Page 29 of Doxy for the Ton
Madame Deliet, 55a St. James.
Give my name as a friend of the late Sir John Rex, and she’ll tend to you.
A.F.
“A.F.” She handed the note to Mrs. Hodge. “Who’s that?”
The housekeeper took it, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “That’s the duke.”
“I-I thought his name was Sawbridge.”
“That’s right. Alexander Ffortescue, fifth Duke of Sawbridge. And Madame Deliet is…”
“A modiste, I know,” Mimi said.
The housekeeper let out a huff. “It’s not my place, I know, but I confess I’m disappointed.”
“That a woman like me should be going to a modiste?”
“Bless you, no! I’m disappointed inhim, expecting you to go alone, and you unused to London! He usually accompanies all his other…” Her voice trailed off and she colored.
“You know him well?” Mimi asked.
“By reputation, though perhaps…” Mrs. Hodge glanced at the note again. “Perhaps he views you differently. Six months is a long time.”
Perhaps too long.
Focus on the prize, Mimi—the pot of gold at the end with which you can purchase your freedom.
“I’ll ask Wheeler to send the duke a message,” the housekeeper said.
Mimi shook her head. “Please don’t, Mrs. Hodge. The one lesson I’ve learned is the futility of asking a man to do anything he doesn’t wish to. As you say, he views me differently to the other women he’s…” She hesitated, her cheeks burning with shame.
“I know, my dear,” the housekeeper said. “I was going to ask that he give you the use of his carriage if he cannot accompany you himself.”
“I’d rather walk,” Mimi said. “I’ve no wish to grow dependent on his…generosity. Besides”—she glanced toward the window through which the winter sun shone—“a walk will give me a chance to familiarize myself with the area.”
The housekeeper nodded. “You’re a sensible young woman, and clever, I’ll warrant. Though we live in a world where intelligence in a female is to be criticized rather than applauded, I suspect it’s enabled you to survive. But I wouldn’t dream of your wandering about London unaccompanied. It’s not the done thing for a respectable widow of a knight. The late Sir John Rex would turn in his grave if he were to know I let you wander the streets alone. Charles can accompany you. He knows the way, and can carry any purchases you make.”
“Mrs. Hodge, I think we both know that Sir John was not…I mean, is not—”
“No sense in getting yourself upset, Lady Rex. I’m sure Sir John, wherever he may be in the world beyond, would want you taken care of, would he not?”
Mimi met her gaze, and her heart softened at the understanding in the older woman’s eyes.
Then the housekeeper opened the door and called out, “Charles?”
After a heartbeat, the young footman appeared. “Yes, Mrs. Hodge?”
“Would you accompany your mistress to St. James? Here’s the direction.” She handed him the note, then glanced toward the window. “And fetch my cloak—the wind has a bite this time of year. That is, if you don’t object, Lady Rex? I don’t want your catching cold in that thin gown on your first day in London.”
Blinking back tears at the housekeeper’s kindness, Mimi nodded. “I’d be obliged, thank you.”
“Well?” Mrs. Hodge demanded. “Don’t stand there staring, lad—you don’t want to keep the mistress waiting.”
“No, ma’am,” Charles mumbled, then scuttled off.
The housekeeper followed him with her gaze, an affectionate smile on her lips.
