“Is she pretty?” Lady Margaret asked.
“Lady Grace? Yes, she is very pretty.”
“Tell me.”
“Oh, well, let’s see,” Miles said, feeling very put on the spot. “She’s got blond hair, but not too blond. Not insipid, I would say. She has an abundance of curls.”
“That will look very nice when she unpins it.”
Miles certainly hoped he did not redden over that idea.
“Eyes?” Lady Margaret asked. “Blue, I suppose.”
“Actually no, they are more an olive color. Which I think lends some sophistication to her coloring.”
“Excellent. Good teeth?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Temperament? Is she pleasant?”
“Very pleasant.”
“I am satisfied with what I’ve heard so far.”
Miles sat back. He did not quite know how it was happening, but it almost felt as if Lady Margaret had stepped in for his mother, taking on the duty of examining any ladies in his view.
The carriage slowed to a stop and a groom hopped down and opened the door. As Miles had found the only way to get Lady Margaret into a carriage was to pick her up and put her in it, he repeated the operation to get her out of it. Then he fetched her cane and the clothes that were to be returned to the duke.
“Let’s see what we’ve got to work with,” Lady Margaret said, hobbling toward the door.
Chapter Eight
“HE’S COME!”PATIENCEsaid, from her post at the window.
“Who has come?” Grace asked, knowing very well who. She had refused to go out anywhere during the day in case he would come. They’d all endlessly speculated on whether he would come and when he would come.
Valor patted her hand. “I think it must be Lord Dashlend, Grace. Remember? We’ve talked and talked about him coming.”
“He’s brought an older lady,” Patience said.
“His mother?” Grace said, her voice an octave higher than it usually was.
“I think it must be a grandmother.”
A grandmother! Her own grandmother that yet lived, her mother’s mother, resided in Devon and they never saw her as she and the duke did not get on. Lady Neville always sent each girl a Christmas gift and year after year it was something not very exciting, like embroidered handkerchiefs. The gift was always accompanied by a letter outlining their Christian duties.
If anyone in the room was half as nervous over the idea of meeting Lord Dashlend’s grandmother as Grace was, it must be Nelson. The dear little dog was very astute at understanding the feelings of the family and when the temperature rose, he raced to meet it. Just now, he was traveling in circles.
“Serenity, do calm poor Nelson,” Grace said, attempting to keep her voice steady.
Serenity swept Nelson into her arms and his little tail beat against her muslin in wild appreciation.
Thomas opened the drawing room doors. “Lord Dashlend and Lady Margaret Hawley,” he said gravely.
Valor nodded at Thomas to tell him it was very well done.
The rest of them rose and approached. Grace curtsied and said, “Lord Dashlend, Lady Margaret. Do come in.”
