Chapter Seven
Leland had beendetermined to speak forcefully to his grandmother that morning. It had not been possible though. Miss Price had reported that the dowager was under the weather due to the prior evening’s late night. Leland presumed it was not the late hour that had affected her, but the flask of Canary she’d seen fit to bring with her.
Now they were in the carriage, having just set off for Grosvenor Square. He would use that quarter hour to say what must be said.
“You were a spectacle last evening,” he said.
“Oh really?” the dowager said. “Nobody dared say a word about it though, did they? I am a dowager duchess and I amused myself with a duke of the realm. Only the queen would dare scold me over it, not those puffed-up patronesses.”
Leland decided to drop that particular subject as it seemed he would not get anywhere with it. “I hope you intend to conduct yourself with a modicum of restraint this evening.”
The dowager shrugged. “Depends on the quality of the duke’s wine, does it not?”
“It certainly does not. Furthermore, I demand you cease attempting to manage my affairs, which I am entirely capable of managing myself.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” the dowager said. “If you were, I’d be surrounded by grandchildren by now.”
“Really, Grandmama, I am issuing a warning. If you do notrestrain yourself I will have to pack you up and send you home.”
This elicited peals of laughter from the dowager. “Oh that is rich. Manderbey, you have no imagination. Can you not conjure a picture of the dramatic show I would make of it? Drury Lane could not rise to the heights of what I could produce. I suppose I might even throw myself on the pavement and cry that I am an old and decrepit woman abandoned by my kin to starve in the countryside alone.”
“Nobody will believe you would starve.”
“People will believe anything from an old person lying on the pavement.”
She really was irascible. All Leland could do was pray she did not say anything outrageous at the dinner. Then, he really would have to find a way to send her home. He could not go on all season in this manner.
Perhaps his father could send a letter regarding…some emergency. Perhaps the duke could send a letter indicating that the new duchess was not getting the hang of things and required her instruction. The dowager would jump at the chance to boss about her daughter-in-law.
He would write his father about it. If there were anybody who knew how much trouble the dowager could be, it was the duke. Of course, since he did know it, he might not want to have her coming in his direction to trouble his wife.
As they rode along in silence, Leland reviewed the book he’d begun reading last night and had finished this morning over breakfast. The point of reading it was to have a common subject of conversation with Lady Winsome. What on earth was he to say about it though?
It seemed the vicar’s daughter who’d walked through the wood at twilight had encountered the mysterious man who had taken over Werely Castle. He’d blown a powder into her face and she’d followed him willingly. Then she was locked in a tower and when she came to her senses all she could think to do was scream out a window at night. There was no explanation for why she did not scream in the daytime,or try to break the lock on the door, or how she survived without food and water. The milliner’s swashbuckling son had come to the rescue and they wed. As the church bells rang, the castle collapsed in a heap. No explanation of whether the mysterious man was in it, though it was an accepted fact that it collapsed because he could not marry the vicar’s daughter.
What was he to make of that?
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the duke’s house. He had not been to the address since Wembly got married there. He leapt down and assisted his grandmother to the pavement, though he’d rather leave her in the carriage.
Surprisingly, a footman showed them in and announced them. Leland had seen no sign of a butler at Wembly’s wedding and had assumed some illness or emergency had caused the absence. It seemed strange that he would still be missing from the scene.
The dowager greeted the duke as if they were fast friends, which he supposed they were after their little adventure last evening. For himself, he was all eyes on Lady Winsome. She had such a refined style. The bottle-green velvet with copper-braid trim was the sort of dress that would stand apart and be found superior. And that was before he considered how it brought out the copper highlights of her hair and her perfectly freckled nose.
“Lord Manderbey,” Lady Winsome said. “This is my younger sister, Lady Valor. You may remember her from my sister Verity’s wedding.”
Leland had hardly noticed anybody else was in the room. He looked about and found a strangely attired girl holding a dog. He did remember her, as she’d given a bizarre speech at the wedding. She was young and yet dressed as if she were a hundred years old. Her dress was a heavy brocade in purple silk and embroidered with gold thread, the sort elderly ladies sometimes favored and everybody else would relegate to curtains. The dress sported a lace fichu with a pearlnecklace improbably worn over it.
Lady Valor held up a pug. “Isn’t he tremendous?”
“Lady Valor,” he said. “Um yes, he does seem so.”
She nodded in approval. “I will go and show the dowager. Old people are drawn to me and they always love my dog.” She marched off to the duke and his grandmother.
“I feel I should apologize for anything Valor has said or will say,” Lady Winsome said.
“Not at all,” Leland said, “else I’ll have to do the same for my grandmother. Lady Valor’s mode of dress, it that a Yorkshire style of some sort?”
The faintest blush spread over Lady Winsome’s perfect cheeks. “I’m afraid not. She calls them her hostessing clothes and believes they make her appear older than she is.”
