Matthew shrugged. “She dined with a duke. Conbatten is his name. Apparently, he is the epitome of sophistication and nobody is to match him. I shouldn’t wonder if she were not building her fantasies of true love around that fellow this morning.”
“Conbatten,” Marcus said with a rueful smile. “Do you know he keeps several thermometers by his tub so it is ensured that the water is ninety-eight degrees?”
“I do know it,” Matthew said. “The question is, how doyouknow it?”
“We valets talk from time to time,” Marcus said. “Now, I suppose when you have done with your tray, you will like your own bath. In honor of the mighty Conbatten, I shall aim for ninety-eight degrees, though with no thermometer it’s always a roll of the dice. Then, you’d better start answering all those invitations.”
*
The breakfast roomat Westmont House was lively indeed. Beatrice had been to a ball and she had four sisters who must hear of every moment of it.
“And so you did list all your requirements for the duke?” Viola said.
“I did,” Beatrice said. “I really felt I must when he hinted that my list must only be money and title.”
“Where do young men get such dry ideas?” Miss Mayton said, buttering yet another piece of toast.
“What did he say when he heard how honorable and good your requirements are?” Juliet said.
Beatrice shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “It appears he has not a romantic bone in his body, sadly. He said I should only concern myself with how a man treats his estate and his relatives. I am sure I expect my true love to do such very well, but that cannot be the end of it.”
“Certainly not,” Rosalind said. “Without the passion and romance, a well-run estate is not worth having.”
“Well,” Cordelia said, “the duke did not make you feel as if your hair had been struck by lightning and so that is that.”
“A shame though,” Rosalind said. “What a name he has. Conbatten. Your Grace, the Duchess of Conbatten, it sounds very good indeed.”
“I suppose Van Doren was grimacing from every corner, as he always does,” Juliet said.
Beatrice found herself rather flushed over the statement, as that had not been at all what Van Doren had been doing.
“Actually,” she said, “he was on his best behavior. It seems he is only a frowning scolder withus. With other ladies he works to make himself pleasant and he danced all evening.”
“Pleasant?” Juliet said, as if she could not comprehend such a notion.
“As well,” Beatrice said, forging on, “he claimed he is done scolding and lecturing me. He called meLadyBeatrice and said I am old enough to be mistress of my own judgements.”
This seemed to rather bowl over her sisters. Nobody had imagined that Van Doren’s scolding would ever come to an end. Cordelia had once said that he’d be eighty and no longer able to ride to the house and would just shout from his window.
“He never did say the scolding was over,” Viola said.
“He did,” Beatrice said.
“Let us see, though,” Cordelia said, “if he can keep to that vow. I think he’ll have a terrible time sticking to it.”
Beatrice was not so certain. “It may be that his attention will be pulled elsewhere. A certain Lady Clara seemed to take an interest in him.”
“Is she mad?” Rosalind asked.
“Or hideous?” Juliet said.
“Or perhaps she is poor and getting very old and has developed the rheumatism,” Viola added. “It is either Van Doren or wandering the streets aimlessly, hoping she isn’t forced to become an aging governess for a pile of unruly children.”
“She is none of those things,” Beatrice said. “She is near my own age, is very pretty, and her father is a marquess. Darden says she comes with twenty thousand.”
These facts struck all of the sisters very hard. That this lady who had nothing running against her might be interested in Van Doren upended everything they knew about him.
“It is as if the world has been turned on its head,” Cordelia said.
