Page 18 of The Duke Meets His Match

“Enter,” George said.

Talbot entered again holding a tray with the tincture and a glass of water.

“Thank you, Talbot,” George said. He swallowed the tincture and followed it up by drinking the entire glass of water, and then he stood. “I must speak to Evans. If Henshaw returns before I do, please notify me.”

“I will, Your Grace.” Talbot bowed slightly and, once again, left the room.

George stood behind his desk, hands on his hips, pondering the turn of events: Henshaw was nowhere to be found, George had received a summons to meet with the Prince Regent at court, of all things, and now he must go inform Evans to prepare his most formal attire for an unexpected appearance at Carlton House.

How would a young lady who was too afraid to speak or a young lady whogiggledcope in such a circumstance?

He shook his head and went to find Evans.

***

“Oh,good, you’re awake now,” Lady Walmsley said, setting her teacup down on its dish and dabbing at her lips with her napkin. “I wanted to allow you to rest for as long as you needed since you were so kind to allow me to drag you to Lady Bledsoe’s ball last evening—after just arriving in town, no less.” She waved at the side table. “I asked Mrs. Drake to prepare a hearty breakfast. I daresay you eat a hearty breakfast at home each morning—not that anyone would think such a thing by looking at you; you’ve a lovely figure, my dear—eggs, toast, kippers, sausage, beans. You’re going to need your strength today. I sent word to Madame Veronique that we would be stopping by her shop and to prepare for a large order of gowns.”

“Lady Walmsley,” Susan began, “I appreciate—”

“Tut, tut, girl,” Lady Walmsley said, interrupting her. “I will have my way on this. Fix yourself a plate, and quickly! I can hardly wait to see what we find for you. Madame Veronique’s gowns are in high demand—she has such an eye for helping ladies look their best. She will have no trouble with you whatsoever.”

“You are very kind, Lady Walmsley,” Susan said. She’d already helped herself to some of the scrambled eggs and toast and now decided to add a sausage to her plate. “But you will remember that I am not coming out this year—far from it! I have had three Seasons already, and that was years ago. No, I am more interested in witnessing the celebrations being held due to Napoleon’s impending defeat. It is history in the making.” It was a time for hope—the wars fought against France had been difficult and protracted.

She sat next to Lady Walmsley at the table as Lady Walmsley poured her a cup of tea. “Lemon? Milk?” Lady Walmsley asked.

“Milk, please,” Susan said.

“I know you are not a young bud waiting to blossom during your first Season, my dear. I am only too aware of the ups and downs life may send our way—nobody’s life is the same, and we do ourselves a disservice by believingotherwise. But I have discovered a joy in doting on young women such asyourself—perhaps it’s merely a motherly instinct within me that I forced to stay dormant when Walmsley and I weren’t gifted with children of our own. So I hope you will indulge me by allowing me to indulge you.”

Susan smiled and sipped her tea. “Very well. I shall try to behave and accept your generosity. But be warned—most likely, it will all go to naught, for if there was no gentleman who suited me all those years ago, it will be even less likely now. And if I think you are becoming excessive in your generosity, I intend to speak up.”

“Duly noted,” Lady Walmsley said, nodding. She took a final bite of kippers before setting her napkin aside and rising to her feet. “I shall inform Foster to call for a hackney to be here in a half hour’s time, if that pleases you. Or would an hour be better?”

“A half hour will be fine,” Susan said. “And, Lady Walmsley?” she added.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Thank you.”

Lady Walmsley patted Susan’s shoulder. “You are very welcome. This is going to be such fun! I can scarcely wait to begin.”

The idea of having Lady Walmsley spend so much money on her had caused Susan’s appetite to vanish, and so in no time at all she had finished breaking her fast and had joined Lady Walmsley in the parlor, where she had been awaiting the arrival of the hackney.

“Oh, there it is!” Lady Walmsley exclaimed, peering out the parlor window. “Let’s be off, then!”

Susan followed as Lady Walmsley hurried out of the parlor. Foster already had the front door open for them, and soon, they were inside the hackney and on their way to Oxford Street.

“I must warn you,” Lady Walmsley said, “that Madame Veronique is decidedlynotFrench, as you will clearly recognize the minute you hear her accent.But,” she added with emphasis, “as a modiste, she is so talented that her customers do not care where she came from. She has such an eye ...” Lady Walmsley studied Susan carefully. “I can’t wait to see what she envisions for you. You aresucha beauty.”

“Hardly that,” Susan replied. She knew her flawed features only too well: her thick, curly hair that refused to be tamed, with brows to match, a dab of a nose, and a mouth much bigger than the little rosebud lips she noticed on other ladies wherever she went, and eyes frequently hidden behind reading glasses because she always had her nose in a book.

The hackney turned onto Oxford Street, and Susan could see Madame Veronique’s modiste shop up ahead.

“We are nearly there,” Lady Walmsley said. “So, my dear Miss Jennings, allow me to offer a final word of advice before we go inside the shop. You area clever woman—that much is obvious to everyone who meets you—yourintellect fairly shines from your face at all times and cannot be mistaken for what it is. But you are doing yourself a disservice if you refuse to allow your cleverness and your beauty to coincide peacefully together within you. You do not have to be one or the other, Miss Jennings—and I suspect that is what you have been doing, perhaps for quite some time.” She paused briefly. “But here I am, rattling on and on when we have shopping to do.”

The hackney had come to a stop during Lady Walmsley’s speech, and the driver had already opened the door and was waiting to assist them.

As Susan followed Lady Walmsley from the carriage, she pondered what hernew companion had said. It hadn’t really crossed her mind that she might bechoosing her intellect over her appearance. She’d always taken what she thoughtto be appropriate consideration with her appearance. She was definitely morecomfortable with her intellect, however. She had begged Papa to allow her to be included when her older brothers, Isaac and James, had been with their tutors. Papa had resisted at first, but he’d finally relented. Mama had told her it did not excuse her from learning a proper lady’s skills—needlework, music, art, and the like—which had suited Susan fine, as she’d enjoyed learning those things too, except, perhaps, the needlework. She could sew if it were absolutely necessary, but she’d choose nearly anything else over needlework.

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