“Not at all,” Harry said, jumping out of bed to pick up the girl’s dropped tray and the letters that had been upon it. “She will say nothing of it as she will not wish to be scolded over it.”
“That poor girl,” Isabel said. Privately, she thought it was rather fortunate that Harry had been beneath blankets when the maid had come in, as he did not have a stitch on. He usually did not when they were alone.
As she was admiring his person, Harry handed her a letter and Isabel saw at once it was from Lady Bertridge.
“Ah,” she said, “perhaps Caroline feels up for visitors by now. I have been waiting for her to signal, though Lady Easton has barred the door like a tiger to guard against anybody bringing disease into the house.” She tore open the letter and read it with some amusement, as it was not at all what she had expected.
My dear Isabel—
You will no doubt hear from the duchess shortly about this plan that is in the works. The Society of Sponsoring Ladies intends to gather together all of their projects and their associated husbands so they may revel in their successes. As I have so recently given birth, Lady Easton has decided I must not travel and so the party comes to me. (She intends on quarantining the baby with the nanny and nursemaids while the house has visitors.)
The ladies intend that everybody is to come on the 16th.
By the by, Caro does very well and has her papa at her beck and call. Nanny is forever chasing him out of the nursery. I am delighted to have visitors and introduce you to this little lady, if you dare to call and brave Lady Easton’s pointed stares.
Caroline Camden
“Goodness,” Isabel said, handing Harry the letter.
“Oh dear,” he said, “a gathering of self-congratulations. The poor duchess will have to face down your rather less than lofty choice.”
“She is quite resigned that I did not marry Lord Lymington. She says she did not care for his mother one bit and would not have liked to see me having to manage such a creature.”
“Ah, the duchess. All her opinions come out right, in the end.”
*
The 16thcameon time and the ladies of the society descended upon Lord Bertridge’s estate. Harry was only thankful that it was Bertridge’s estate and not Somerdon House. He did not have anything against any of those ladies, not even the duchess. Though, when they came together they were rather like a wildly eccentric and unpredictable herd, zigging and zagging their way through society. Once all six ladies were in the same room, the safest course was to exit that room without a look back.
In the great hall leading to Bertridge’s drawing room, Harry took Isabel’s arm and whispered, “Unto the breach, my love.”
His very clever wife instantly noted the reference to Henry V and finished off the speech—“The game’s afoot: follow your spirit and upon this charge cry God for Harry, England and Saint George.”
“Or just cry,” Harry said, laughing.
They entered the drawing room, both of them laughing, as they so often were.
What a sight was before them. The ladies of the society were round a table, the duchess pouring tea and looking for all the world the queen of the group in a stiff gold brocade. It was not even her house, but he supposed that would not have occurred to her.
Scattered about the room, Harry saw them all. There was Gresham with his lady, née Miss Grace Yardley. Then Ryland with his bride, who had been known as Lady Prudence Landry. Langley and Blackwood stood together with their wives, previously Miss Georgiana Wilcox and Lady Arabella Beresford. And then Bertridge, of course, who’d married Miss Caroline Upton. He’d watched all these couples from afar, season by season.
The gentlemen had all wed exceedingly pretty and genial ladies. Of course, none of them was quite as lovely or wonderful as Isabel. None of them could compare to the woman who would become Lady Leighton in the fullness of time.
Harry Vance had waited out the seasons and he had been rewarded with the grandest prize.
Bertridge’s butler brought round a tray with small glasses of sherry. He and Isabel both took a glass, and he suspected they would need them. There was nothing so draining as a group of matrons set on congratulating themselves.
The duchess dinged her spoon on the side of her teacup. Silencing the room, she said, “Now that we are all here, words must be spoken.”
Harry had been afraid that words would be spoken. He assumed there were to be a lot of them. At such a moment, he found he almost missed the earl’s more economical way of speaking. Harry would do very well with it if the duchess just said what she meant—“Right, always. Noble, don’t you know.Me.”
The lady rose and said, “More than five years ago, we six aristocratic ladies of the realm came together and committed ourselves to a noble cause. We were certain of our purpose, and we have succeeded. Naturally, there were some…bumps on the road. But we persevered in our noble effort. What noble cause does not have…bumps?”
Harry noted several amused glances between husbands and wives. Lady Bertridge appeared near ready to burst. There were more nobles in her speech than there were wandering round Buckingham Palace.
“We ladies felt it incumbent upon us to reflect on the noble journeys we have taken and so I will begin. As we are among friends, I need not prevaricate on what my wishes had been for my dear Isabel. However, I changed my wishes after meeting the Duchess of Hastings. Really, she is a most opinionated woman, I donotrecommend her. I now believe that I was right to change my wishes, as Isabel’s children will be so far removed from trade as to make the whole problem go away. In the end, my sponsorship of Lady Isabel cannot be viewed as anything less than a rousing success.”
Harry had his lips pressed tightly together lest he fall over in laughter. He did not dare even glance at his wife, as that would have been sure to send her into her own peals of merriment. It was so like the duchess to claim that she’d been right all along, while still managing to mention that his grandfather had been in trade.
