Fitz looked at him as though he’d just sprouted a second head.
“Yes, I suppose those things have their charms too.”
“I assure you they do.”
“I say,” Bentley said from the other end of the table, “jolly good plonk, old man. It seems you keep a good cellar.”
John lifted his glass and toasted Bentley.
The butler and the footmen began serving dinner and conversations were mostly between the nearest table companions.
* * *
Katherine was sitting opposite Susan and she leaned forward over the soup and asked softly, “Which spoon?”
Susan pointed to the correct one.
Patricia, who was seated to Susan’s right turned and asked, “Do you frequent The Row often?”
“I beg your pardon?” Susan said, not understanding. “The Row?”
“Rotten Row… Hyde Park.”
Susan shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“You don’t ride?” Patricia asked in astonishment.
“I don’t live in London, Mrs. Comerford.”
Patricia looked at her, bewildered. “Oh, I thought you did.”
“No, ma’am I’m a school teacher. I live here and teach Elizabeth, the Duke’s daughter.”
“I could have sworn I saw you riding the Row just last Thursday with Sir Malcom. No? Are you certain?”
“Quite certain, Mrs. Comerford. It must have been someone else.”
“How extraordinary, I could have sworn it was you. Are you absolutely certain it wasn’t you?”
“As certain as one can possibly be,” Susan said smiling and amused by this clueless woman.
“My, my,” Patricia said and then turned to speak with her husband at the foot of the table.
How bizarre can things get? Susan wondered. She never in her life had encountered such strange folks. But then she remembered the folks she’d met in Bath, and thought again.
Aunt Clarissa had been speaking with the Duke and Miss Fitz, but she turned to Susan and asked quietly, “How are you doing? Are you finding this as strange a group as I do?”
Susan looked at her and smiled. “Need you ask?”
Clarissa laughed. “We’ll talk later.”
Susan looked across the table and saw Katherine conversing with Sir Andrew.
“Like this,” he was saying as he held up his right hand as though he were holding a teacup—his pinky in the air.
Katherine did the same.
“No, no, no… Like this,” he insisted, arching his little finger, just so.
Katherine tried to mimic his exact arch.
“Almost. But it’s not just the position, it’s the attitude. See?” He demonstrated again and held his head slightly tilted back. “It’s in the neck.” And he waved his finger at the curve of his neck.
Katherine tried but he was not satisfied and sighed. “I guess one is just born with it,” he said and turned away.
Katherine looked over at Susan and shrugged with a giggle.
Standish and the footmen served the rest of the dinner and Susan and Katherine were able to converse together without further interruption during the rest of the meal.
At the conclusion, Clarissa stood and announced, “Ladies, shall we retire to the drawing room, and leave the gentlemen to their cognac and cigars? For those who smoke…” She nodded to John who she knew did not.
The ladies rose and followed Clarissa out of the dining room. Susan glanced back and saw Miss Fitzwilliam reluctantly leaving the Duke, trailing her hand along John’s sleeve as she finally left.
* * *
After the ladies left, Bentley tapped Sir Andrew’s arm and nodded.
Sir Andrew nodded back and stood, addressing John, “I am in the mood for neither cognac nor a cigar this evening. I believe coffee is being served in the drawing room, and the idea of coffee this evening suits me to a T, so to speak.” He laughed at his little joke. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I shall join the ladies.”
John nodded and Sir Andrew left the dining room.
“So, it’s just you and me, Windmill,” John chuckled.
“Good lord, you still remember that old school name?” Bentley asked. “I thought I had outrun that for good years ago.”
Standish poured each gentleman a cognac.
“And how’s the law treating you?” John asked.
“Fair. Fair.” Bentley said but shifted in his chair. “John, I’ve been meaning to ask…” He hesitated.
“Yes? Speak up.”
“I had some investments in copper—South Africa, you know. But I’m afraid they went a bit south. But I was a little foolhardy and used the shares as collateral for a loan. But as the shares are bust, well… I’m sure you understand.”
“That’s rough,” John said, guessing what was coming next.
“So, I was wondering, old man, if you could spot me five hundred or so. Just until my gold shares mature, you understand. No more than six months top.”
John twirled the cognac in his glass. “Would that I could. But I’ve just come through a rough spot myself. Was about to lose the house I built for Annabel due to a loan being called in, but the railway was coming through and they bought up the right of way through the estate and that saved me… but only just.”
“Well then, you must be flush now. So can you help an old friend out?”
“I’m sorry Bentley, but that’s impossible. Another cognac?” he asked and motioned to Standish to serve his friend again.
“But, old man, I’m really desperate.”
“Then how did you afford a trip to Paris? That must have cost a fair penny.”
Bentley hung his head, “Andrew and Fiona paid for it.”
“I see. Then your stop to visit me was for more than just a social visit to an old friend?”
“I was hoping…”
“I’m sorry. Truly, I am, having just gone through the experience myself. If a hundred would help I could probably swing that.”
Bentley looked at him with tired eyes. “Thank you, old man. The wife will appreciate it, too.”
Chapter 18
Susan gave Katherine a hug just before she got into the trap to return to Ash.
“I’m sorry we never got our girl’s night gossip. I had no idea the Duke would insist we attend that dinner.”
“That’s all right. We’ll do it another time when there are no guests.” She began to giggle. “Weren’t they the strangest people you’ve ever seen? Are all Londoners like that?”
Susan shrugged. “Many are. But at least the Duke is a decent bloke.”
“Yes, he seems to be. He was very gracious to me.” She nudged Susan, “And very handsome, as well. How in the world can he still not be married?”
“Well, I know someone who’s certainly trying to change that,” Susan said.
“Oh, yes. The Fitzwilliam woman.”
Susan nodded.
Katherine got into the trap. “Good-bye, for now, my dear.”
“Give my love to your mamma,” Susan said as she touched Katherine’s sleeve.
Katherine snapped the reigns and headed for home.
Susan was a little sad, but she had lessons with Elizabeth, and that always cheered her up. After Susan returned to the house she was waylaid by John coming down the stairs as she was going up.
“You looked lovely last evening,” he said.
“Thank you. And thank you for including Katherine in the dinner party. You need not have done that.”
“She was your friend. Of course, I would include her.” John seemed to be looking at Susan’s neck. “Is that new?” he asked, referring to the locket. “I’ve not seen it before.”
“It’s a gift from Daniel. Katherine brought it with her.”
“Ah.” He seemed stymied for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ve had an opportunity to put together the cost estimate for the schoolhouse yet?”
“I’ve not. So sorry, but with Katherine visiting, and the guests coming a
nd going, I’ve not had the leisure to attempt that yet.”
“I understand. But the guests will soon be gone. We’re going shooting this afternoon, and I’m hoping one more day after that will be quite enough for all of us,” he said smiling slightly.
Susan had to smile as well. “They certainly are a colorful lot.”
John laughed. “You are being far too generous.”
“And the sheering? Nearing completion?”
“Very soon.”
Susan then asked, “Elizabeth has been asking me when she can play with the Franklin twins again. I was wondering how I might go about arranging that.”
“Ah, yes. What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking to pick the twins up one morning. The three could play in the schoolroom, stay for lunch, play a little more and we could send them home after.”
John considered for a moment. “What about not just playing, but including lessons as well. I’ve seen how you turn learning into play. It might give you an opportunity to test your teaching methods with the actual children who will be benefiting from the school.”
“What a wonderful idea. Then perhaps we could make it a regular event—like once a week to begin with. What would you say to that?”
“Sounds perfect. Why don’t you and Elizabeth go to the village one morning and make arrangements?”
Susan smiled. “Perhaps after the guests have left.”
John nodded.
“John, there you are,” Fitz called out as she was coming down the stairs in her riding costume.
John turned to her and smiled. “Are you going riding?”
“I thought I might. Care to join me?” she asked as she stood next to him, tucking a lock of his hair behind an ear.
“I’m still needed at the sheering. Patricia rides, she might accompany you.”
Fitz pouted. “I think not. She’s not nearly as charming as you are,” she said, sliding her hand down his arm.
“Then what about Miss Susan, she rides, I believe?” He turned toward her.
“As delightful as that sounds, I have a class with Elizabeth shortly,” Susan answered desperately trying to withhold her contempt.
“Ah, yes. Of course, I quite forgot.” John then turned to Fitz again. “And Sir Andrew then? Does he ride?”
“Not horses.”
“Ladies, you must excuse me. The sheep are calling me.” He started to walk down the stairs but turned to Susan. “I’d like to stop in and see Elizabeth later this afternoon.”
“She naps at three.”
John nodded and left. Fitz slapped her riding crop against her leg and headed down the stairs, as Susan went to fetch Elizabeth.
* * *
The three men stood loading their shotguns, as the beaters were up ahead ready for the signal to begin beating the bushes to startle the birds into flying skyward.
It was an overcast afternoon with a nippy wind coming down from the north. The trees had lost most of their autumn leaves by now and the landscape was bleak and dreary.
The men loaded the guns with shot and John called out, “Begin.”
The beaters began moving through the underbrush clapping and calling out. A covey of quail flew into the air and Bentley called out “Mine,” and shot both barrels, dropping three or four birds. John’s dogs immediately headed to retrieve the game.
“Good dogs,” John praised as they returned. “Go ahead and reload,” John suggested.
“I broke a tooth from the buckshot in a damn quail once,” Sir Andrew said. “Don’t mind hunting them, but don’t much like eating them.”
“Then save the shot. Just take in the fresh air and stroll about,” Bentley said. “You can be such a wuss, Andrew.”
“Poor birdies. And you can be such a brute,” Andrew replied.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please,” John reprimanded, and then commanded the beaters, “Again.”
This time a brace of pheasants flew skyward, and both John and Bentley shot at the same time, taking them both down.
“Good shooting, old man,” Bentley said, beaming like a schoolboy.
The dogs retrieved the birds again.
“Load,” John said.
“That woman, what’s her name? The nanny. Smart looking, but not very friendly. Why do you keep her?” Bentley asked.
“She’s an excellent teacher and is working wonders with my daughter. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak of her in that way.”
Bentley looked at John. “Old man, I believe you have a thing for her.”
John looked over—a little shaken. “Not at all. Why would you say that?”
“I’ve seen you staring at her. Quite a looker, I do agree, but are you sure? The nanny? Isn’t that a terrible cliché?”
“It’s your imagination, I quite assure you.”
“Bentley, you’re a pompous bore. I think she’s very charming,” Sir Andrew said.
“What would you know?” Bentley barked. “She’s hardly your type, wouldn’t you say?”
“Still. She was very kind to me and took a keen interest in my poetry.”
“Rubbish. All of it’s just rubbish.”
“I’ll not have quarreling. Please let’s just shoot or go back,” John demanded.
“How many more do we need for supper?” Bentley asked.
“Two more pheasants or a dozen more quail.”
“Then let’s shoot.”
* * *
Elizabeth seemed to be coming down with a cold, so Susan put her to bed early and decided to stay and read to her instead of going down to dinner. She sent John word Elizabeth was ill and not to come to the school room as he’d planned, and she knew he would understand.
Before going down to dinner, Clarissa stopped by Elizabeth’s room.
“Are you off to dinner?” Susan asked.
“I am.” She smiled. “Lucky you for being able to stay behind.”
Susan sat back in her chair and asked, “How can these people be John’s friends? They are so very different.”
“Only one was an early friend. But even friends change and John is no longer in touch with his university crowd. And since he became Duke his whole focus has been on Haverford. And, of course, Annabel’s death was a terrible blow and there is no doubt that changed him significantly.”
“I can’t imagine losing someone like that. It must have been a terrible trial.”
“Such grief! Of course, I lost my husband too, but we’d been married a long time and his passing was slow. I became used to the inevitability by the end. But when one dies so young and unexpectedly—it can be truly devastating.”
“But you had no children to share that with.”
“No, I didn’t. But John has been very dear to me—almost like a child. I care for him so much. And, of course, there’s the dear Elizabeth.”
“Has he ever said if he would consider marrying again?” Susan asked.
Clarissa thought about that. “I can’t remember him ever saying. But he is still so young, with his whole life before him. I would certainly urge it if he ever consulted me on the matter.”
“Miss Fitzwilliam seems to have her eyes on him,” Susan said softly. She looked up to Clarissa. “Has he said anything to you about her?”
Clarissa shook her head. “Not a thing. But I can’t imagine he would be attracted to her. True, she is quite beautiful, but in a rather obvious and not very subtle way.”
“I’ve seen him smile at her quite often.”
“Smiling is not necessarily desiring,” Clarissa added.
Susan nodded. “Ah, well. It’s none of my business.”
Clarissa studied Susan, and then said, “It could be.”
Susan looked up a little startled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Only that you care for Elizabeth, and you are now an integral part of his family’s life. Anything that affects him is going to necessarily affect you as well.”
Diaries of a Heartbroken Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 18
