A Hand for the Duke

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Christianne could not meet her daughter’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again, unsure of what to say.

That was your father didn’t seem quite right, especially since she hadn’t even had a chance to tell Liam about Tina’s existence. She had to do that before she could tell Tina. It was the right thing to do.

Christianne had been mortified when Liam had shown up at her party—mainly because she’d completely forgotten about the letter she’d written and hadn’t intended to send. On the other hand, it had been extremely gratifying that he’d come with apparently no reservations or ill-will toward her despite the fact they hadn’t seen each other for nearly ten years and hadn’t spoken properly since… Well, since Tina had been conceived twenty years ago.

And then to see him interacting with his own daughter without any knowledge of who she was—it had been heartbreaking she hadn’t been able to say anything to either of them. Christianne had had to bite her tongue more than once to keep from shouting out the truth in front of everybody.

She nearly laughed. Wouldn’t that have been a juicy scandal to start off the season! But, no, she’d managed to control herself and get rid of Liam as quickly as possible. But what to tell Tina now? She couldn’t tell her the truth—not until she’d spoken to Liam.

“Lord Ayres is an old friend of mine,” she said, keeping as close to the truth as possible. “It was so embarrassing that he showed up that afternoon. I’d written to tell him when I was coming to town and invite him for a visit, but I’d meant to change the date in my letter before it was posted. The footman must have seen it on my desk and picked it up with the other invitations.” She shook her head and forced out a little laugh. “It will be fine. I’ll speak with him soon and apologize.”

“He didn’t seem to mind at all,” Tina said with a giggle. “And I appreciated his thoughts. He has the most incredible eye for fashion—certainly better than any man I’ve ever met.”

Christianne’s laugh was honest this time. “Indeed! He is well known for that eye. He has been considered one of the best-dressed gentlemen of the ton for over twenty years.”

“My goodness! That’s impressive,” Tina exclaimed. A knock at her door interrupted whatever she was going to say next, however.

She jumped up to answer it, and Christianne could hear her speaking to another woman who seemed to be asking about her services. It was time she left anyway.

She got up and joined Tina as she was letting the other woman into her home. “Miss Rowan, thank you so much for your time. I do look forward to seeing what beautiful creation you have for me,” she said with a wink to Tina.

“Oh, thank you so much, Lady Norman. I will be contacting you shortly,” Tina responded, playing right along.

“Oh, hello, Lady Moreton, how lovely to see you again,” Christianne said, greeting the other woman.

“Lady Norman, it is a pleasure. I just came by because I saw the exact material I want for my new gown, and it’s just at the draper’s next door. I’ve purchased what you will need, and they said they would have it delivered to you later this afternoon,” Lady Moreton said.

“That’s wonderful! Thank you so much for letting me know,” Tina said.

“Of course,” Lady Moreton said.

“I’m finished here. Shall we walk out together?” Christianne said, tucking her hand into the crook of Lady Moreton’s arm. Perhaps she could convince the young woman to spread the word of Tina’s designs sooner rather than later.

~March 25~Warwick was nearly finished with his plans for five of his estates for the following year. He had one more to do.

He’d just pulled forward the budget and reports from the previous year and bent his mind to the task when Martin came into the study and threw himself into his chair. He reeked of an alehouse, leaving Warwick no doubt as to where he’d spent most of his afternoon—hopefully gathering good information.

Warwick looked up and waited. He knew that he’d get an earful in just a moment. Martin could never keep anything to himself for long.

“I give up,” the secretary said finally. “I can’t do it.”

“What—”

“You know, there aren’t a lot of things I can’t do,” he said, interrupting Warwick.

“Indeed, I do know—”

“And it’s not for lack of trying, I can assure you,” he said, cutting him off again.

“Of course not.” Perhaps if he kept his responses short, he wouldn’t be interrupted again.

“What? Is that it?” Martin said, turning on him. “Aren’t you going to ask what it is that I can’t do?”

Warwick had a sinking feeling he knew what Martin was talking about, but clearly his secretary needed to unburden himself. “I was about to, but—”

“I feel like the world is conspiring to keep this information from me,” Martin said as if Warwick hadn’t said a word.

Warwick couldn’t take it anymore. He started to laugh. He was almost certain Martin was doing this on purpose. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

“What’s so funny? You try finding the best modiste in London! In fact—you do have to do this, Warwick. I can’t. Honestly, I’ve tried. I’ve spoken to at least fifteen different people and have gotten so many shrugs of ignorance, I can’t tell you.”

“Ah! That’s where I thought you were going, but I did want to make sure,” Warwick said, leaning back in his chair.

“What else would it be?” Martin said, feigning outrage. “Did you possibly think there was anything else I couldn’t do? Truly? Your Grace?” The last words were spoken with such feelings of hurt Warwick almost started laughing once again.

With some effort, he kept his amusement to himself. “No! Absolutely not. I know you to be a remarkable person, able to take on any task that is set before you. It’s why I thought you’d be able to achieve this one little—”

“Little! Are you kidding me?” Martin jumped up from his chair. “Have you any idea? No, clearly you do not. Well, I dare you, I dare you to discover who this paragon of female fashion is because I can tell you that I cannot.”

Warwick steepled his fingers together and thought about this. Who could he possibly ask? What female did he know who would be able to recommend an appropriate modiste for his sister? “Ah!” He stood up. “I know exactly where to find out.”

He headed for the door.

“Wait! You aren’t even going to tell me where you are off to?” Martin objected.

Warwick turned around and graced his secretary with a smile. “I will be paying a visit to the Duchess of Kendell, my good man. She will know who can make a ball gown for Margaret.”

“Oh, sure, flaunt your noble connections in my face!” Martin called after him. “And don’t forget, Margaret needs a gown for court as well!”

Warwick laughed and sent one footman running for his hat and another to inform the stables that he was in need of his phaeton.

Within a quarter of an hour, Warwick was knocking upon the Duchess of Kendell’s front door, and less than two minutes after that he was shown into her esteemed presence.

“Warwick, how lovely to see you!” the duchess said, holding out her hands toward him.

He bowed over them and placed a chaste kiss on the back of one.

“And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” she said, sitting down and indicating that he do so as well. She gave a nod to the footman, who was still hovering near the door.

“I’m afraid I’ve not come on a social call,” he admitted. He adjusted his coat a touch. Somehow the duchess always managed to keep her drawing room stifling hot. He glanced in the direction of the fireplace, and indeed, there was a large blazing fire dancing away.

“No, I hadn’t thought so. You never do, you know, but you might consider it every so often,” she said, with a twinkle of amusement in her large brown eyes.

“Yes, you’re right, I should. I apologize,” he said.

“It’s quite all right. Knowing how busy Kendell was, I can imagine that you don’t have a great deal of time to go visiting old friends—with the emphasis on old, of course.”

He gave a laugh. “You are not old!”

“I am exactly the same age your mother would have been had she not been taken far before her time,” the duchess said. A sad smile trembled on her lips. “We came out together, you know. Of course, I couldn’t stand her at the time, especially when she managed to attract the attention of your father almost the moment she set foot into our first ball.”

“But you showed her, you got your own duke, didn’t you?” he said, smiling fondly at her.

“Ha! Yes, I did. And I’m certain I wouldn’t have been nearly as happy with Warwick as I was with my dear, sweet Kendell.”

A maid came in bearing a tea tray. They waited in silence while everything was set out for them. The duchess poured and offered Warwick a slice of seed cake, which he accepted gratefully realizing that, once again, he’d missed the mid-day meal. He really had to ask Margaret to keep him from doing that.

“Now,” the duchess said, settling back with her own cup of tea, “what can I do for you?”

He quickly swallowed his mouthful of cake and said, “I am planning on bringing Margaret out this season.”

“You are? Why, that’s wonderful! Who do you have sponsoring her?”

“My cousin, Lady Sonora, will present her at court. The rest I will do myself. Poor Sonora hates being in public and absolutely refuses to attend even the quietest of parties. She agreed to the Queen’s drawing room, as that is the one thing I cannot do, but other than that...” He gave a little shrug.

“Oh, dear!”

“Yes. Sadly, she also seems to have an unreasonable fear of mantua-makers—which is what brought me here today. I was wondering if you knew of anyone you could recommend to make some gowns for Margaret. She’ll need a court dress and one for her coming out ball, and maybe others as well, I don’t know.”

The duchess carefully placed her now empty teacup down on the table in front of them, and Warwick reached for a second piece of cake while she considered his question.

“I wouldn’t recommend that she go to my woman. She’s older, and I believe caters to us old folks. I’ve been going to her for years, but Margaret needs someone younger, more…current, I believe.”

Warwick nodded his agreement even as he chewed. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

A smile slowly spread across her delicate features. “As a matter of fact, I do. I was introduced to just such a person only a few days ago by Lady Norman. She found a very talented young woman in her village and has set her up here in London. I think she would be perfect for dear Margaret. She’s just starting out and so is at the very forefront of style—trying to make a name for herself, you know.”

“But is she good? Could she make gowns appropriate for my sister?”

“I believe so. And, if I remember Lady Margaret correctly, she’s a rather…sensitive girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Warwick said with a sigh. It wasn’t Margaret’s fault. Their parents had never paid their daughter any attention, and somehow she’d just faded away into the background. He said nothing of this to his mother’s friend, not wanting to speak ill of the dead.

“Well, this young woman seems like she would be perfect for a girl like that.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

She paused to think about it for a moment. “I’m not entirely certain, to be honest. It was just a feeling I got from speaking to her and watching her work.” She gave a decisive nod. “Give her a try. I’m not sure where she’s located, but I’m certain that you’ll be able to reach her through Lady Norman.”

~March 26~You are cordially invited to attend the first meeting of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society.

Christianne had been pleased and a little amazed at the response she’d gotten to her invitations. She’d only sent them four days before the gathering, and almost immediately she’d heard from nearly everyone. Eventually, every single invitation had been accepted. Even Miss Hemshawe, who had been given only a very quick introduction to whist at Tina’s fashion party, had responded positively.

The same seven women who’d attended Tina’s gathering had been invited to join the Whist Society. With little to do while Tina had discussed dresses with individual ladies and taken measurements, some of the other women had sat down with a deck of cards and proceeded to play a hand of whist. They had enjoyed themselves so much that when Claire, Lady Blakemore had suggested forming such a group, everyone had agreed the idea had merit. Now, even a week later, clearly they were still interested.

Christianne welcomed all the women into her drawing room. Once everyone had been served a cup of tea and offered a piece of cake, she looked around for a moment just to confirm the impression she had come away with after their last gathering.

She’d felt an unusual camaraderie among the ladies, and indeed, even today as she watched, Lady Sorrell and Lady Moreton seemed to be deep in conversation over some serious topic. The two youngest ladies, Miss Sheffield, and Miss Hemshawe, were giggling together, and the three older ladies Mrs. Aldridge, Claire, and the duchess seemed to be comparing notes regarding this season’s crop of girls making their debut. She wasn’t certain about how well the duchess and Mrs. Aldridge were getting along. No matter what one said, the other seemed to have an opposing opinion. Claire was doing a fine job of mediating until she caught Christianne’s eye and gave her such an exasperated look that Christianne laughed and called for everyone’s attention.

“Ladies, thank you all for coming this afternoon. I assume that you are here because you’re interested in joining the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society.” She paused as many of the ladies agreed, either verbally or with a simple nod of her head. “And as I always believe in giving credit where it is due, I must thank Lady Blakemore for coming up with this idea the last time we all gathered together.”

Claire returned Christianne’s nod and gave everyone else a polite smile.

“Since there are precisely eight of us, this works out very well. We’ll be able to form two tables.”

“How often do you expect we should meet, Lady Norman?” Lady Sorell asked.

“Yes, that’s an excellent question,” Lady Moreton agreed. She was usually very quiet, but Christianne was happy to see that she felt comfortable enough in this company to speak up.

“Would once a week be too often?” Christianne asked. “We could make it every other week, but then I worry we would forget or become confused as to whether it was an on week or an off.”

“No, every week would be much easier to manage,” the duchess proclaimed.

“And if for some reason someone can’t come?” Miss Hemshawe asked.

“You’ll be forced to partner with me the following week and believe me, you don’t want that!” Miss Sheffield said bursting into giggles.

A few other ladies also laughed, although the duchess and Claire merely shook their heads with condescending smiles at the girl’s silliness.

“If any are missing, we will rotate people in with each hand,” Christianne proposed.

“Scoring will be a little tricky, but it’s possible,” Claire agreed.

So far, everyone was in accord. This was definitely an auspicious beginning.