“Quite right,” the duke said. “As all my relations know, but for Lady Misery over there who is never invited but decided to turn up anyway, my youngest likes to start us off with some words.”
Valor had remained standing at her place. “Welcome to the dowager, who this dinner honors. We are already friends and she thinks my dog is tremendous.”
Winsome was well aware of the slight to Lord Manderbey and that it was purposefully done. She glanced at the dowager. The lady’s expression was inscrutable, so it was hard to say how she viewed this new friendship she’d suddenly acquired.
“Old people are drawn to me,” Valor continued, “everybody knows it.”
Winsome dug her nails into her palms under the table. She’d told Valor, repeatedly, to stop pointing out that a person was old. They did not like it!
“The company of women friends, like the dowager and my other very old friend Lady Margaret, is so much better than other kinds of friends. For one thing, they don’t sleep in your room and for another, they don’t stare at you while you’re asleep. Mr. Stratton already admitted he does it but, realistically, I’m pretty sure they all do it.”
Valor looked accusingly round the room at her sisters’ husbands.
“For heaven’s sake, Valor, do sit down,” Lady Marchfield said.
“I am trying to convince Winsome not to get married!” Valor said. “She’s the last one!” Valor threw herself into her chair, looking entirely disgusted.
“Well now, another rousing speech from my youngest,” the duke said.
“I have some words to say too,” Lady Marchfield said.
“I knew it,” the duke said. “Whatever nonsense you are about to inflict on us, do not carry on with it all through the soup course.”
Lady Marchfield, as it seemed was becoming her habit, ignored the duke’s barb. Into the air, so it was not entirely clear who she was aiming at, she said, “I have never been one to admit defeat. A person would be exceedingly foolish to imagine I have.”
Her eyes drifted to her brother and now itwasclear who she was aiming at.
The duke laughed and said, “Do not tell me, you have another one of your endless string of hapless butlers waiting in your carriage.”
“Mr. Wicket, I believe it is time to introduce yourself,” Lady Marchfield said with a smile.
Mr. Wicket? Who was Mr. Wicket? Who was she talking to?
Winsome flinched as the curtains across the windows shifted. Avery tall and thin man wearing a severe black suit of clothes emerged from behind them. He had hooded eyes and his sunken cheeks and rail thin physique made Winsome wonder how long he’d been hidden there. The footmen staggered back. Valor ducked under the table. The rest of them stared wide-eyed.
Lord Manderbey leaned toward Winsome. “Who is that?” he whispered.
“I’m afraid it might be the new butler,” she whispered back.
“Correct, Lady Winsome,” Mr. Wicket said. “Yes, I was able to perfectly comprehend your whispers, my hearing is exceptional, as is my eyesight.” Mr. Wicket passed behind the duke and circled the table. The footmen backed out of his way. “Your Grace, Lady Marchfield hired me a month ago. I have been in the house since before your arrival, observing. I am skilled at remaining unseen, having recently served the palace in several clandestine operations. When Lady Marchfield explained what a challenge this household would pose, I knew I was the only man for the job.”
“Get out,” the duke said.
For some reason, Lady Marchfield did not look particularly alarmed over this directive. She simply nodded approvingly at Mr. Wicket. That gentleman strode to the doors, turned, and said, “Goodbye for now.” He then disappeared out the doors to who knew where.
What did he mean,for now? Her father had just ordered the man out of the house and he’d said goodbye for now? Did he imagine the duke would change his mind and invite him back in?
Lady Marchfield laid down her napkin. “Well now, I have accomplished my aim here and need not suffer through this dinner.” She glanced down at her soup. “I imagine your cook is somewhat rattled by recent events. This does not look up to the usual standards. I trust your diabolical housekeeper is likewise shaken.”
Winsome’s aunt rose. “Goodnight to you, Dowager, LordManderbey. I am sorry you had to witness this family contretemps, but the duke has unfortunately made it necessary.”
As she walked to the doors, the duke said, “I warn you, Misery. Take that fool with you, let him be the last, and do not darken my doors with such nonsense again.”
Lady Marchfield turned and smiled at her brother. “We’ll see,” she said.
She shut the doors behind her and was gone.
The dining room was suddenly filled with peals of laughter. The dowager was positively heaving. Catching her breath, she said, “Gracious, that was invigorating. What was it? Is this some sort of new style of a tableau? I’ve not seen it done before.”
