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“Extremely, Your Grace,” she replied. “My mother always hires maids who are interested in improving themselves. It helps, when one is always accompanied, to have the pleasure of intelligent company. Faith is a ravenous reader and an excellent conversationalist.”
“Your mother is very progressive,” he commented.
“Naturally, Your Grace.” Her mother would have positively bloomed to hear such a compliment.
“Do you often meet up with gentlemen, out in the fields like this?” he asked with a smile, clearly teasing her.
“You’d hardly expect me to own up to it,” she replied archly, “Your Grace.” She could tell that he was searching for something to speak of.
“I apologize, My Lady.” He laughed, softly, coloring.
“Accepted, Your Grace.”
She beamed at him, watching as a slow smile spread across his face. He was blushing a bright crimson. It was endearing, how truly off-balance the Duke was.
“Your Grace,” she said. “Tell me, are you at all interested in scones? My Aunt’s cook makes phenomenal ones.” She opened the packet filled with several freshly-baked blueberry scones. She held it out to him.
* * *
Leah and her mother arrived at the Morton’s estate, Tilney Wood. The day prior, they had sent word asking if she was able to see visitors, so soon after the attack. Lady Morton had replied, saying that she was indisposed, but to come by on the morrow, at eleven o’clock, for a small luncheon.
As soon as the butler announced them, Leah and her mother entered. Mrs. Morton stood, shakily. Leah had always loved the Morton’s parlor—it had a stained-glass window, of a rose, which bled ruby-colored light into the room, which Lady Morton had done up in light pinks and creams with dark hardwoods. Leah planned to have a stained-glass window in her own parlor, as soon as she was Duchess. There was a round window that she had in mind.
“Oh, Lady Morton!” Leah said, going to her neighbor.
“Lady Kirby! Lady Leah! How good of you to come,” Lady Morton replied.
“How are you feeling, My Lady?” Leah’s mother asked.
“I’m feeling much better. My poor nerves have been an absolute wreck! Please, sit,” Lady Morton said.
“Were you able to see anything?” Leah’s mother asked.
“Mother! Don’t make her relive it!” Leah said.
“It’s all right,” Lady Morton replied. “They were wearing masks over their faces. And it was dark, except for the light from the carriage lamps.”
“Did they take anything?” Leah asked, her hand to her throat.
“My jewels that I was wearing,” Lady Morton said sadly. “And Lord Morton’s good pocket watch and cufflinks.”
“How awful,” Leah’s mother said.
“Yes—it was a sapphire necklace, which had been in the family since my grandmother,” she said tearily. “We’ve begun to spread word to jewelers across the county to keep an eye out. But there isn’t much to be done. It’s only good luck that the dear Duke of Gillingham has been making inquiries about town.”
“He’s such a brave, caring gentleman,” Leah’s mother agreed. “Very like his father, the late Duke.”
“You’re very fortunate to marrying such an upstanding gentleman,” Lady Morton said.
Leah beamed. “Yes, My Lady. I’m very proud of my husband-to-be,” she said, honestly. He was going to be a good husband. He was everything that a gentleman should be—brave, kind, good-looking.
“Tell me, Lady Leah,” Lady Morton said, “I’m dying for some good news. How go the wedding preparations?”
“Her first fitting for the gown was yesterday,” her mother said. “She looks like a picture! Even Lady Selina was impressed, and you know how fashionable she is.”
“Tell me about it, please,” Lady Morton urged, clasping her hands.
“Well, Saoirse has outdone herself,” her mother said. “She’s just today sewing seed pearls into a rose and vine design, on a background of pure white silk.”
