Page 55 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
An afternoon tea at the home of Mrs. Moriarity was remarked because of one particular guest who arrived clad in a morning gown. Ladies, it is important to know how to dress for the occasion, lest you be the one everyone remembers and not for the reasons to which you aspire.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and
Domesticity for Ladies
AUGUSTA, LADYNORFOLK,was in a very foul mood, for which she could be forgiven. She was in the last month of her pregnancy and complained that nothing fit her, her back hurt, and that she hated her husband.
“Augusta,” Caroline said with a sympathetic smile. “You don’thateHenry.” She had fit the dressing gown she’d made for Augusta around her but realized she’d hardly made it large enough. That was her own fault—she’d never been so close as this to a pregnant belly, and it was...quite large. Privately, Caroline worried that Augusta was carrying more than one child in there. It looked like an entire village.
Augusta had collapsed onto a chair with her legs sprawled in front of her. Caroline wandered over to the towering window to gaze out at the vast lawn below. It was a gloriously sunlit day, and she longed to be outside with everyone. Beck and Norfolk reclined in chairs like a pair of country gentlemen. A nursemaid rocked Augusta’s baby, scarcely a year old, under the boughs of a tree. And in the clearing, the prince...Leopold...was romping with Augusta’s two young daughters along with a frisky black-and-white dog.
He appeared to enjoy it. He was laughing with the girls, encouraging them to chase him. Caroline tried to picture him with the children Lady Eulalie would bear him. Little princesses and princes that looked like him.
It made her feel a little achy.
She absently touched her fingers to her lips and remembered again that staggering kiss in the coach. It had been so tender and considerate—not the same desperate passion she’d shown him. And yet her body had bloomed with it. She could feel herself opening up like a flower, wanting more. Wanting all of him.
Good God. Maybe Beck was right and it was time for her to marry. She was as randy as she’d ever been, wanting things she would not take. Caroline was no saint—she’d been kissed and petted and more. But she’d always been conscious of her virtue and the need to protect it. Great families, her mother had said, maintained their stature through their heirs, their morals and their generosity. She warned Caroline about doing anything that could bring shame to the Hawke name. “A man can recover from his mistakes,” she’d said. “But a woman will carry her shame to her grave.”
For some reason, that warning, said by a mother she’d lost many years ago, had stuck with her all this time. She’d certainly had many opportunities to bring shame to the family name. But yesterday, in the coach, she had seriously considered it.
“What are you looking at?” Augusta asked.
“Oh, just your daughters and your husband in the green below.”
Augusta emitted a sigh that sounded a bit like despair. Caroline turned from the window. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Augusta said. Then she shook her head. “I’m not. Henry disappears from me when I am in confinement.”
Caroline laughed, gesturing to the window. “But he is here, darling. He’s not gone anywhere at all.”
“He disappeared from me in the last four months before Mary was born. The moment he discovered I was with child again, he began to disappear again. He is here in body,” Augusta said morosely. “But not in spirit. He despises my body in this state.” A tear slipped from her eye. “He’s entered some sort of arrangement for exports, and as part of it, he brought home a kitchen girl. Can you imagine? She was part of that arrangement. It’s not the first time it’s happened, either, for him to have a girl tucked away in the servant’s quarters. I got rid of the last one.”
Caroline was stunned. “What are you implying?”
“What do you think?” Augusta asked tearfully.
“No, Augusta,” Caroline said, coming to her side. “That’s not true! He is besotted with you.”
“Don’t try to tell me what he is, Caroline! Iknowwhat he is and what he does.”
Caroline suspected she might, too. Last night when they’d arrived, Henry had whisked Beck and the prince away, as if Caroline and Augusta didn’t exist. When she’d mentioned it to Beck, he’d said it was because Augusta wanted nothing to do with Leopold, and really, did Caroline want to sit with the gentlemen while they smoked cigars and talked about masculine things?
“What are masculine things?” she’d asked.
Beck had frowned. “Masculine things. Use your imagination, Caro.” He’d tapped her head with two fingers and had left her to spend the day with a miserable Augusta.
“The dressing gown is beautiful,” Augusta said, stroking the embroidered placket.
“The embroidery is Martha’s work. She’s taught me quite a lot,” Caroline said. “She worked on it while I sewed the hem.”
“I never knew you had any talent,” Augusta murmured.
Caroline laughed. “Neither did I. But last summer, I couldn’t find a modiste who was willing to make a train like the Alucians wear. I’ve always been fairly good with a needle and thought I’d try. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be,” she said with a shrug.
The door to the salon opened, and a young maid entered, carrying a tray with tea service. She misstepped; the pot clattered against one of the cups.
Augusta took one look at her, and her expression turned dark. “For God’s sake, don’t be stupid.”
