A Trace of Roses

by Connolly, Lynne

  “You lived in town all year around?” the dowager duchess queried after she had taken two mouthfuls of the excellent roast lamb that was on offer.

  Dorcas finished her own mouthful.

  After a day spent in the orangery, pausing only for brief breaks, she was sharp-set and she’d have preferred to address her plate rather than the dowager duchess. “Indeed we did, ma’am.”

  Since Grant had called her “ma’am”, presumably it was all right for Dorcas, too. She could really use the help of their mentor in society, Lady Comyn, but she was at her own house, and agreed to meet them at Chatsworth later in the season.

  But with Grant, she had her own advisor. She’d have to make full use of him later.

  Glancing down the table, she caught him watching her. And the impact of what she’d just thought hit her. Hastily, she looked away again, but he smiled as she turned away. He knew.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” the dowager duchess asked.

  Dorcas stammered, confused by the question, her mind still full of that warm look her husband had given her. Full of promise.

  She was saved by Lord David. “Really, Mama, the Dersinghams aren’t the only people to make that choice! Dear Lady Joyce, your old friend, said she was planning to brave the City this year, all but a few weeks. And politicians return in the autumn to attend the last session of the year. Town is full most months.”

  “Yes, it is,” Dorcas said, relieved her pause had gone unnoticed. “We never lacked for company.”

  “And who did you entertain? You lived in the City, did you not?”

  “We did,” Dorcas confirmed. “We entertained our friends, mostly. We did not wish to move in society much, although we could have. Our lives were too full for that.”

  Lord David gave a quick laugh that made Dorcas want to smile in return. “Indeed, with three bluestockings in the family, you should not. Oh, I beg your pardon, I should not have said that.”

  “Not at all,” she said politely. Although she was aware the term bluestocking was used as an insult, she wasn’t afraid of it. “I am merely a horticulturalist. My sisters pursue more intellectual interests.”

  “You get your hands dirty,” the dowager duchess said.

  “And draw up plans, redesign gardens and landscapes.”

  The dowager duchess ate another morsel, her fork tinkling on the plate, barely touching it. Her table manners, like everything else about her, were exquisite.

  “Many people take an interest in horticulture and even agriculture. It is bringing in a great deal of profit.”

  “Interesting,” Lord David said. “Why, I daresay you could have restored our family as my brother has. I am beginning to see why you two are so well suited. Oh,” he said at Dorcas’ surprise, “I can see it. Most people can. You will make a formidable couple in time.”

  His mother busied herself with eating, selecting the best morsels with great concentration, reducing them to a tiny speck and only then popping it into her mouth. Exquisite manners. She must be starving to death, unless she was ordering extra up from the kitchen later.

  Dorcas, who spent a lot of time out of doors, ate heartily. The food here was good, better since Annie had introduced new ways of keeping the food warm. She’d done that last year, and now the staff was used to her ways. And they got to eat food that was still hot.

  Lord David kept up a flow of talk, inviting response, although he managed to make a meal much heartier than at first appeared. Dorcas watched him, her mind on discovering what was wrong in this family, the reason for Grant’s guarded response. She was a member of this family now.

  “My son has a great eye for flowers and arrangements,” the dowager duchess remarked to Dorcas. “Perhaps he can help you.”

  “Oh, but I have never studied the science of horticulture, Mama,” Lord David countered. Picking up his wine glass, he took a sip of ruby liquid, watching Dorcas over the rim. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. Of course, if I can be of any help at all, I’d be only too delighted, but my poor skills begin and end with knowing how well one color looks against another.”

  “A sense of aesthetics,” his mother added.

  “It has been of some solace to me,” Lord David admitted. “My disabilities, I admit, have been a source of confusion to some, and of unbearable pity to others.” He glanced at Grant, smiling, and lifted his glass in a silent toast. “I do not go out in society for that reason, although I can see I have missed a great deal. I might have to consider changing my mind.”

  Then he toasted Dorcas.

  Dorcas acknowledged the tribute with a nod and a smile. “You should go about more, I agree.”

  “But with so many stairs…” David spread his hands in an eloquent gesture. “And I have a dislike of people seeing me being carried. A foolish vanity, but it puts me at a disadvantage, I feel. And I cannot dance, evidently.”

  Dorcas understood the tragedy of sitting in a ballroom being ignored, but not how to cope with an inability, rather than a social awkwardness. Lord David had an abundance of charm, and an easy conversation his brother lacked.

  “Not everyone enjoys dancing,” she said, “and there are back stairs, if you do not want witnesses. I feel sure matters could be arranged.”

  “I have always told him that,” said the dowager duchess with a warmth Dorcas hadn’t noticed before. “Perhaps you could help him with that. Perhaps with a woman by his side, he could manage even better than he does already. There are people who would benefit from his presence. And marriage…”

  Lord David closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, then took a deeper sip of the wine. “That is hardly likely, Mama.”

  Dorcas suspected that the loss of his ability to walk had also rid him of his manhood. That would be a tragedy, indeed.

  “What woman would take me like this?” He laughed harshly. The wine in his glass had gone. He signaled for the footman to refill it, an imperious lift of one finger, without looking anywhere but at Dorcas. “Would you?”

  “If I loved you, of course I would.”

  “Do you love my brother?”

  “Yes.”

  What had she said? In effect, she’d declared her feelings for Grant for everyone to hear. She hadn’t meant to do it that way. She couldn’t look at him. Annie’s happy sigh was the only sound to disturb the silence that fell like a blanket over the table.

  The dowager’s voice cut through like a fork striking crystal. “I had not heard that sentiment had become fashionable. What does that have to do with maintaining the position of duke, Blackridge?”

  Grant gazed at her, no expression at all in his eyes. His mother had put him in an invidious position, of justifying his choice, explaining himself to her. He was a grown man. He couldn’t do that without demonstrating a deference to her.

  He lifted his glass, with far less elegance than his brother, but more intent. “Madam, my choice remains. I am happy with it, and so should you be. If you have any complaints, I prefer that you come to me first with them and speak plainly.”

  He sounded like he had a stick up his back, but that was all he could say. Anything else would have been inappropriate to say the least.

  Dorcas caught the expression on Lord David’s face. He did not seem pleased with his mother, but he said nothing.

  Since he spent more time with her than anyone else, he would know her best.

  He was an intriguing person, but she couldn’t make up her mind about him. He caught her looking at him and leaned back, so his mother could not see him. And grimaced. Only slightly but enough to tell her he did not approve of his mother’s tactics.

  A clever move. But did he not owe his mother loyalty?

  Grant wasn’t finished.

  He picked up his glass and gently swirled the wine in it, letting the facets of the crystal wink against the golden candlelight. Gently, he replaced it.

  The clink of knives and forks on plates accompanied him. “I’m here to conduct business on behalf of the estate. Once I�
�ve put the house I inherited from your aunt in order, Madam, I wonder if you would prefer to occupy it, rather than the dower house. That was one of my reasons for inviting you.”

  He smiled briefly at Annie. “When I found the house all but uninhabitable, I was grateful to Lady Carbrooke for inviting us here. I suggest, while you are here, that you visit the house. I’m dealing with the mine nearby, which is probably more prosperous than my great-aunt ever allowed it to be, but don’t let that affect your decision.”

  “What if I don’t like the house? And why do you assume that I will move to the dower house? Nobody has lived there for years. It’s far too outdated for my liking.”

  “I already offered it to my duchess. She had no such qualms, but I am sure she will give up her prior claim. You may, of course, furnish it as you wish. But the other house here, needs serious renovations. I would be willing to apply a budget to it and give you a free hand in its refurbishment. Only if you like the idea, of course. And you would have the most agreeable neighbors.”

  “What about David?” she demanded.

  “That is up to him,” Grant said, sparing his brother a glance. “Entirely. I’m waiting on his decision. But there’s time for him to make it.”

  And he went back to eating.

  The footmen entered, bringing in the next course. At Annie’s nod, they cleared the half-eaten dishes and replaced them with new ones. Also hot. Dorcas kept her eyes on an apple pie, satisfied when it was set down close to her place.

  “Gardening makes a person hungry,” the dowager duchess commented when a substantial slice of the pie was sitting in front of Dorcas.

  “Indeed,” Dorcas agreed happily. “But I spend a lot of time studying and sketching, as well.”

  “Watercolors?” There was no mistaking the relief in the dowager duchess’ voice. Watercolor sketches were a perfect occupation for a society lady.

  Dorcas was only too happy to explain. “Unfortunately, I’m not as gifted at botanical drawings as some people, but mine are in the nature of diagrams. Notes on the page, a hint of the way the plant grows, its preferred treatment, that kind of thing. Most of it is known already, which is why experimenting with newly discovered plants is so exciting.”

  The frost returned. “I see. But of course as duchess, you will have little time for such things.”

  “I want her to make time,” Grant said firmly. “She must continue with her work. In fact, I’ve sent to China and Africa for more specimens. I thought the rose bushes she’d ordered were dead.”

  “But they aren’t,” Dorcas continued happily. “I found a shoot today. I might be able to save them yet.”

  After a pause, Lord David said, “Congratulations. I would love to see your work. Might I visit you tomorrow?”

  “In the orangery?” Dorcas considered the advisability of pushing a wheeled chair and decided it was possible. The path to the building was reasonably smooth and wide enough to accommodate his chair. At present, Lord David occupied an ordinary dining chair, but his other chair stood by the wall, ready for him should he need it.

  As far as she could tell, this was the mysterious problem that prevented Lord David appearing in public.

  She had imagined some kind of half-monster, but she’d found an urbane, charming man with one defect. He wasn’t the only person in society who couldn’t walk.

  Why he chose not to appear puzzled her. No doubt, she would discover the reason in time, but she wanted to know now. It was part of the differences Grant had with his family.

  After dinner, the ladies left the men in the dining room and repaired to the drawing room.

  Annie took up her embroidery, not an occupation she relished, but it gave her something to do with her hands. Dorcas would happily have picked up a book, or brought her sketches down. She and Annie had found a great deal of pleasure pursuing their interests after dinner.

  Frequently, Annie would settle down with the orders from her business, or a catalog of the latest and most fashionable designs. But tonight, they were entertaining.

  The dowager duchess settled carefully on the grandest sofa in the room, without apparently noticing that it was.

  Her maid attended her, handed her a delicate piece of embroidery set in a tambour frame, with a basket of colorful silks.

  “I see we share an interest,” the dowager duchess said. “I am merely amusing myself with this. My last work was to design and sew a set of covers for the dining room at Blackridge Castle. You will see it soon, I believe, Duchess.”

  Dorcas took a few seconds before realizing the dowager was referring to her. After settling herself in an armless chair, the better to dispose her hooped skirts, she looked up, startled. “Ah, yes. Of course. I don’t know when Grant will want to go.”

  And if she had not completed her work, if her plants weren’t ready to be transported, he would be going on his own. But she didn’t say that aloud.

  “You will need guidance, my dear. Although my son believes you are ready to become his duchess, you have much to learn. He has no notion of the duties a duchess must undertake.”

  My dear? Was the woman rattled by Grant’s threat to make her live somewhere else?

  His suggestion had come as a relief and a concern for Dorcas. She didn’t want to live with her mother-in-law, but she didn’t want her to live so close to Annie, either. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the dowager, had only met her socially in London, but now she had to face the fact that they were part of the same family.

  The dowager duchess was probably in her mid-fifties, perhaps a little younger, and a well-preserved lady. She was tall, elegant, and a revered member of society who chose not to appear very often. Devoted to her sick son, people said, but they always talked about her in hushed voices. Formidable, they said.

  Well, she was that. And to the short, not elegant newcomer to society sitting opposite her, she would be an upstart, barely noticed. Until her son had married the upstart.

  Dorcas knew she was supposed to feel intimidated, cowed. But she would not. She utterly refused, however much it cost her, to be dominated by anyone. This family obviously had problems that went deep, but if she was forced into choosing sides, she did not hesitate.

  Grant every time. He had always told her the truth, never prevaricated, and she would ensure that he did it now.

  “I think I will manage, ma’am,” she said calmly, “but your offer of help is greatly appreciated. Did your mother-in-law, Grant’s grandmother, offer to help you?”

  “She did, and I was most grateful for it. Without her I might have made several gauche errors.”

  Dorcas feigned a laugh. “You, gauche? I cannot believe that, ma’am.”

  “If I may suggest that you cease calling your husband by his given name, especially in public. That may be seen by many to be gauche.”

  And so it began. Dorcas expected many little pokes like that one, criticisms that would undermine her confidence. Just because she chose to be different, that didn’t make her unconfident. Her sister, Damaris, had always felt that the most. Delphi and Dorcas simply had not cared. And still didn’t.

  Then the door opened and the men came in. “We decided not to linger over port,” Grant offered cheerfully.

  He was pushing his brother in his chair, the ever-present footman behind them, carrying a pair of canes. They had curved ends, and were not the slender canes of fashion, but sturdier, and with signs of wear on the handles and around the base.

  Grant stopped by an armless chair, the twin of the one Dorcas was using.

  She tried not to stare as Lord David took the canes from his attendant and used them to lever himself into the chair. The maneuver was awkward, but Lord David achieved it deftly. He must have done it many times before. So he could move his legs, but not support himself on them. He grimaced when he noticed Dorcas watching him. “I prefer not to use the wheeled thing all the time.”

  “If you need any special chair wherever you wish to go, pray let me know,” Annie said s
oftly. “You must treat this house as your own.”

  “You’re very kind,” his lordship said, his musical voice rippling over the senses. “Unfortunately, I will probably never have a house of my own. I live at the charity of my brother here. The entail gave him everything.”

  “It’s usual,” Grant answered. “And what I inherited was precious little. Dividing that wouldn’t have made sense. However, if you see a property that is to your fancy, let me know. I’ll deed it to you.”

  “There, you see?” Lord David spread his hands. “At the charity of my brother. Not that I do not appreciate his kind offers. I would be living on the streets, begging for a living, if not for him.”

  “I doubt that.” Annie, having pricked her finger again, pushed the needle through the fabric and dropped the mangled piece back into the sewing basket set by the unlit fire. She tutted, and dabbed her handkerchief on the small wound.

  Gerald laughed. “Give it up, dearest. You can’t be brilliant at everything.”

  Annie humphed, but exchanged a smile with her husband. “You’re far too fond. I can’t cook, either.”

  “I know,” he said with feeling.

  “What lady can?” the dowager duchess put in. That was true, but while always a lady, Annie had had to shift for herself in the past. The dowager’s words reminded everyone of that.

  “Some ladies can,” Lord David said. He smiled lightly, transforming his features into utter sweetness. “Lady Chillingham adores spending time in the still room.”

  “Drinking the gin of her own making,” the dowager duchess remarked. “She’ll go blind one day if she doesn’t take care.”

  So the two hermits took an interest in society’s doings. And believed the worst gossip. Lady Chillingham actually produced medical cures, distilled perfumes and so on. Many ladies enjoyed the ancient art of the still room. But quibbling with the dowager on every point would lead to an unbearable situation, so Dorcas let it be.

  As the evening wore on, Dorcas got the measure of the dowager duchess and her younger son. Lord David was handsome, charming, and expert at inserting little needles where they would fester later. His caveats and remarks seemed innocuous, but were far more insidious than the dowager’s statements. She was also devoted to Lord David. They formed a unit, blocking out Grant, even though he was nominally the head of the family.