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Cynthia turned to look at her lady’s companion, the fellow daughter of a viscount, perched on the edge of the bed, looking over one of the other gowns laid out there.
“I believe you are right, Miss Cynthia,” Daphne responded, looking up from the blossom pink gown she had been eyeing as though she wanted to try it on herself. “I believe this one will go perfectly with your dark red hair, Thia.”
“I would have to agree,” the modiste said with the hint of a French accent she had picked up from her dear late mother whom Cynthia had loved greatly for the amazing work she had always done on her gowns, always putting just enough into the gowns to make both herself and her mother happy even though they had quite different tastes. The daughter had learned such wonderful skills from the mother, so Cynthia held them both in high esteem.
“Yes, I am certain it would,” Cynthia agreed, though in truth, she would have much preferred the purple dress in her hands or even a gown in blue or green. She had never been much of a fan of pink as so many other young women were.
“Both of your sisters always loved a good pink gown,” La Roche pointed out, and Cynthia struggled to hide the way the comment made her cringe. As the youngest daughter of Viscount Ashton, she was forever being compared to her two older sisters, already married off.
“And that is because you make them so beautifully, Madam La Roche,” Cynthia responded, offering the woman a smile over her shoulder.
She was only slightly relieved not to have to continue the conversation when she heard someone knocking on the door. Even before she could call for them to enter, the door was pushed open, and her mother swept in, a flourish of elegant silken skirts.
“Madam La Roche, Miss Daphne, please leave us momentarily,” Viscountess Ashton instructed firmly, though not without kindness. “I must speak with my daughter immediately on a most urgent matter.”
Cynthia and Daphne glanced quickly at each other, their gazes reflecting the same emotions of apprehension that any noble daughter felt whenever her mother came to her in such a hurried manner.
Whatever her mother had come to speak to her about, it was likely urgent in only a nobleman’s eyes. Likely there was some important ball or luncheon they were required to attend now that their mourning period for her dearly departed father was drawing to an end.
Cynthia’s only relief at seeing her mother was that she had finally removed the hideous black veil she had insisted upon wearing every single day since her husband’s death. Though her gown was still a deep shade of blue, it was no longer black, and the frown upon the viscountess’s face was no longer quite so stern and sombre.
“Of course, My Lady.” La Roche nodded and curtseyed quickly along with Daphne before she ushered the younger woman from the room. Cynthia could already imagine her closest friend likely listening at the door to whatever her mother had to tell her. She was certain that whatever it was, they would both laugh about it afterwards and mock her mother’s constant need to make everything so dramatic.
The moment that Daphne and La Roche were gone, the door closing firmly behind them, Viscountess Ashton raised two envelopes in her hand and announced, “We have received a letter from your sister, Olivia.”
Cynthia smiled at hearing her sister’s name. She and Olivia had always been the closest of sisters right up until the elder had been married off to Viscount Colefield, almost as soon as she was of marrying age. Both girls had been quite devastated when they first learned of the situation, but Cynthia was glad now, for she had seen and read about just how happy the viscount had made her sister.
“Oh, please, do tell me there is good news!” Cynthia exclaimed, placing the gown she had been holding on the bed so she could give her full attention to her mother. Gowns could wait when it came to news of her beloved sister.
“Oh, wonderful news indeed!” Viscountess Ashton assured her, and for once, Cynthia thought that her mother sounded genuinely pleased with whatever she had come to say. “You are to be an aunt, finally!”
Cynthia’s jaw dropped open in sheer astonishment. Of all the things she had expected her mother to say, that her sister had been gifted a brand-new horse or that the viscount had renewed her wardrobe with the latest fashions, she never had in a million years expected her mother would tell her that her sister was with child.
“Isn’t this wonderful news?” her mother suggested, her smile broadening. “I am finally to be a grandmother!”
Though she opened her mouth to suggest that yes, it was indeed good news, Cynthia felt her heart clench as she watched her mother’s face drop, and even without asking, she knew all too well what the viscountess was thinking. She quickly pursed her lips, already sure she knew what was coming.
“Your father would have been mighty pleased,” Viscountess Ashton said with a little sniffle, and Cynthia watched her stroke a strand of blonde hair from her face. Though it was clearly a distraction, it did not have the intended effect, and Cynthia did not miss the tear that her mother swept away before hardening her expression.
Moving forward instinctively, Cynthia placed a gentle hand upon her mother’s forearm, hoping to comfort her in what little way she could a woman who rarely showed her true emotions.
“I am sure that wherever Papa is, he is extremely proud and very pleased with this news,” Cynthia assured her mother. Though she had never really believed in such things as loved ones remaining long past their physical form, her mother seemed to take comfort in the words, so she would always say them wherever they were needed.
The viscountess placed her free hand upon Cynthia’s and offered a grateful smile before she removed one letter from her other hand and placed it on the table at the end of Cynthia’s bed. Glancing at the handwriting on the envelope, Cynthia could clearly tell it was the letter from her sister.
Knowing what was contained in said letter, she did not feel the need to enquire why her mother had left it for her. It was no secret that Cynthia often liked to reread the letters sent from her sisters just so that she could once more feel close to them.
What intrigued her now, however, was the letter that her mother still held in her hand. The handwriting on the front of that envelope she did not recognise, though she had to admit that the penmanship was fine indeed.
“Am I to assume you wished to talk to me about this second letter?” Cynthia asked, dropping her gaze to the second envelope once more. Her mother smiled once more and shrugged off Cynthia’s hand from her arm so she could pull open the envelope.
Cynthia waited in anticipation as her mother seemed to reread the letter before she finally started to explain what it contained.
“It is a letter from Lord William Talbot,” the viscountess explained, her smile broadening as her eyes continued to skim over the words on the paper. “He writes that he is coming to London on a visit and asks if he might call upon us during his time in the city.”
Cynthia’s throat constricted at that.What business does the second son of an earl have visiting the widow and daughter of a viscount?As if she didn’t really know, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit it to herself, not truly.
“Why would he wish to visit us?” Cynthia asked. “Surely his business must be with Edward?”
