Page 31 of A Wallflower's Convenient Duke
“Yes, my lady?” Mr. Pratt called, gesturing toward her with polite curiosity.
Blanche rose slightly in her seat, her voice clear but composed.
“Thank you, Mr. Pratt. I was most intrigued by your mention of delicate finds. Might I ask—what measures are taken to ensure such fragile artefacts are preserved during excavation? And once uncovered, how are they best protected from deterioration?”
A murmur of approval passed through the audience at the thoughtful query.
Mr. Pratt inclined his head, clearly pleased. “An excellent question, indeed. Preservation, particularly of fragile items, is an essential and often overlooked part of the work. We begin with careful documentation, and when necessary, create controlled environments on-site to avoid destabilisation. Once recovered, items are cleaned—often with the gentlest of brushes—and stabilised by trained conservators. Some pieces require months, even years, of delicate restoration before they are fit to be studied or displayed.”
Blanche listened intently, absorbing every word. “Thank you, sir. That is most illuminating.”
She resumed her seat, cheeks tinged with colour—not from embarrassment, but from the quiet thrill of having contributed something of value. She could feel Philip’s gaze upon her, and though she did not meet it at once, she smiled to herself.
Yes—Penelope had been right. Whatever else lay ahead, this—this spark of shared purpose—would remain. Here, among lost histories and long-buried truths, Blanche had found a sliver of certainty.
They would always have this between them: a meeting of minds, a shared reverence for the past, and the possibility—just the faintest glimmer—of something genuine unfolding in the present.
***
The clatter of hooves echoed through the narrow London streets as the carriage carried Blanche and Philip towards her family's townhouse. The flickering gas lamps cast a warm glow, illuminating the familiar surroundings of the city. Blanche's mind, however, was focused on a matter closer to her heart; the mystery of the missing antiquities still weighed heavily on her mind.
Spurred by inspiration from Mr. Pratt’s lecture and buoyed by Philip’s agreeable nature, Blanche had requested a detour to her family’s townhouse. To her quiet relief, he had agreed without hesitation.
As the carriage slowed before the tall, familiar façade of the Ipswich residence, Blanche felt a rush of anticipation mingled with unease. Stepping down with Philip at her side, she smoothed her skirts and steeled herself.
The door opened to the scent of polished wood and the gentle hush of memories. The house stood as it always had, though something in the air felt slightly altered charged,somehow. Blanche’s gaze scanned the hallway, half-hoping the artefacts might greet her from their rightful place.
Before she could venture further, a burst of laughter rang down the hall. A familiar voice followed.
“Leopold?” Blanche called, surprise and delight threading through her tone.
“Sister!” he cried, racing forward. “You’re here—I hadn’t expected it! I’ve missed you dreadfully.”
They embraced warmly, and for a moment the house rang with laughter and youthful joy. It was only when they pulled apart that Blanche remembered herself, turning toward Philip with shining eyes.
“Philip, this is my younger brother, Leopold.” She hesitated briefly, the next words catching oddly in her throat. “Leopold—this is my husband.”
It was a little strange to use the word 'husband', especially in front of her brother. This might have been the first time the whole thing felt intensely real to Blanche.
Philip, a warm smile on his face, extended a hand towards Leopold. "It is my pleasure, Leopold," he said. "It is an honour to meet you."
Leopold, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, shook Philip's hand firmly. "Likewise, Your Grace," he replied with a playful tone. "I must say—it’s quite something to return home and find one’s sister has married a duke. That wasn’t in any of the letters.”
Blanche laughed softly. “It was all rather sudden.”
Philip chuckled. “Indeed. Life rarely announces its surprises ahead of time.”
Blanche chuckled. At only fifteen years of age, Leopold had a lot to learn about the life that lay ahead of him. Although it was likely going to be a lot easier for him to navigate this world as a man. He would have more choices ahead of him.
And an older sister who, of course, was going to guide him along the way…
But the warmth of the moment was soon chilled by Blanche’s true purpose. She turned back to Leopold, her voice gentle.
“Is Mother at home?”
Leopold, a picture of youthful innocence, looked up with wide eyes. “Oh, you just missed her. A gentleman—rather an odd sort, truth be told—called on her earlier. They spoke in private for over an hour, and then she departed in haste, saying she had an engagement. Seemed to be in quite a hurry.”
A thread of unease wove through Blanche’s chest. A secret meeting? And now a mysterious departure? Her mother was not one to act without motive, and lately, Blanche’s suspicions had only grown.
