The clock in the hall struck the quarter hour. “And now I must go. Dahlia went to her door, looking about to see if her brother was at hand.
Aaron was, indeed, in the hall and prepared to squire her down to dinner. “You are looking very fine tonight, Sister.”
“As are you, Brother,” she replied, as well she might. Aaron wore light blue velveteen knee britches, fine white stockings with only the faintest of clocks, and his shoes and the buckles on them shown with the labor his valet had lavished on them. His darker blue coat had ornate frogs, only lightly picked out with gold thread.
“Are we expecting a special guest?” she asked.
“None that I know of,” he replied. “But father did request that we take extra care tonight. Oh, your young Duke is coming to dinner.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Dahlia said demurely. “But how did you manage? Does our father know?”
“He does. I hardly think he would refuse the Duke of Shelthom at his table. Indeed, I think they do not even know each other although Father might have known the late duke.”
Again, as they entered the dining room, the Earl of Goldstone was seated to Duke Cottleroy’s left. Aaron helped Dahlia to sit in her usual place, one chair down from her father’s right and next to her brother. Across from her was a middle-aged woman and an older man with a lugubrious face
Slowly, the rest of the table filled in. A few minutes later, the Duke of Shelthom was ushered in and seated next to her.
The soup course was brought in and the conversation was confined to small talk. “Lady Dahlia, I wish you had been with us, today,” the Duke said to Dahlia. “Your brother took me out to see his sheep.”
“Oh?” said Dahlia.
“There was this lamb that was gamboling sweetly beside his mother.”
“Oh! Your Grace, the bell ewe has had her baby? Tell, me what does he look like?”
“He is a charming little fellow with a curly black coat. Perhaps we could go see him together?”
Dahlia smiled, and started to reply, then noticed her father’s eyes upon them.
“Say no more, Your Grace. My father does not wholly approve of my brother’s ventures.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows at that. “Indeed? How very droll.”
The servants removed the soup and brought in the main course. It was a pair of roast geese made up to look like swans. Accompanying it was a vat of honeyed carrots and a tureen of peas in white sauce.
The Duke, as was his duty as her table companion, assisted Dahlia with cutting slices of goose. “Only a little,” she said. “It is very rich.”
“Indeed,” the Duke said, assisting the middle-aged lady on his right.
Dahlia could see that the woman’s husband seemed engrossed in a discussion of some obscure point of philosophy with the gentleman seated across from him. It showed a great want of manners, but since the fellow was a peer of some standing, he could ignore some of the social niceties.
At last, the main course was removed, the fruit and cheese tray brought, and removed. Then, finally, the dessert was served. It was a marvel, so late in August. Each guest was given a tiny dish of frozen custard. Dahlia wondered where her father’s steward had found the ice.
As the dessert was being served, the Duke of Cottleroy stood and said, “I have an announcement to make. I have a ship sailing on the morning tide, and it will be insured by the new Red Star assurance company. I propose a toast to good fortune.”
“To good fortune,” most of the company murmured obediently, taking polite sips of their wine.
“And,” the Duke of Cottleroy went on, “I have a further announcement. I have given leave to the Earl of Goldstone to request my daughter’s hand.”
Dahlia startled and would have risen were it not for the grip of her brother’s hand just below the table. Even so, she overset her wineglass, sending the contents into her lap.
“Pray, Father,” she gasped. “I beg leave to be excused.”
Duke Cottleroy’ eyes blazed with fury, but before he could speak, the Duke of Shelthom said in a slow, lazy voice, “I am sorry, sir, but I cannot permit Lord Goldstone to pay court to Lady Dahlia since she has agreed to marry me.
“Explain yourself, Shelthom,” the Duke of Cottleroy gritted out. “I have not given consent to any such match.
“Cottleroy,” the Duke of Shelthom replied, “I believe I outrank the Earl of Goldstone, and you will find that my affairs are in order. I can offer your daughter an old and honorable name as well as a comfortable living.”
The three men were now on their feet.
“Daughter, you may be excused,” the Duke of Cottleroy ground out between his teeth, “Get you gone from this table and go to your rooms forthwith.”
The other guests were quickly pulling away from the three men, a few timid members of the group who were seated near the door quickly slipped out of the room. Dahlia stood, stock still, with the red wine dripping down her green dress, staining it like blood.
“As for you, Shelthom,” the Duke of Cottleroy raged, “You have overstepped the bounds of hospitality. I have not given my consent to this marriage, nor will I. You might think that marrying an heiress would repair your fortunes. Well it will not! Should you insist upon this, the girl will come to you with nothing for I shall cut her off without a penny.”
“We shall manage to rub along tolerably well without anything from you,” the Duke of Shelthom said with deceptive equability. “Better I think than she should fare wed to Lord Goldstone.”
“Do you impugn my honor or my business management?” Lord Goldstone demanded.
“My good sir,” the young Duke drawled softly, “I was speaking to The Duke of Cottleroy, whom I do hold in some regard. However, now that you mention it, I do impugn both your honor and your business management.”
“I am not the one reduced to depending on a school boy and a milky schoolroom miss to repair my fortunes,” Lord Goldstone blazed forth.
“No,” Duke Shelthom returned, “You are the one who would wed a fine Lady without her consent.”
“I have bargained with her father for her,” Lord Goldstone raged, “and he has given me leave to pay her court, which is more than can be said for you.”
With great deliberation, Duke Shelthom ignored Lord Goldstone and turned to Dahlia. “My Aunt Garrity has extended an invitation to you, My Lady. I had thought to tender it after dinner, but under the circumstances, perhaps you would care to continue our celebratory meal under more convivial circumstances? Lord Bochil, her invitation also extends to you.”
Dahlia swept him a gracious curtsey. “I thank you, Your Grace. I should be happy to accept your aunt’s gracious invitation.” One I’ll warrant she has no idea she has just extended, but I am grateful for the chance to escape openly and out the front door.
“I will accompany her to her rooms,” Aaron said.
“You may both be excused from this table,” their father snarled, “but if you take one step outside the door of this house with this man, you will do so without my blessing. Not so much as a counterfeit farthing will you take with you. Nor, young Bochil, will I continue to pay your fees at Oxford.”
“Father,” Aaron said gently, “You have not paid them for the last three quarters. My man of business has kindly stepped into the breach and paid them from my wool sales.”
“You will have no flock or shepherd!” the Duke shouted, his countenance waxing choleric.
“No, sir,” Aaron corrected gently. “You will have no flocks. You let the sheep pastures to some unknown party some months ago, and sold the sheep for mutton. The only flocks are on the land that I have from our mother.”
“I shall rescind your inheritance!” the Duke of Cottleroy roared, spittle flying from his mouth, so great was his anger.
“No, Father, you cannot. I came into my majority some time ago, taking my legal residence in Bochil, and I offer my sister my mantle for shelter until such time as she might be legally wed to the Duke of S
helthom.” Aaron began guiding Dahlia toward the dining room door.
The Duke of Cottleroy turned his attention to the Duke of Shelthom. “You, sir, are no longer welcome in my house. Get you gone, forthwith before I call my guards.”
“I shall go right willingly.” the Duke of Shelthom sketched an icily correct bow to the Duke of Cottleroy. Then directing his remarks to Dahlia and Aaron he said, “My Lady, My Lord, my carriage will await without in the open street, which does not belong to the Duke of Cottleroy.”
“This is an outrage,” Lord Goldstone ground out. “My seconds shall wait upon you, sir!”
“I look forward to the visit,” said the Duke of Shelthom.
The three of them, Dahlia, Aaron and the young Duke exited the dining room with as much haste as dignity would allow. “Will you be able to get out safely?” the Duke asked.
“Jemmy is on duty tonight,” Dahlia replied. “If we make haste, we should be able to meet you at the front door in less than a single candle mark, Your Grace.”
“I could come with you,” the Duke began.
“Not wise, sir,” Bochil interjected. “I shall have her to you directly, have no fear.”
“I bow to your wisdom,” the Duke said. But if she is not out shortly, I shall be in to get her. I’ll not leave her here.
Chapter 20
It was with some reluctance that Roger exited the Cottleroy townhouse. He found Herbert already waiting with the carriage, the Shelthom footmen on behind, and an extra man atop behind the driver.
“Expecting trouble?” Roger asked his faithful man.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Herbert replied. “Are not you?”
“The battle flags are flying.” Roger nodded. “If she is not out by the time the watch calls the hour, I shall be going in to get her.”
Roger and Herbert waited beside the carriage, each scanning the street to either side. Time dragged, but in truth it was less than a candle mark and well before the watch cried the hour when Lady Dahlia descended the steps of the townhouse on the arm of Lord Bochil.
Behind her came her maid, a footman and a diminutive bootblack, each burdened with a bundle, bag or box. “I am here, Your Grace,” Lady Dahlia said. “I hope you do not mind. I have brought my personal staff.”
“Not at all,” Roger acknowledged, mentally totting up the stipends for three more staff. The funds he was receiving from Major Tomlinson would cover the cost with just a tiny bit over.
Well-a-day. I knew that gaining a wife would not be without expense.
The carriage was a bit small for five, so the footman and bootblack joined the man atop the carriage, while Lady Dahlia, Lord Bochil and the maid joined Roger on the benches inside, the lady and her maid seated on one side, the gentlemen on the other. It was a finely appointed carriage, despite its size. The seats were of well-kept tufted leather, the floorboards well swept, and parchment window coverings were rolled up behind soft black drapes.
“Came you away without trouble, My Lady, Lord Bochil?” Roger asked.
“I believe expeditiously would be the best term,” Lord Bochil replied. “We have made haste to leave with the staff loyal to myself and my sister, whilst my Father’s people were still in disarray.”
Lady Dahlia seemed to be struck by some thought, and gasped. “Oh, Aaron, my brother,” she cried out, “What of our sisters? And Miss Emma?”
“Credit me with some sense,” Lord Bochil said. “Violet had expressed interest in seeing some species of butterfly, and begged leave to visit the country only just this morning. Father had no reason to deny her, Rose and Miss Emma a trip to the country, so I made haste to mention that some of the species might be found at Bochil.”
“Are there such things at Bochil?” Roger asked, amused by the excellent forethought shown by the young man.
“In truth, I have no idea. They were on their way before noon, and by now are probably bedding down in my country house. My valet will join them anon and apprise Miss Emma of all that has transpired.”
“Will that put them out of reach?” Roger asked. “As minors, they are both still under the legal guardianship of their father, The Duke of Cottleroy.”
“I have posted a note to a crony of mine, who will ask his sister to invite them to a fashionable seashore. It is not a sure thing, but I believe that a remove or two through my friends will at a least make them hard to follow.” Lord Bochil seemed remarkably pleased with himself.
“Remind me not to play chess with you,” Roger commented. “It would seem we have done as well as we can tonight.”
“Will Lord Goldstone call you out?” Lady Dahlia asked.
“He has said it so,” Roger sighed. “He believes I have given him offense and I doubt not that his seconds will call on me tomorrow. Lord Bochil, I will send around word to Mr. Jeremy Sharp, my man of business to see what can be done to make your sister secure in the event that Goldstone is a better swordsman than I.”
“Oh, no!” Lady Dahlia cried out. “Surely you will not meet him, Your Grace. His reputation as a duelist…”
“Fear not, My Lady,” Roger remonstrated, “I have no intention of allowing myself to be killed. But it is a poor general who does not plan for all contingencies. I am deeply aware of the repugnance you feel toward Goldstone and would do all I can to spare you that humiliation.” To say nothing of my not putting it past the blackguard to harm you.
Lady Dahlia settled back against the cushions with a sigh. “You are very kind, Your Grace. I am grateful.”
“Talk to me about gratitude tomorrow, my Lady, when we are at the center of all the off-season on dits.”
“Is your aunt truly expecting us?” Lord Bochil asked.
“By now, it is very likely that she is,” Roger said. “I sent one of my footmen on ahead with a linkboy so that he could tell her to ready rooms for you and your sister.”
When the coach drew up before the Shelthom townhouse, it was bustling with activity. Light shone forth from windows both upstairs and down.
Peter met them on the steps and ushered them into the small dining room. “Your Grace, I understand that your repast was interrupted,” he said in his well-modulated voice. "Mrs. Garrity took the liberty of requesting a small supper. I fear it shall not be as fine as you are accustomed to at Cottleroy’ table, but I believe you will find it filling.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Roger said kindly, “We shall be very glad of it. My Lady, Lord Bochil, you are welcome in my home.”
“Thank you, Duke Shelthom,” Lord Bochil said. “Come, Sister, let us see what crumbs the Duke’s good aunt has found for us.”
It was not the feast that had been laid on at the Cottleroy townhouse, but the little supper set out for them was quite respectable. There were some slivers of roast beef, shaved quite thin and a dish of turnips whipped into a snowy mound. A loaf of crusty brown bread sat beside a dish of butter. There was a little tureen of clotted cream and a basket of fresh pears.
“Oh, this is wonderful!” Lady Dahlia exclaimed. “I love clotted cream and pears. Do please compliment the cook.”
“I am glad it pleases you, Lady Dahlia,” Mrs. Garrity said. “It was a favorite of my sister, the late Duchess of Shelthom. Nephew, I believe your mother would have approved your choice.”
“Thank you, Aunt Garrity. Your approbation means a great deal to me,” Roger said, not without a little irony.
“Indeed, thank you, Mrs. Garrity,” Lady Dahlia said. “You are most,” she paused searching for a word, “flexible in your views.”
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Garrity laughed a little, “I was the youngest of nine daughters, Roger’s mother was the next to oldest. You have no idea the escapades we used to get up to. Your mother, Nephew, was the only one of us to snag a member of the peerage. The rest of us made do with respectable husbands. Now,” she added sadly, “I am the only one left. Time does take its toll.”
Roger regarded his aunt for a moment. “This is a side of you we have not seen, Aunt Garrity. Although, I
’ll own your lending advice about the notices in the paper has borne fruit.”
“As well it might. Nephew, I had in mind a very plain and sensible ad that would be scarcely noticed, but now the world is fully made aware of your tender for Lady Dahlia.” Mrs. Garrity shook her finger from side to side reprovingly. “Not very discreet, Nephew.”
Roger gave a shout of laughter. “Well-a-day, I do not believe that discrete would have served its purpose since Cottleroy was set on, and possibly still is set on, allowing Goldstone to marry into the Cottleroy house. And I doubt not that Goldstone is chomping at the bit to have the connections that would bring.”
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