A duchess. It was true, Lady Rosalind would soon be a duchess.
Tattleton considered that. In truth, he wondered why, in all the things he had considered this morning, that had not been one of them.
It really was something to consider.
When he had occasion to speak to another butler or perhaps a high-placed valet or steward even, was there not mention of the respective families? Of course there was. A senior servant was very much judged by the rank of the family he served.
Might it not be pleasant to have a duchess to speak of?
Tattleton imagined the sort of conversation he might have. “Yes, you see, Mr. Roberts, we are often entertaining the Duke and Duchess of Conbatten. The duchess is the earl’s daughter and I have known her since she was a babe.”
Indeed. That would be very pleasant.
“You do look cheered by the idea, Mr. Tattleton. I’ll find Charlie and we’ll set you up with a cup of tea.”
Tattleton nodded. Yes, he would have tea and he would forget about anything he’d seen this season that might have disturbed his mind. He would fill his thoughts with Her Grace, the Duchess of Conbatten, and how he’d known her since she was a babe.
What else could he do, really?
*
Balthazar had concludedall the business that must be done with alacrity.
There had been Shrimps to interview, as Van Doren had brought him to the house first thing. After seeing the documents, Balthazar had no doubt that he was just now in receipt of Henry Conroy, Baron Dedmont.
As he would personally escort the young baron to Kent before the wedding, and as he intended the wedding to come off at the earliest possible moment, he had directed Henri to contact Ribaldi and have suitable clothes made in all haste.
He had since installed the boy in a bedchamber and instructed the staff that he was to be addressed as a lord, no matter how uncomfortable the boy was with the idea.
Henri had not been all that opposed to the arrival of a boy, especially as he would not be staying. But, as was to be expected, he’d been irate about the dog that had come with him. Surprisingly, since this young baron seemed in all other ways shy, he’d defended his dog with determination. Oyster was to stay and that was that.
Balthazar then set off to White’s and met with his future father-in-law. It had been a most pleasant meeting, as the earl was an easy-going sort of fellow and Balthazar himself was inclined to be generous.
Lady Rosalind’s dowry income was to be for her sole use and the whole of it passed on equally to her daughters. Her pin money was not to be regulated at all—she might spend what she liked. A property in Hertfordshire that he’d bought the year before was to be given over to her, with all the rents and income for her sole use. That estate would take the place of the dower house, should he predecease her and should she wish it. Generous dowries were arranged for any daughter, and the settlements on younger sons would ensure that they would live most comfortably as gentlemen.
The earl, after hearing all these terms, had said, “Well, I had always thought I’d have to haggle on behalf of my daughters, but so far that has not been the case! I am glad of it, as I do not think I am a very great haggler.”
They’d then had a comfortable cup of coffee. The solicitors could work out the rest of what was to be done.
Balthazar had mentioned the idea of taking Lady Rosalind out in his phaeton. After all, they were engaged and nothing untoward could possibly occur in an open vehicle in view of so many other people in the park.
The earl saw no cause against it, as he knew his daughter to be such a sensible young lady.
Balthazar had found himself using all his self-control to stop from laughing. Sensible, indeed.
Now, he’d made his way to Portland Place, having sent a note ahead requesting Lady Rosalind’s presence in his chaise.
He hopped down and handed the reins to a footman hurrying toward him. Before he could approach the door, Lady Rosalind flew out of it ahead of the butler.
“Conbatten!” she said.
He smiled at her. Then he smiled more to see her sisters and the deranged Miss Mayton waving from windows.
“Come, my little minx, let’s get you into my carriage.”
He picked her up and settled her, under the rather disapproving stare of the butler and rather approving stares of her sisters and Miss Mayton.
He urged the horses forward and they were off. As they trotted down the road and headed toward the park, he said, “I’ve settled with your father. It was all speedily agreed on.”
