Page 27 of Oddity of the Ton
“Shall we, Miss Howard?” The duchess smiled and offered her arm.
Eleanor nodded her thanks and took it.
“Your sister seems good friends with Lady Arabella,” the duchess said as they entered the drawing room, where footmen were already serving coffee to the ladies.
“Y-yes,” Eleanor replied. “I believe they’re best friends.”
“And you?”
Eleanor shook her head. “I have no friends. At least, none here tonight.”
“A situation I must remedy.”
“Oh no!” Eleanor cried. Then she winced at her outburst as several pairs of eyes fixed their gazes on her. “I-I mean—Forgive me—I’ve no wish to…”
Her voice trailed away. Propriety dictated that shenotcomplete her sentence.
I’ve no wish to pursue a friendship with anyone here.
The duchess arched an eyebrow, then glanced about the room. Her gaze fell on Juliette and Arabella whispering together in a corner. Then she nodded.
“Of course, my dear. To consider someone a friend, one must have something in common with them. Next time I include your family in an invitation, I’ll make sure your particular friend—Miss de Grande, I believe?—is able to come. Or Lady Marlow, as she is now. My husband is well acquainted with Lord Marlow.”
The duchess paused, as if anticipating a reply. But Eleanor couldn’t think of anything to say, other than “oh.”
The duchess smiled. “Quite so,” she said. “I was merely making conversation. A rather odd phrase, isn’t it—makingconversation—when all one does is utter inane remarks with nothing of any real import to say? I find such a habit tiresome, do you not?”
“Oh,yes,” Eleanor said. “I’ve always failed to understand the necessity of making a bland speech about the weather, who knows whom, who’s a member of which ladies’ club, or whether private parties are to be preferred over a public ball. Why say anything at all if there’s nothing to say?”
The duchess laughed, then led Eleanor toward the coffee table. “Have some coffee.” She nodded to a footman, who filled a cup and handed it to Eleanor.
“Thank you,” Eleanor said. The footman smiled and gave a stiff bow.
“And…a piece of marzipan?” the duchess asked, gesturing toward the bright array of sweets.
“I don’t know…” Eleanor glanced toward her mother, who only that evening had warned her about the damage sweet things could do to her figure.
“Just one won’t do any harm,” the duchess whispered. “Almonds are known to have restorative properties. I have iton good authority that marzipan does more good than harm. Please, I insist.”
“Very well.” Eleanor plucked a piece from the display. The surrounding pieces shifted, and one slipped from the arrangement and landed on the floor.
“Oh, forgive me!” she cried. The duchess raised her hand.
“There’s naught to forgive, Miss Howard. I know of one member of my family who’ll thank you for your consideration.” She crouched down, picked up the piece, and brushed it with her fingers. Then she handed it to the footman. “Would you have this sent to Gargantuan, please, James, with Miss Howard’s compliments?”
“Very good, Your Grace.” The footman bowed, took the marzipan piece, and exited the room.
“Gargantuan?” Eleanor asked.
“My pug. He was the runt of the litter, so I deemed his name something of a consolation, and, as it transpired, it’s an appropriate name, given his appetite.”
“I love pugs,” Eleanor said, “though I’ve not been permitted…”
She stopped herself mid-sentence. How many times had Mother told her not to speak of family matters in public?
The duchess appeared not to notice her faux pas. She placed a hand on Eleanor’s arm and smiled. “A pity,” she said. “My instinct tells me you’d be an ideal mistress for a pug.”
Footsteps approached, and Eleanor heard a familiar voice.
