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Beatrice crouched beneath the desk. Her mother entered the room.
Don’t look down, Mama.
“Have you seen my daughter? She left a note that she’d be here, and the housekeeper told me she was upstairs.”
“Good day, Your Grace,” Ford said smoothly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you calling as I was hammering these shelves.” He held up a hammer. “Lady Beatrice was here, but she left shortly before you arrived. I think she said she was going to visit a Miss Mayberry.”
“That’s back in Mayfair. I wonder why she didn’t take the carriage today. I don’t like her walking when she’s feeling ill. She must have slipped away without the servants seeing her. Are you the carpenter my daughter employed?”
“Stamford Wright.” He bowed. “At your service. Would you care for a tour of the improvements I’ve made on the first level?”
Beatrice’s nose tickled; it was dusty beneath the desk. She was going to sneeze.Oh lord.She held her nose and tried breathing through her mouth.
“I don’t want a tour, Wright. I want you to return to Mayfair with me,” the dowager duchess said.
“Pardon me?”
“I’m hosting a costume ball this evening and everything is in a shambles. I had a set piece designed for Lady Beatrice, and it’s completely unstable and not fit to be seen. I want you to come and fix it for me.”
“Er...”
“It’s only for an hour. I’ll hear no protests. My daughter can spare you for an hour. Come along.” Her mother always did get what she wanted.
They left the room together, and Beatrice listened until the carriage wheels crunched away before emerging from her hiding place.
That had been entirely too close of a thing.
When she arrived home, Hobbs informed her that her mother wanted her in the ballroom. “Such a to-do, Lady Beatrice,” he said as he took her pelisse and bonnet. “This ball will truly be a memorable occasion.”
Her mother was in the ballroom, standing over Ford’s shoulder as he fitted wheels onto a wooden cart of some sort. “Beatrice! You’re here at last. Come and see! This is what I’ve been planning.”
She approached, pretending to feign surprise at seeing Ford. “Mr. Wright?”
“I borrowed him for an hour. The other carpenter ruined everything, and Wright is doing an admirable job on the repairs.”
He caught Beatrice’s gaze for a brief moment before returning to his work.
Seeing him made her blush, thinking of what they’d been about to do.
Her mother caught her hand. “Well, I see the fresh air has done you good, you look blooming.”
“Mother, what is this?”
It appeared to be an elaborate bed in front of a painted backdrop depicting a lush meadow filled with flowers and birds. The bed was mounted on a wooden frame that curved up at the sides, and the entire affair was set atop four wheels.
“It’s your bower, Your Ladyship,” said Ford.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” her mother exclaimed rapturously.
“Why does it have wheels?”
“Because you’re going to be rolled into the ballroom, reclining upon your bower. Oh, how I wish your brothers would be here. I would have them roll you in. As it is, I’ll have to use footmen. Mr. Wright, I request that you attend tonight to make certain there are no mishaps with the wheels.”
“She’s lighter than a feather, Your Grace,” Ford said, “and I’ll build these wheels to last. Never fear.”
“Excellent. That’s exactly the reassurance I needed to hear.” She pulled Beatrice toward the arrangements of red hothouse roses arranged at intervals along the walls. “Aren’t they lovely?”
“Surpassingly.” She plucked a red rose.
