Page 27 of His Haunted Duchess
“Winifred?”
“My lady’s maid.” Lady Caroline blushed. Esther nodded. Even before the scandalous event, she had heard—cursorily, of course—about Viscountess Olivia’s young, isolated ward. The poor thing had little more than Lady Olivia and a monkey for civilized company.
“I see. Fortunately, my business today—as I’m sure you’ve guessed—has to do primarily with you.”
Lady Caroline blushed. Her heightened color suited the dramatic contours of her face. Esther tried not to show too much admiration. If not for her scar, however, this lady would have been one of the diamonds among the peerage.
“Lord Blackmore told me that you had accepted his proposal. That is true, I suppose?”
A shadow of anxiety flitted across Lady Caroline’s face. Young and impressionable still. Good. She’d be able to work with that. It could prove useful in preparing her, gently but firmly, for her important role.
“I was—” Lady Caroline folded her hands in her lap. “I was grateful to accept the duke’s offer yesterday.”
Lady Caroline smiled shyly. Her face softened when she did, heightening the contours of her skin. Excellent. Perhaps that could be used to do something about that lurid scar. The Duchess of Blackmore set her reticule next to her on the couch.
“I am here,” Esther continued, “to help you plan the day of your union—the wedding and other such arrangements—and to prepare you for your future role as a duchess.”
“That is very considerate of you, madam. I should be glad for your help and to get to know you a little better.”
Inwardly, Esther congratulated her. She had been led to believe—if not by rumor then definitely by sparse fact—that Lady Caroline was a recluse in more than just the lonely sense of the word. After all, she rarely went into society and therefore must be awkward in it. She was pleased to discover the lack of truth in those rumors. If only the entire situation could be resolved so easily. The barest hint of a sigh dipped from her lips.
Caroline pulled the bell at her elbow.
“Perhaps, Your Grace, you would care for some tea while we discuss? Or other refreshment?”
“I would, thank you.”
Esther inclined her head. A servant brought tea—toasted rolls with a bit of light-colored jam and small, tasty morsels of plum cake. Lady Caroline graciously presided over the whole. Esther smiled into her cup. This mysterious lady was accustomed to playing hostess and not at all embarrassed. That would serve her well in the days to come.
The repast, in due course, was consumed. Lady Caroline sipped frugally at her tea and consumed only half of a biscuit, but whether from inclination or nerves, the dowager couldn’t ascertain. This lady must have some sore spot—some weakness. It was Esther’s duty to sniff it out, to inure her daughter-in-law to be against less well-meant sallies against her character.
Her son—miraculously, it suddenly seemed—had embroiled himself in a scandal with a lady of at least decent, if not superior, quality. Time would only tell.
“Oh, thank you—it’s a particular favorite of mine. Please, take another bit.”
Caroline gestured to the plate of plum cake. Would she ever, after the stress of this interview, be able to eat plum cake again? She wanted to run back to her room and hide. Perhaps it might have been easier to accept the heap of scandal and retreat into ignominy.
As unaccustomed as she was to visitors—especially polished, noble ones—her nerves felt wrung out like a wet rag. She managed, however, to serve the tea without spilling the pot everywhere which was a small mercy, and she also answered most of the dowager’s questions with composure which was a much larger one.
“And how did you leave the duke today, Your Grace?” Caroline asked.Oh dear. What that too forward?She hoped the duchess did not think her impertinent, inquiring so boldly after her son after all that had happened. The Duchess of Blackmore did not appear to notice.
“The duke was very well, thank you. He’s anxious for your forthcoming union.”
Caroline’s heart jumped. Was he really? He had kissed her hand when he left. The warmth that rose from her blush could have replaced the living room fire.
The duchess was still speaking. “It will be a suitable situation for both of you, I believe.”
Caroline checked her feelings which had started if not to run wild at least to make alarming gestures toward doing so. It was a marriage of convenience, she told them, a doorway for both of them out of a desperate situation.
The duchess sipped at her tea. “The list to prepare for the wedding is quite extensive. Where shall I begin?”
“Wherever suits, Your Grace. I assume you have specific preparations in mind?”
Caroline folded both of her hands in her lap to steady them.
“First, of course, we must set the date for the union. I assume you already had a time, or at least a preferred location?”
“In all honesty, Your Grace, considering the suddenness of the proposal?—”
