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Darrius was still having a hard time reconciling this new-found creature with the stiff, painted lady with the fashionably tiny waist, who had graced his mother’s dining hall just a week or so ago.

“Why don’t we give it a month or two more?” he suggested. “As I walk with you today, I feel that we have not truly met since that summer when you pushed me into the fountain, and later on the same day, thwacked me with a cricket bat.”

“Oh, you have met me,” Blanche said. “You just did not look beneath the fashionable facade we are taught to cultivate in finishing school. I am glad that the Duchess has written to my mother. She has done nothing but mope since the doctor’s pronouncement.”

“Does my mother’s friendship mean so much to her?” Darrius asked.

“I think it must. I will admit I had no idea that there was anything more between them than the usual rivalry between society ladies.”

At this point, they were interrupted by a footman. The fellow stood a respectful distance away, and bowed to them.

“Yes?” Blanche asked.

“Lady Carleton has read the letter, Miss Notley, and she is ready to send a reply. If he can see his way to manage it, she would like to send it back with His Grace.”

“His Grace would be pleased to act as messenger boy between his mother and her friend, Lady Carleton,” the Duke said.

When they re-entered the drawing room, Lady Carleton greeted them with a smile. “I am delighted to accept your mother’s gracious apology. I fear I also acted badly, and I have written a reply. Will you be kind enough to carry it to her?”

“That is a duty I will gladly undertake,” Darrius replied. He accepted the sealed letter, and slid it into his coat pocket.

After a few more social exchanges, he took his leave of the ladies, climbed into the despised elderly coach, and made his way back toward Tolware.

I am all at sea. How could merely washing the coating from her face make such a change in Blanche? More than that, what should I make of the revelation that her dowry shall be tied up in funds for some years to come? Upon our marriage, my creditors will expect some sort of payment. How can I eke meaningful amounts, needed repairs, a decent wardrobe, and proper coach out of the quarterly income?

Do I wish to part with this newly revealed Blanche? What can I offer her now that will keep her by my side?

Chapter 29

August brought the first flurry of harvest, and saw the cast removed from Evelyn’s foot. Those were the two bright spots of the month.

Mayson despaired of finding enough root vegetables intact to cook a meal fit for guests. The tithes from the farms would be delivered in a day or two, so no one was in danger of starving. The crops had flourished, and the villagers were holding dances and other celebrations almost nightly. Meanwhile, Mayson and the cooking staff were busy hauling out and either cooking or throwing away the remnants of last year’s provisions.

In the name of frugality, it was his job to convert these last remnants into something edible while overseeing the clearing and cleaning of the cellars so as not to spoil the new crops. As he arranged slices of neeps, carrot, and onion in a baking dish, he heard the welcome sound of Evelyn’s light slippers on the stairs.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson,” he heard her call.

Wilson’s reply was a vague grumble. Although the elderly butler was not expected to dust out the butlery himself, he had bestirred himself to lend a hand with checking and turning the bottles. As the only staff member truly able to judge whether wine was likely to still be good, the venerable fellow was nearly as smudged and tired as the below-stairs staff. It was grave testimony to the household’s labors, for Wilson prided himself on being impeccably turned out at all times.

The household’s five footmen were kept busy running upstairs and down, with occasional forays into town for such small supplies as could not be found in the storerooms. If all this were not enough, the Duchess had Evelyn running all over the house making certain that every room was spotless and impeccably presentable.

The occasion? Lord and Lady Carleton were expected for dinner. It was unclear to Mayson why this particular dinner should be so much more important than any other dinner that had been served to their neighbors. Evelyn had tried to explain it to him, but he finally shook his head and commented, “I will certainly do my best to turn out a fine meal for them. But Evelyn, this seems almost like a schoolgirl spat between friends.”

“I think you have the right of it, Mayson,” she had replied. “While having pretended to despise each other all these years, in the end the Duchess and Lady Carleton are nearly the last of their circle of friends. Who else can they turn to but each other? I am relieved that they are making up. Just think how lonely it would be for both of them if they were to go through the rest of their lives without a single friend.”

Mayson had opened his mouth to reply, but they had been interrupted and were both pulled away to their duties.

During the last few days it had been difficult for the two of them to meet. Even their half-days had been shortened, thanks to the need to train Jemmy in the finer details of running a kitchen, and having to keep an eye on Mr. McElroy who tended to carry on as if he were a whole man. It would have been admirable save that it caused a need to rescue him from his own efforts on more than one occasion.

“I hope you have something uplifting for Her Grace,” Evelyn said. “She is in quite the flurry of anticipation, and keeps sorting through her special treasures, trying to decide what she should use to spark scintillating conversation.”

“I’m afraid I have only an ordinary sort of tea,” Mayson replied ruefully. “Nearly the last of the black India tea, and some sweet biscuits colored with beet juice.”

“Are the biscuits in shapes?” Evelyn asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Tulips,” Mayson replied. “Her Grace’s favorite flower, I believe.”

“Those should do very well,” Evelyn reassured him. “The tea will help uplift her spirits. She is so worried that Lady Carletane will not be impressed with the evening meal.”