He laughed at the unexpected description. She really had a particular wit about her.
After they were out of earshot of the duke and the dowager, he said, “I will apologize for my dowager’s various outrages, both now and in future.”
“Is she rather dependable on that front?”
“As regular as a well-maintained clock.”
“Some people find my father outrageous,” Lady Winsome said.
“Yes, I understand some do. Was your dinner at the inn with Lord Landry pleasant?” It was a stupid thing to ask, and apropos of nothing, but he really did wish to know it. Landry was a regular drooping daisy of a fellow, but there was no accounting for what a woman might approve of.
“Pleasant enough,” Lady Winsome said. She paused, then said, “Lord Landry mentioned you. He said he’d known you for a long time and…you complained a lot over being dunned for money.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, I do not know why he should have mentioned it.”
“Nor I,” Leland said. Why on earth should Landry have spoken of his irritation over relatives coming out of the woodwork, looking for money? He probably had one of his nervous attacks, which generally sent him into a babble.
“It is just that, my father is never dunned,” Lady Winsome said.
Leland laughed. “Nobody gets themselves in deep with cards, then?”
Lady Winsome’s eyes widened. “It’s cards, is it?”
“Usually,” he said. She seemed surprised. He supposed the duke did not have the sort of needy and foolhardy relations that he had.
“Oh I see,” she said pensively.
He could not at first work out why the idea seemed to strike hard, but then he remembered she’d been raised somewhere remote in the Dales. She would not have been exposed to profligate young men looking round them to discover where they could locate more funds to throw away. The idea must be found shocking.
Leland turned the conversation to more usual subjects and discovered she’d brought her horse with her to Town. A Dales pony. As far as he could gather, all of the Nicolet daughters were expert horsewomen, but for the youngest, who would only walk her horse. At least, he must suppose so, as Lady Winsome described galloping across fields and jumping farmers’ stone walls.
He also found out Lady Winsome favored gothic novels. He had not read any himself, but understood they were very popular with ladies. He was not precisely sure why, though, after she described the one she’d just finished reading. A Spanish ghost who’d been unjustly killed during the Inquisition got transported to England via a haunted vase and was so enraged that it attempted to drive the inhabitants of a castle mad? The prince and his betrothed were particularly hard hit, as the ghost kept trying to make the princess jump off a balcony, while the prince kept getting the urge to throw himself into a fire. Apparently, it all ended well enough, though he was not at all clear on what happened to the vase, or the ghost.
“So your father mentioned you will attend Almack’s?” he asked, though the idea had already been confirmed.
“Yes, of course I will, it seems a duty as all my sisters have gone. You will attend, I think?”
“Yes, yes,” he said. She really was the loveliest creature he’d ever set eyes on.
“There you are, Winny,” the duke said. “Time to scarper like housebreakers at dawn. We’ve done our duty, no need to be excessive about it. Landry is going to take us, since your aunt has done a runner. Manderbey, the dowager and I have got it all worked out. We will seeyou Wednesday at Almack’s and Thursday to dine.”
Leland bowed and the duke took his daughter away. He watched them head toward the doors, the duke gently pushing people to the side to make way for Lady Winsome. She really was so pretty, and there was to be a dinner.
All he need concern himself about was that his grandmother did not read too much into it and decide to involve herself in some way. And why Landry should be taking them home.
*
Though it wasstill early morning, Winsome had donned her pelisse and hurried two doors down to Lord Thorpe’s house to find her sister, Serenity.
She must talk to a sister, and Valor was not the right sister. The day before, Valor had been satisfied enough to hear that the curtsy to the queen had been a dreadful experience. Winsome had not mentioned she had encountered Lord Manderbey in the reception room.
Winsome really was very glad that the curtsy was over. There had been something nerve-wracking about standing in a line of other ladies, waiting to be called, while her aunt stood stone-faced by her side. At times she’d wished to hurry, or slow down, or disappear altogether. She sometimes had a strong urge to pick up her stupid skirt and run away. After all, what could they do to her if she did?
Other of the older relations who acted as escorts were patting their girl’s hand or whispering comforting things to them. All Lady Marchfield had to say was curtsy to the ground, be demure, back away, and don’t fall over.
Then, her time had come. She did as her aunt had advised and curtsied very low. The queen instructed her to rise. Just when Winsome had been hoping to make her escape, Her Majesty said, “Another Nicolet, I see?”
