Page 58 of His Haunted Duchess
Esther entered. Philip sprang to his feet and bowed. Caroline, a little more slowly, likewise rose and curtsied.
“Everywhere I go I hear some tale of you, dear,” Esther said. “May I join you for tea?”
“Of course.” Philip rang for Carlyle, who provided them with a spare plate, cup, and saucer. Caroline settled back into her seat and refilled her own cup. Esther sipped gratefully.
“I was saying, Your Grace, that everywhere I go I hear some tale of you and your visits.”
Caroline’s heart jumped to her throat. The stories of her past ensnared the imagination and attention of more acquaintances than she liked. Esther added a small pat of butter to a golden crumpet.
“Oh yes—it’s ‘the duchess said such and such’ or ‘the duchess thinks so and so’ no matter where I’ve been.” A smile crept over her face. “You seem to be making quite an impact, dear.”
Caroline blushed with pleasure. It meant, perhaps, more to her than it should that the dowager duchess approved of her. It was even more gratifying to hear that others did as well.
“I am gratified by the good report, madam,” she said. “I have—I really have made an effort to be as bold a duchess ought.”
“You weren’t always?” Philip asked, surprised.
Caroline laughed.
“Not externally at least. I’ve a dreadful fear of people and places when it comes upon me—but a duchess doesn’t have time to answer all of her correspondence, much less to be afraid.”
Philip looked thoughtful.
“There are some, of course—” Esther said with some asperity and a spirited whack of the butter knife, “who insist on purveying hackneyed rumors, but they are few and far between.”
Caroline rubbed her fingers over the glove covering her scarred hand.
“But come!” Esther said, picking up another crumpet. “Pray tell me what happier topic you were discussing before I entered. Something, if I might also be so bold, about the ball?”
“Indeed! Caroline doesn’t—” Philip caught himself. Esther’s eyes narrowed. Caroline shifted in her seat.
“I’m not inclined to attend. It’s—I?—”
Caroline blushed. Esther’s eyes flicked knowingly. Caroline wondered if Esther’s mind was equally thrown back to that fateful night in the garden when she and her son had crossed paths, and how the future might have been different. Esther took an inscrutable and deliberate sip of tea.
“All the better!” Philip spread a layer of jam across his crumpet and sunk his teeth into it. “The last time you danced with Frederic was at your wedding.”
“Surely it hasn’t been that long?”
The duke’s voice carried from the doorway. Caroline jumped. Esther raised her teacup in salute.
“Frederic! We weren’t expecting you until this evening. And how did you find the marquess?”
Frederic entered, his hands behind his back.
“As well as always, I suppose.”
Esther heaved a slight sigh of frustration at his uninformative response.
“And Lady Felicity? Was she in good health?”
Frederic smiled wryly.
“Very. She spent much of the engagement speaking of a recent visit to Bath and extended an invitation for you to join her there at your leisure.”
He looked past Esther to Philip’s stuffed cheeks and confused glower and then to Caroline. He bowed slightly. She nodded in acknowledgement then busied herself with arranging the teapot. Philip, in the meantime, had finally swallowed his crumpets.
“Won’t you join us, too, Frederic?” he asked. “We were just talking of the final ball of the Season, and we know you could convince Caroline to go.”
