Page 76 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

Fourteen

The gentleman who strolled into the Deeping drawing room the next morning was that paragon of fashion and elegance, the Duke of Tereford in full glory. Ned had done quite well with the boots, using tips about Hobbs’s practices from the woman who provided James’s rooms. He’d also proved adept with a flatiron, as promised. The intricate neckcloth was all James’s achievement, of course. But Ned had done well with his hair. He’d also been greatly impressed by the result of their efforts.

James found Cecelia’s four new friends waiting as he had requested. He also found no one else, which was a relief. He’d been scheming over how to be rid of a crowd of duennas and had not developed a satisfactory plan. When greetings had been exchanged, he said, “I have come to discuss Miss Vainsmede’s situation. It is not quite proper for me to…”

“We don’t care about that,” interrupted Charlotte Deeping. “We want to help.”

“Cecelia is being exceedingly brave,” said Miss Ada Grandison.

“Perhaps because she has nothing to be ashamed of?” replied Harriet Finch dryly.

James decided that he liked the redheaded girl more than he’d thought. “Henry told me you wished to help,” he said.

“We do,” said Miss Finch. “But there are difficulties.”

James raised his eyebrows.

“We’ve all been ordered to avoid being seen with her too often,” said Sarah Moran with a woeful expression. “Our mothers say that if there is even a hint that she is an unsuitable companion…”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Charlotte Deeping.

“We intend to defy them,” added Miss Grandison.

“Wewishto do so,” said Miss Finch. “We would be happy to do so. But if we all disobey our parents to sneak out and visit Cecelia… That may not do her any good.”

“She could be accused of inspiring impropriety and rebellion,” said Sarah Moran gloomily.

“Which we are not permitted to exhibit,” muttered Ada Grandison.

James had not foreseen this obstacle. Matters had gone further and faster than he’d expected. Fury at Prince Karl burned through him.

“Also, we are not allowed to defend her in conversation,” said Charlotte Deeping, who looked bitterly angry. “Because we are not supposed to know about ‘such things.’ I tried to tell Lady Harte that the story wasn’t true, and she had a nervous spasm.”

“She is a foolish widgeon,” said Harriet Finch.

“Who relishes her spasms,” added Ada Grandison.

“I know,” replied Miss Deeping. “But that does not alter the situation.”

James realized that he hadn’t quite understood the limitations young ladies labored under. Clearly they had thought this through, and he had not. “I see,” he said. It seemed he must abandon this line of assistance. But he wanted a plan to offer before he called on Cecelia.

“Lady Wilton wants to help,” said Miss Moran. “And she can do as she pleases.”

And thus it was that James found himself, half an hour later, at the door of his grandmother’s house, an address he’d been told he visited far too seldom.

He knocked, was admitted at once, and followed a footman up to the drawing room. He wondered if this was the same servant who’d been sent to Tereford House to find him. He might have asked if not for a slender hope of preserving his refuge for the future.

The old lady already had morning callers, and James’s arrival caused a stunned silence, and then a murmuring sensation. Two elderly women and a matron with a debutante daughter in tow gazed at him as if he’d appeared in a magical puff of smoke.

“Tereford,” said Lady Wilton.

“Hello, Grandmamma.”

“How pleasant to see you. You know everyone, of course.” She nevertheless named her guests. The sardonic glint in her eye told James that she knew he’d forgotten half of them. He made his bow and took the chair he was offered.

“You are fully recuperated?” asked the matron.

James frowned at her, at a loss. Had his grandmother spread some tale of an illness?

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