But certainly, she could not have formed an unfavorable opinion from only the very short introduction of last evening?
“I am not blinded, as some mothers are,” the lady went on, “as to the qualities or lack thereof my eldest son may possess. He’s a bit of an idiot, as you could not have failed to notice unless you are an idiot too. In which case, I would fear for the state of any children you might produce. Presuming you are not an idiot, I must surmise that your motivation in this proposed match is to become a duchess. Have I read the situation correctly?”
Isabel was at once frightened and insulted. What a speech!
Blessedly, Carlson came in with the lady’s breakfast tray and the duchess fell silent, giving Isabel time to think.
She could not deny that Lord Lymington was not exactly an incisive mind. Though, he had other good qualities. She also could not deny that she was motivated by his title and all the protection it would provide.
But such things were not spoken of! At least, not as the duchess had spoken of them.
Carlson retreated and shut the door behind him.
The duchess spread a thick layer of marmalade on a piece of toast and said, “Do not be bashful, Lady Isabel, just lay out the facts as they are.”
There was nothing for it. Shewouldlay out the facts. They were the facts she should have already laid out to Lord Lymington himself.
“Ma’am,” she said, “you have been so kind as to dispense with any roundabout conversations, so I will attempt to be as direct as you have been. My father, primarily through his own mismanagement, has not two farthings to rub together. It has always been so. Now his estate is mortgaged. I have lived on the edge of catastrophe my entire life. You are correct, I do seek a position like the one Lord Lymington can provide, though it is not through any desire for the social powers of rank. I would not care if he were a baronet, as long as there had been long-term stability to show and vast connections to call upon. I wish to ensure my future and never live with the fear of poverty again.”
The duchess looked at her critically. “You know he only talks about horses? Oh, he wrote to me about some strange thing regarding whales and weather, I cannot say what that is about, but his mind is always on horses.”
“I did notice that,” Isabel said.
“Very well,” the duchess said. “I see no impediment, as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into. My advice—when you tire of hearing about horses, just tell him to shut up. It’s effective, I’ve used it on my duke for years.”
Isabel felt her cheeks burn. The lady’s words might be flaming torches thrown in her face. Her skin was on fire, though it was not from embarrassment. It was from shame.
Is this what marriage to Lord Lymington was to look like? When she tired of his conversation she must only tell him to shut up?
She could not imagine such a thing. But then, where hadthisduchess started? Had she come into the marriage with the same ideas Isabel had and then found the years wearing down any civility she might have brought with her?
If she were to go forward, might she turn into a woman like this?
She could not bear to think of it.
“I have wondered,” Isabel said slowly, “how I might express the nature of my interest to Lord Lymington. It has not seemed possible while he has not declared himself, though it seems too late if he does and then I explain it.”
“Goodness, he’s notthatmuch of an idiot,” the duchess said. “He will not imagine you’ve fallen in love with him.”
“As to that,” Isabel said, pressing on, “I believe there is a lady who has. Though I do not think Lord Lymington has perceived it. I wonder—”
“A lady in love with Percy,” the duchess said with a chuckle. “What an idea.”
*
Harry had goneto Lord Bertridge’s estate in the afternoon, leaving the earl to contemplate his new circumstances on his own. One could only take so manyWhat? Who? Here? Why?conversations. He had not got very far with attempting to pull words out of the earl’s head. What went on in there, he was almost afraid to imagine.
Though the invitation to tea had been welcome, he was surprised by it. Lady Bertridge appeared as if she would burst and certainly her child would arrive any day. Or any hour, really.
He found her in good spirits though, and he found Lady Easton in her usual spirits. Which were always somewhat less good.
They were around a tea tray in the drawing room, discussing the progress on the estate, when Lady Bertridge suddenly said, “Mr. Vance, I find I must inform you of something. I maintain a regular correspondence with the other ladies that have been assisted by Lady Easton’s society.”
“Of course she would,” Lady Easton said. “They are all very grateful for the help we have provided. Though, do not let the duchess hear you call itmysociety. It would set her hair on fire.”
“Lady Langley, as you may know, is just now in London,” Lady Bertridge went on. “She has written me that Lord Lymington’s parents are in Town.”
Harry set down his cup. Was he too late? Had Lymington proposed and been accepted?
