“Mr. Why, is it? I might ask why myself,” the duke said, eyeing the butler.
“Sykes-Wycliff, Your Grace,” the butler said.
Felicity pressed her lips together to stop her laughter. Her aunt would know as well as she did that her father was in no confusion over the man’s name.
“I’ve told my sister a hundred times that Mrs. Right takes care of everything,” the duke said.
“Roland, do stop being ridiculous, a member of the nobility must have a butler and that is that.”
“Oh really? If I must have one, then where did that rascal Herring get off to? Just disappeared one day, didn’t he? Never to be seen or heard from again.”
Mr. Sykes-Wycliff appeared stricken to hear the name of Mr. Herring. Felicity wondered what Mrs. Right had told him about that nervous fellow’s final hours as the duke’s butler.
Lady Marshfield turned her gaze to Felicity. Then her gaze dropped and settled on her emerald necklace. “Do change that necklace, Felicity. It does not suit a young lady—it is too presumptuous. Choose a simple gold chain, or pearls if you must.”
“That necklace was given Felicity by me,” the duke said, “after her poor mother bid us her final adieu and made her way to the great beyond. I divided up all the jewelry between the girls.”
“That is all well and good, Roland, but a stone of that size is more suited to a married lady.”
“Ignore her,” the duke said to Felicity. “Your aunt would have liked to get her hands on every piece, but I gave her nothing! Not even that horrific enameled parrot brooch Valor insists on wearing all the time!”
The sound of the carriage rolling to a stop outside prompted Mr. Sykes-Wycliff to race to the doors and open them, likely in a bid to end his first interaction with his new employer.
“Never mind anything the duke says,” Lady Marchfield counseled Mr. Sykes-Wycliff, “simply carry on with your duties. According to your references, you are an exceedingly regular sort of person, which is precisely what this house needs.”
Her father appeared resigned that this new person was to be in the house for a little while at least. His parting advice was,“Follow Mrs. Right’s direction in everything—she knows the house and she knowsme.”
One would suppose that a recently arrived butler would be grateful to receive direction on how to proceed. If Felicity could read Mr. Sykes-Wycliff’s expression, though, she rather thought he was terrified of Mrs. Right.
So soon, too! She suspected that whatever was to go on between their dearest long-time housekeeper and this new butler, it would be vastly interesting.
Felicity hurried out to the carriage behind her aunt and her father. She had presumed Lady Marchfield would go in her own carriage, as she must have come in it, but the lady climbed into the duke’s carriage.
She supposed that meant there was to be a lecture on the way to Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic, rather than the jolly time she and her father might have had.
After they were all settled, the duke said to his sister, “Might I inquire why I find you in my carriage?”
“Lord Marchfield has gone on to his club. He deposited me here on his way,” Lady Marchfield said.
“Deposited you, has he?” the duke said. “No doubt he’s tried that gambit before—depositing you somewhere in the hopes that you can’t find your way back. He’ll be fingers crossed all night! Well, if he thinks he will pawn you off on me…”
Felicity covered her mouth to suppress a snort of laughter. One of her father’s favorite pastimes was to speculate on how much Lord Marchfield would like to be rid of Lady Marchfield. None of it was true, as far as she could see. Lord and Lady Marchfield seemed very cordial toward one another. Of course, what was true did not often trouble the duke.
Lady Marchfield sniffed and said, “I will not even dignify that diatribe with a response. I have other matters on my mind. Felicity, you presented yourself exceedingly odd at Almack’s.This evening will either cement that opinion of you or turn it on its head. You must be everything graceful and demure. Say nothing odd, do nothing odd. With any luck, it will be thought that whatever anybody believed they witnessed at Almack’s was just first-time out jitters.”
“Jitters?” the duke asked, his tone incredulous. “You want people to think that one ofmydaughters got the jitters?”
“Since when do you give a toss for anybody else’s opinion?” Lady Marchfield asked her brother.
“I am afraid my aunt has you boxed in there, Papa,” Felicity said, laughing.
“I’d box his ears if I could,” Lady Marchfield muttered.
“I heard that!” the duke shouted. “I’ve a mind to deposit you on the road, just like your beleaguered husband did. With any luck, you’ll wander into the Rats’ Castle and never be seen again. Find the Seven Dials and walk straight ahead! That’s my advice.”
Felicity thought she’d better turn her father’s and her aunt’s attention to another matter before they ended wrestling in the carriage. She would not like her dress to be rumpled in a fray.
“Aunt, you are to know I have a particular plan for this evening. I will make the Earl of Rustmont wild with envy, so he will be driven to claim me as his own.”
