Page 44 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“You are the same in height and weight. I’d wager you could slip right into her gowns. If we had kept them.”
Of course, they wouldn’t have kept them. They would have sent them back to her family.
“Her family was from where?
“She had no family, My Lady,” Anna answered flatly. “Not being of noble birth, that was why she asked us to call her Lady Patricia.”
Henrietta’s confusion was only growing, not abating. The more she questioned the abigail, the answers proved all the stranger. How does a woman with no family marry the son of a duke? Such a thing was rarely done among the members of the ton. It would have meant unprecedented scandal, the degree of scandal that few families could recover from. It would be a disgrace.
“But who arranged the match?”
“The Marquess, my Lady.”
None of this made any sense. “The Marquess arranged his own marriage? The son of a Duke?”
“Yes, my Lady. He married for love.”
Chapter 18
This was a truly remarkable development and the mystery of the Marquess only seemed to deepen. For him to marry for love was conceivable, but to marry a nobody? That was just not done. Could Anna be mistaken? Henrietta sought to clarify with her abigail. “I know ‘tis a delicate subject, Anna, and I appreciate you helping me understand. Where did she come from?”
“No one really knew. She didn’t even know. The Duke and Duchess, well, they were not happy as you would imagine. Lady Patricia was not at all suitable, they said. She would not do, they said. It had the makings of quite a scandal, but it was all hushed up.”
“Oh my,” Henrietta sighed. “How did they meet?”
“I really shouldn’t say, my Lady.”
“Anna, please indulge me. I will not gossip. I simply wish to know the history.”
“Very well,” Anna acquiesced uneasily. “He was on holiday on the Continent. She was the particular travelling companion of a young lady whose father had generously funded her trip as part of her education. Lady Patricia was her governess, I believe.” Anna paused briefly to ponder that statement and check it for correctness. “Yes, that’s right. She was the governess.”
“A governess? I can see that would indeed bring scandal. A governess is hardly considered suitable for any marriage in the ton. Did you like her?”
“Very much. For a governess, she made a great Lady. And she made the Marquess very happy.”
Henrietta could not have been more surprised by all this new information. Her husband was not supposed to fall in love with Patricia. He was certainly not supposed to marry her, but he did despite the disapproval of his parents, society, and perhaps even the King himself. There was much more she wished to know, but she didn’t want to make Anna even more uncomfortable with more questions. Perhaps in a different setting she could bring the topic up again and take a different tact.
She glanced at the windows and took note that the gray sky had given way to bright October sunshine. Suddenly, an idea struck her fancy.
“Anna?”
“Yes, my Lady?”
“What do you say you and I go into town and sip some of the famed Scarborough Spa waters? I’m quite anxious to try them.”
Anna beamed. “I would like that very much, my Lady!”
“Get your cloak then. Adventure awaits!”
The two of them made a day of it, which was easy to do in the seaside resort town designed for leisure. First, they visited the renowned Pump House at the Spa to take the waters, then walked the beach as the tide was out and the sea air, while briskly cold, was fresh and free. They shared a giggle as Henrietta wondered aloud who would be foolish enough to try the bathing machines that sat in the icy waters just off the shore. With sandy shoes, they perused the shops, admiring the hats in the window at the Mrs. Peacock Shop.
When passing the Agricultural and General Library on King Street, Henrietta was careful to appear unimpressed, not willing to take any chances with Anna. She enjoyed herself with her good-natured abigail, but she had to keep in mind that the girl worked for the Marquess. Ultimately, she was employed by the Duke.
They returned to the Old Bell late that afternoon to find a message had been left with the innkeeper addressed to the Lady Henrietta, Marchioness of Peterborough. She did not recognize the handwriting.
Odd.
She thanked the man and took her note to her room.
