Her Lady's Whims and Fancies: Sweet Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 3)

by Jen Geigle Johnson

  “Your . . . regard?”

  Logan mumbled around in his mind. Regard. Why had he said regard? “My . . . esteem?” He cleared his throat. Their time together would be ending soon. “For I have the highest respect for your own style choices. Your hair is the most fantastic I’ve seen. Your dress, the lining at your neck, equally clever and enticing. Your whole manner of presentation is the result of great study, and while I’m unsure why you spend so much effort on these pursuits, they are hardly any to be ashamed of. I know many a person who engages himself in more ridiculous notions.” He was thinking primarily of himself. Though he had his own reasons.

  There, he’d apologized. Hopefully, she could start to feel less hurt by his words, and he could move on to cards with his friends, in another room.

  But she didn’t say anything for several measures of their music. When at last she raised her chin again so that he might see into her face, she presented a mask he could no longer read. “You do know your jacket cut is falling out of mode,” she said.

  He stood taller. “Pardon me?”

  “For someone who claims to make a study of fashion, surely you have noticed, the cut of your jacket, it’s so last week.”

  The music ended. Miss Kate curtseyed and turned from him to make her way back to her sisters. Logan followed after her softly tinkling slippers and considered her words. Last week? He resisted looking at his own jacket to be sure of its cut. He knew it well enough. And it was most definitely not last week’s fashion. Though he hadn’t given thought to the cut of his jacket. Were not all jackets made the same? But what if he were to adjust the cut? Think of the havoc he would wreak on all unsuspecting lords as they scrambled to make their cuts match. His grin started slow and grew before he remembered that his lovely dance partner had just insulted him and was walking away in a small version of a huff, back toward her family.

  Well, his apology might not have been accepted, but at least he’d apologized. Now to see if the other sisters would care to dance. Miss Kate’s refusal to give him any further attention as he approached rankled somewhat, even though he told himself he didn’t care one more whit about her.

  Chapter Four

  Kate couldn’t believe Lord Dennison’s audacity. To bring up again his rude comments, to accuse her of eavesdropping. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she’d even heard his ridiculous, hypocritical comments. No. Her mind raced to think what she could draw next, that would push the boundaries of fashion even further. Ridiculous, indeed. Not so ridiculous when others read her and followed her suggestions. She’d show him just how un-frivolous her focus on fashion would be.

  How unfair to be judged so. When her initial aim was to support her family and keep food on their table? What was his purpose in being utterly fashion ridiculous?

  Of all the empty-headed, superficial activities for any lord. Could he not focus more on his voting in the House of Lords? On his tenants? On any such thing? She knew she was sounding quite like him in her own judgment. But to be spoken of in so poor a manner as he had by one who behaved in the same manner still rankled, and greatly so. Was she bound to forgive his weak and accusatory apology? Not anytime soon.

  The evening passed in a pleasant enough manner. Kate danced more sets than she ever had. And heard more times than she could count that people would be coming calling. Which she encouraged every chance she could. A study of their clothing choices, particularly the extra accoutrements, was important to her right now. What did they carry with them? And how could she write about such things for Whims and Fancies?

  The last of the guests were preparing to leave, and June and Morley stood at the door, embracing each of Kate’s sisters. She held back a moment with great satisfaction, studying each dress, each fold of fabric, the colors, and June’s dress. A masterpiece.

  “If only Morley had taken as much care as you sisters have.” His voice rolled through her in an irritated pleasure that annoyed her further.

  “I imagine he has better things to do than overly concern himself with his appearance.”

  “Obviously.” Lord Dennison’s lazy expression hid a wit she guessed was as sharp as the lines of his jacket, which she greatly appreciated. She had only taken a jab at him because she could think of nothing else.

  “I think he is a nice foil against the bright and forward-thinking dresses.”

  “I admit to admiring that image. They make a perfectly pleasing painting.”

  She would not forgive him for speaking her very thoughts out loud and approached her sisters without another glance in his direction. They all came together in a grand embrace, Morley’s arms around her back, the closeness filling her with strength. “Have an incredible trip,” Kate said.

  “We will. And we shall miss you all terribly.” June’s eyes welled.

  “Oh, no. No tears. We shall be splendid. And the last of the castle renovations just might be complete.”

  “The last?” Morley shook his head. “Oh no. We have even greater plans for that imitable castle.”

  Grace giggled. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  They separated and moved to the door, where each sister raised a handkerchief in the air as the carriage moved away.

  Theirs pulled up next.

  She felt Dennison’s eyes on her, and she refused to acknowledge him.

  “Goodbye, Lord Dennison! Thank you for our dance,” Grace called back over her shoulder. “He’s watching you.” Her smaller murmur in Kate’s ear brought her hairs on end in a warm, inviting gooseflesh like she’d never experienced.

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t you bid him farewell?”

  “Because he is the most pompous, arrogant, self-centered man of my acquaintance.” She climbed in after her sisters.

  “Well, then.” Grace smiled.

  Kate didn’t expect Grace would smile were she to hear what he had said about her, and the weak and accusing apology. But Kate didn’t dare repeat his words. They were painfully, fearfully true, she suspected, and to see for a moment in her sisters’ eyes their own agreement would be too much.

  Her mind turned instead to her drawings and her plans for Her Lady’s Whims and Fancies. A delicious plot of revenge tried to niggle its way into her plans. She pushed it aside. She would not stoop. As her fingers toyed with the ribbons on her dress, she considered. But she could discuss Lord Dennison, not by name or course. Because his fashion choices would be the most talked about of the month. Her own personal feelings aside, he was important to their readership.

  Sleep came easily even though the castle felt strangely bereft without June’s presence. The next morning found Kate in the library with a tray for breakfast, looking over her sketches. Pleased with the results of her hours of work this morning, she rose and stretched. One last sip of her tea, though cold, and Kate was ready for the day’s callers. These visitors would no doubt give her more information to use in next month’s Whims and Fancies. Because of the lateness of the hour after the ball, she was not expecting anyone until later in the afternoon, so she made her way through the castle.

  She loved to go to the as yet unfinished parts to drink in the history of the place. They had found jewels and necklaces from William the Conqueror to his descendants. And every one of them wondered just how they fit into that particular family line. Kate smiled, thinking of dear Morley’s wedding gift. What a perfect present, and it had looked so well on June at the ball.

  As Kate walked, the walls grew more crumbly and faded, the stone older, the smell more ancient. That was the only way to describe it. Old. And Kate loved every bit of it. Had her family lived in this castle? Had they built it originally? What ancestors called to her from these walls? As her fingers ran along the stone, she moved to the section of walls that had most recently been closed off. She passed them and found her way into some of the older rooms in the house. Grace spent large amounts of time in this part of the castle. Her younger, adventurous self was drawn to it. They had yet to explore old t
runks and crates. And they had not yet looked through the old furniture, either.

  Kate often found treasures in these rooms. The desk she used for her drawings had been in one of these rooms. She stepped into an older, more dusty space. Something about being with so many items that had been around longer than she helped her put life in perspective. Was there something in these rooms that would help her know more about herself? Just breathing the musty air seemed to strengthen her center. The back corner was filled with furniture, covered in white. But it was the other corner that drew her attention. Old crates they’d only just begun to explore stacked high to the ceiling. June’s book treasures were slowly beginning to fill their library. And Kate had seen something that drew her eye last time, something she wanted to explore.

  Dresses.

  The particular crates she had expressed interest in had been opened for her. Bless their servants. She would never discount the great gift it was to have servants.

  As she lifted the first gown, wrapped in linen, she held her breath. Judging by the fabric, it was old, very old. A sense of awe surrounded her as she considered the last person to wear it, the hands that had carefully tucked it away. Her fingers gently feathered over the front of the ancient silk, the embroidery still intact, the greens and browns fascinating to Kate. Colors no one wore now. How interesting. What determined fashion and style? If it were anything like the ton now, the slightest whim written on a fashion plate or worn by someone of significance was enough to send the wealthiest among them seeking out similar styles.

  This crate and perhaps others were a treasure. Kate would be back to look through every single garment. But now, she knew their callers would start arriving, and she must prepare herself and alert the others.

  After much cajoling to drag Charity from her bed and to convince the others of the importance of imminent guests, four Standish sisters sat in their front receiving room, with tea at their fingertips.

  “I should have liked some of cook’s eggs,” Grace moaned. “Am I to subsist on cakes and tea?”

  “If you’d arisen earlier, you could have eaten any number of things.” Kate rested a hand on her younger sister’s. “But we were up so awfully late. I quite understand.”

  “We can’t be here for too long at any rate. How many are going to come call, really?” Lucy sat precisely upright—the only indication she was anything other than perfectly composed was the tapping of her toes.

  Right on the dot, at the awfully dull hour of three in the afternoon, Butler Gibbons announced their first caller. “A Lord Dennison to see you.”

  Kate gasped before she could stop herself. And the others all turned to her in different reactions of surprise.

  “What? I didn’t think he’d come.” Kate adjusted her skirts that were already perfectly situated and then stood with her sisters.

  They all curtseyed in unison.

  Lord Dennison entered with a flair. His shoes were more sensible. The hessians tall and reflective in their shine. His cravat what Kate would consider the paragon of afternoon calling cravats, a simple Oriental. His breeches fit to perfection. And his jacket. She laughed to herself. His yellow jacket with beautiful purple and jade embroidery was something to behold.

  His ready smile and much more jovial nature made him all the more appealing. All of which Kate tried to ignore.

  “And Lord Ballustrade.”

  Her gaze shot up to the man who stepped in at Lord Dennison’s side. He bowed with a double circle of his hands, his head nearly touching his knees, then arose.

  One of the most celebrated male fashion experts of their day. This visit would be intensely interesting after all, especially if she could all but ignore the handsome Lord Dennison.

  Surprisingly, Lord Ballustrade was dressed in black. A white cravat, simply tied, adorned his neck. She looked twice to be sure nothing extra adorned his breeches or boots or anything. Surprised at such a simple outfit, she settled back into what she expected—a normal visiting hour. But when he arose and turned so that his vest became more visible, she widened her eyes at the brightly colored band across his middle. She craned her neck to get a better look. Charity nudged her, and she righted herself.

  Lord Dennison’s eyebrow rose in amusement.

  The sisters arose from their curtseys, and then Charity indicated the empty seats. “Please join us for tea. We’re so happy you have come.”

  Lord Ballustrade made his way to the opposite side of their seating, much to Kate’s frustration. She couldn’t speak to him as an aside very comfortably, but she could look at him, and that would help with her drawings. And then, while she was attempting to get a good look at the man’s hessians, Lord Dennison sat at her side.

  “Perhaps I have made amends?”

  When she turned to him, his face was so close, she moved back a touch, but not before all the flecks of light, the yellows and light blues in his eyes, sparkled at her.

  “Amends?”

  “Certainly. I have brought the paragon of fashion, the expert himself, to your receiving room. Surely, that amends something?” His tone was light, but his voice held a quality to it that made her search his eyes once more. The varying color once again fascinating her observant gaze.

  “I am . . . I’ll be honest . . . quite intrigued.” Her gaze moved once again to Lord Ballustrade.

  “Ask me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Ask me what you would ask him. I am certain to know what he would say.”

  She hesitated.

  “His vest is hand-embroidered by his tailor,” Lord Dennison continued.

  She nodded. “I guessed as much.”

  “He will be touting a whole series of these new vests through the rest of the season. His launch of the idea is to be this week in Brighton. Your home is the first we’ve been.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “We are the very first.” She looked from Lord Ballustrade, who was deep in conversation with Lucy, and back to Lord Dennison.

  “You are.”

  She itched to take out her papers. “And will he . . . will he always wear black?”

  “Oh no. He has different jacket colors for the occasions, and wildly varied vests as well. But I will draw your attention to the buttons.” He leaned forward and squinted.

  So she followed suit. “I cannot see the buttons.”

  “Precisely.”

  She sat back and frowned.

  “They are so tiny as to be unnoticeable. Because . . .”

  Lord Ballustrade called over to them. “I see you squinting and talking about me as if I’m not present. What is it? Out with it, man.”

  Kate laughed. “Oh dear, no.”

  “She is fascinated by your new vest.”

  His face lit in pleasure. “Ah, someone who appreciates fashion! Well, upon my word, I am more than happy to discuss everything to do with this vest.”

  “Perhaps you could promenade?” Lord Dennison lifted his hand.

  “Oh, yes, or come closer,” Kate said. “I’m most fascinated with your buttons.”

  “His buttons?” Charity looked like she might turn away completely, but she sat back and watched, nonetheless.

  “Oh, my dear. You might think something so insignificant as a button would not matter, but let me tell you, the buttons are what make this vest what it is.” He stood and moved close enough that he midriff was a mere inches from Kate’s nose. “Can you see them?”

  She shook her head, glancing at Lord Dennison, who was attempting to keep a laugh at bay. “I cannot see even one button.”

  “And that is the magic of this vest. See the swirls, the patterns in the embroidery? They are seamless appearing—they go from one side of the vest to the other as if it doesn’t even open in the front.”

  “I see that. It’s rather remarkable.”

  “Too true. I shall pass on your compliments to my tailor. But there are buttons. And they are just so cleverly disguised, you would never know of their presence.”

  Kate leaned
forward, rising to the challenge to discover Lord Ballustrade’s buttons, but he turned away, and Lord Dennison leaned back and openly laughed. “You’ve flummoxed the good Miss Kate. She’ll be wondering about your buttons the whole night through.”

  “As well she should. They will be all the rage in a few weeks’ time, and no one but me will be able to create such a work of art.” He sat back in his chair and picked up a cake.

  “I am quite impressed. Indeed, I’ve rarely seen anything so fascinating as your hidden buttons,” Kate said.

  “Rarely? What have you seen that even rivals their ingenuity?”

  She cleared her throat and glanced at Lord Dennison. “I was witness to a pair of slippers while dancing that may have come close.”

  “Oh, she has a point. I, too, saw a pair that not only stood out in color contrast but in sound,” Lord Dennison said.

  “In sound?” Lord Ballustrade’s mouth twitched.

  “Yes. Bells. On the tips of the shoes.”

  He crossed his arms. “And these slippers? They come close to my vest?” He shook his head. “I cannot account for it.”

  The butler entered again. “A Lady Dennison to see you.”

  They rose, and Kate was immediately taken in by the warm and genuine smile of their newest guest.

  “And Her Grace, the Duchess of Granbury.”

  They remained standing while the room curtseyed anew.

  “Oh, Your Grace, Lady Dennison, do come in.” Charity’s tone was all politeness, but Kate knew she would soon pass out from boredom if something more interesting didn’t come their way.

  Chapter Five

  “A Lord Tanner, Boxley, and Fenning to see you.” They stood again and made room as one of the most opinionated lords in the ton entered the room, eyed Charity, and made a beeline for the chair next to her.