Page 76 of Oddity of the Ton
Your Grace, may I take a look at the painting over the fireplace? His Grace tells me you know a great deal about it.
Was that how most people might open a discussion? A request intended not to offend, followed by comment intended to pacify her a little after the disastrous dinner.
But would the dowager think she was attempting to flatter her?
Oh dear!This was just the sort of occasion for which she needed Montague and his tutelage. He’d know precisely what to say.
Muffled laughter filtered through the hallway, and Eleanor exchanged a glance with Lavinia—her only ally in the dowager’s lair.
“The gentlemen seem to be enjoying themselves,” Lavinia said.
The dowager glanced pointedly toward Eleanor’s hand—the same hand with which she’d picked up the wrong fork during the main course. “They are, yes.”
“A-areyouenjoying yourself, Your Grace?” Eleanor asked.
The dowager swiveled her head, subjecting Eleanor to the full force of her sharp blue eyes. They were the image of her son’s, save for the tone—a glacial hue that sent a shiver through her blood, in sharp contrast to the heated gaze Whitcombe had tuned on her when they almost kissed at the stables.
“It’sDuchess, Miss Howard.”
“I-I beg pardon?” Eleanor stammered, and her coffee cup rattled against the saucer, no matter how tightly she gripped it. “I-I thought—”
“The first time you address a woman of my station, you say Your Grace, and thereafter you address me as Duchess. Didn’t your mother teach youanything?”
“No, I had a governess.”
If anything, Eleanor’s response angered the woman further.
“I think Her Grace’s question was rhetorical, Eleanor,” Lavinia said, coming to her rescue. “But, Duchess, I’m afraid I must contradict you.”
Sweet heaven!What was Lavinia trying to do—prod a viper?
“I beg pardon, Lady Marlow?”
“Miss Howard has yet to speak to you directly, Duchess. It’s only right that she addressed you as Your Grace just then.”
That, at least, was true. In fact, Eleanor hadn’t spoken more than two words during dinner—to thank a footman, which had earned a glare of disapproval from the dowager.
The door opened, and the men strode in. Marlow crossed the floor to sit beside Lavinia, while Whitcombe approached Eleanor.
“Did you notice the Stubbs, Miss Howard?” he asked.
Eleanor glanced about, aware of four pairs of eyes trained on her.
He offered his hand. “Let me show you.”
She took it, and he led her to the fireplace.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s definitely a Stubbs.”
“Ofcourseit’s a Stubbs!” the dowager cried.
Oh dear—she’d caused offense again. Could she never think of the right thing to say?
“Miss Howard spotted a fake Stubbs in London, Mother,” Whitcombe said, a hard edge to his voice. “She has an eye for these things.”
“Oh,doesshe?”
