Page 6 of Never Dare a Duke
Miss Bury awoke with a start as the horses came to a stop. She smiled between the two young ladies. “Oh, Miss Shaw, do not fret. This is the duchess’s first house party. I am certain it will be a small affair, surely not more than twenty-five or thirty guests.”
Abigail tried not to gulp too audibly.
There was a footman to open the carriage door and assist them down, a footman to take Miss Bury’s arm and escort their small party up the stairs, and another waiting to open the door for them. All wore the knee breeches, short brass-buttoned coats, and white wigs of the duke’s ancient livery.
If there were this many servants in the courtyard, imagine how many were in the entire castle, Abigail thought in awe.
But that’s how the Cabots expected visitors to feel, she reminded herself: awed by their title and money and power. If one were full of awe, one might ignore the scandalous underbelly. But not Abigail. She would notice everything, talk to everyone, be they duchess or scullery maid, and discover therealduke.
Inside the great entrance hall, two stories high, statues stared blindly at them from alcoves in the wall, and beneath their feet was the most intricate marble inlaid floor. It took everything in Abigail not to gape about her. She did peer into the next massive room, a great hall, with scattered groups of furniture, overlooked by ancient swords and shields on the walls between medieval tapestries.
They were met by a housekeeper, an older woman dressed in a black gown, white apron, and lace cap, who pleasantly told them that luncheon would be served in one hour. A maid was dispatched to show them to their chambers to refresh themselves.
And then Abigail had to tax her brain to try to remember the many stairs and corridors they used.
The young maid bobbed her head as she said over her shoulder to Gwen, “This wing will house the young ladies—milady.”
Abigail and Gwen exchanged a grin, then Abigail casually asked, “So there is another wing for the gentlemen? Does the family itself split into these two wings as well?”
“Oh no, miss. There is also a family wing.”
Abigail nodded thoughtfully. There was much to learn about Madingley Court, and if she wanted to explore it unobtrusively, she would need to study the layout well.
At last they reached their chambers on the third floor. Gwen and Abigail had rooms next door to each other, and Miss Bury was situated directly across the hall. The maid promised to send someone up immediately to press their gowns.
Miss Bury patted Gwen’s hand. “Come fetch me when the maid arrives to take us to luncheon. You know how tired a journey makes me.”
When the two of them were alone in Abigail’s room, Abigail said, “I also have to feel guilty about lying to sweet Miss Bury. Will it ever end?”
Gwen went to the tall windows, which spanned almost floor to ceiling. “If it helps you to know, I have heard old family stories that ‘sweet Miss Bury’ was wild in her day, but did not want to settle on just one man, so she never married.”
Abigail’s mouth sagged open. “Really?”
Gwen grinned wickedly. “Now you know why I asked her to chaperone.”
“And are you planning to follow in her wild footsteps?” Abigail asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Why, no, my dear, but you are. At least this week. Now let us pick out the perfect gown in which to greet our fellow guests.”
“And our hostess,” Abigail murmured, wondering about a woman so in love with a man that she left her homeland to live among intolerant strangers.
“It is a good thing we have each other,” Gwen was saying. “I did not want to bring a maid—who knows how many poor dears are crammed into the servants’ quarters for an event like this.”
“And the other reason you didn’t bring a maid?” Abigail prodded.
“Oh very well, because she would have known your true identity.”
Abigail only grinned and shook her head.
At last, their gowns were pressed, and the first maid arrived to show them to the drawing room. Miss Bury joined them in the corridor, looking refreshed and excited.
“Ah, to see the reclusive duchess is such a treat!” she whispered to her charges.
The drawing room was a bit more intimate than the intimidating great hall. There were still several clusters of furniture, but the guests had gathered before the intricately carved hearth, where naughty-faced angels held up the massive mantel. The ceiling was dominated by painted frescoes clustered above each chandelier.
A dozen or so guests openly or surreptitiously glanced at Abigail and Gwen as they arrived, and Gwen’s expression brightened with pleasure at the people she must already know. The guests were an interesting mix, from a fresh-faced girl wide-eyed with wonder at being newly come out, to an older gentleman wearing a frown that looked like it was etched into his face. Some were standing, some were sitting, but Abigail thought it was quite easy to pick out the duchess, seated on a sofa. The duchess had the deepest black hair, now threaded with silver, and the darker complexion that she’d passed on to her son. Seated beside her must be her daughter, Lady Elizabeth. The young woman had her mother’s black hair but the paler, peach skin of her father’s family. They each had dark eyes, with a strong nose in a handsome face. Where the duchess’s gown was conservative in color and cut, her daughter wore bright summer yellow. These were two women with whom Abigail would have to become well acquainted, in order to hear as much as she could about the duke.
Lady Elizabeth gestured subtly to Gwen, who took Abigail’s arm and led her straight to the duchess. Miss Bury trailed behind. Abigail didn’t need any prodding to curtsy at Gwen’s side.
