is it?”
Mr. Vance had answered, “Ah, Lymington.”
As she and the duchess made their way back to Hanover Square, droplets of rain began to fall.
The duchess peered up at the sky and said, “Shame on those dolphins.”
*
Harry watched theduchess and Lady Isabel trot away while Lymington nattered on about something having to do with dolphins and the duchess’ butler.
Had he said enough? Had he convinced her? Or had he at least raised questions in her mind?
She could not still be considering Lymington. Could she?
“Anyway,” Lymington said, “Lady Isabel was very specific about my not talking about my horses anymore, so I suppose talking about the weather is as good as anything else.”
“Lady Isabel requested that?” Harry asked.
“Just last night,” Lymington said, nodding vigorously. “She’s the only lady who has told me what to do, so I expect I ought to follow it. Well, wait a minute, that’s not entirely true. Miss Rightstone told me to shut up once—gad, she drinks a lot. But Lady Isabel gave me ordersnicely.”
