by Lora Edwards
“You have received invitations to several social gatherings that require your response. The Ton is aware that you have taken up residence in the townhouse and they are eager to make your acquaintance.”
“Umm, okay, then bring them to me. It would be helpful to have you help me respond to them. I have no idea which to accept or decline.”
“Of course, my lady, I will return shortly.” After a short bow, Stallings walked into the hall, quickly returning holding a silver tray that appeared to be holding about twelve envelopes.
“We have that many invitations?” Teagan was surprised as they had just arrived the day before.
“You have arrived at the height of the season, my lady, and there are luncheons, parties, and balls happening almost every day and evening.”
Taking a deep breath, Teagan began reading each invitation. With Stallings’ advice, an hour later she had responded to all the missives. She found herself and her party attending a dinner that evening, a garden party the next afternoon, and a ball at the end of the week. Flexing her cramped hand, she looked up to see Bran and Ovidia coming in for breakfast.
“You are up early, Teag, but then you have always been an early riser.” Ovidia fixed a plate from the sideboard and sat down across from her. Teagan saw Bran do the same out of the corner of her eye.
“Stallings and I have been working while you people have been lazing around in bed. We have committed to quite a few social engagements for the next week. Hopefully it will help us get some clues on the Ripper’s identity, if he is, as some theorize, a member of high society.”
“Oh, he is. The man we seek likes the finer things in life—that is one of the few things we know about him,” Bran said as he sipped his tea.
“Well done, Teagan. Going to the various social engagements is an excellent way to not only look for him but to hear the gossip that is circulating.”
“Duke, you have also been invited to attend a card party at Whites tomorrow evening, if you are so inclined.” Stallings handed the card to Bran.
“Stallings, I think that would be an excellent idea. Men will talk of things not suitable for ladies’ ears at these gatherings. Again, another good place to gather information.”
“Ladies’ ears,” Ovidia asked him sarcastically.
“Just getting into the role.” Bran grinned at Ovidia as she swatted at him. “After the dinner party tonight, we will venture into Whitechapel. The first murder was not recorded as happening until late into the night. We know where his victim was found so we should be able to catch him tonight, use him as bait for the Vampire and be in our own beds tomorrow,” Bran said, reaching for his cup.
Teagan did not believe catching either Ripper would be as easy as Bran was hoping; she had a feeling that the Ripper they were after would lead them on a merry chase before they were able to ascertain his identity.
“Teag, we should explore a bit and let you see some of the sights before we go the party tonight. We can go do my favorite activity—shopping—and have tea out. It may give us a chance to talk with some of the ladies of the Ton and put names with faces.”
Teagan nodded, excited to get out and experience London in this century. She had read about 1800s London, studied it thoroughly, and seen pictures, but being able to interact with the people of the time and experience everyday life, would be a dream come true.
“We need to change into our walking gowns then we can be on our way,” Ovidia said, standing from the table.
“Reading about the customs of the Victorian era and actually living in them are two very different things,” Teagan complained.
“You’re just complaining because you have to change clothes several times a day.” Ovidia rolled her eyes and walked out of the breakfast room.
Teagan sighed, resigned to changing into the appropriate walking gown for an afternoon out in society. Waving halfheartedly in Bran’s direction, Teagan followed Ovidia up the stairs. She wasn’t happy about the wardrobe, but the excitement of going out and seeing history in action would was enough to curb her irritation about it.
Attired in a gown of blue silk, Teagan tapped her booted foot on the marble floor. She felt she wasted half of her life while Ovidia primped, pressed, and fussed with her appearance.
Finally, Ovidia appeared at the top of the stairs, resplendent in a striped lavender walking dress with matching parasol.
Coming down the stairs to stand in front of Teagan, she handed her two items: a blue hat with a white ostrich plume jutting from the side and a ruffled parasol that matched the blue silk dress she wore.
“Ahhh yes, we wouldn’t want our skin to get brown, now would we?” Teagan said, looking at the items.
“Right you are Teag,” Ovidia said.
Ovidia fixed her own flowered lavender silk hat decorated with pastel silk flowers on her platinum upsweep with an elaborate filigree hatpin. Ovidia handed Teagan a sapphire encrusted hatpin and explained, “Secures your hat, a fashion accessory, and a weapon if needed.”
“Vid, I don’t know about all this.” Teagan nervously adjusted her hat, looking into the mirror in the foyer.
“You look every inch a duchess.”
“Thanks. I’m just a little nervous.”
“You will do great. Parasols up,” Vid declared as they stepped out into Victorian London and began their stroll down the sidewalk.
“Let’s stop in here—my lady’s maid told me they have the most divine gloves and hats at this shop.”
Divine? What the hell happened to Ovidia? Apparently, she was getting into the part. Teagan wandered around the shop and tried to look interested in the various sundries that were displayed. Gloves in every color and size and hats from the plain to the outlandish covered the walls and shelves of the shop.
Ovidia merrily picked up one thing after another and exclaimed over it with other shoppers before turning to the next item, at times commiserating with the other women over one glove only to turn around and exclaim delight over another. Ovidia slipped into this skin like a chameleon.
Straightening her shoulders, Teagan looked around. She would socialize; it was important to get in good with the ladies of the Ton so they could ferret out the gossip they would need to help them catch the Ripper.
“Don’t you just love Irish lace? It is handmade there you know,” said a voice from just to the side of her. Looking over, Teagan saw a lovely young lady around her own age.
“Yes, it is exquisite, isn’t it? I have always been partial to Irish lace,” Teagan said, smiling and hoping she was making the right comments.
“I am Lady Eliza Argyle. My husband is Duke Argyle, but I think introducing myself as Duchess Argyle is so pretentious.”
Teagan smiled, bringing her gloved handed to her mouth. “Yes, I agree. My husband is also a Duke, Duke Draconus, and it feels so strange to introduce myself as a duchess.”
“Are you newly married then,” Lady Eliza asked.
“Yes, and newly arrived from America, which you have probably guessed from my accent. We were married just a few short weeks ago.” Teagan smiled, glad she had gone over the script they had prepared.
“Oh yes, I heard the new Duke had come back to London. I believe you were invited to a dinner party at our townhouse this evening,” Lady Argyle said.
“Yes, we will be attending,” Teagan responded.
“Sounds divine. I have to be going, things to do, you know.” The woman waved as she walked out of the shop with her companion.
Teagan congratulated herself on a job well done; she’d had a perfectly normal conversation with someone from the past and hadn’t screwed it up.
Having finished up her conversation, Ovidia came over. “Are you ready to depart? It is time for our tea.”
Teagan and Ovidia stepped back out on the busy street, Ovidia holding a small package containing the gloves she had just purchased.
Teagan asked, “Why did you buy those gloves? Wardrobe provided us with all the clothing we need.”
&nb
sp; “First, you know I love shopping, and second, it would seem odd to walk into one of the most fashionable shops on High Street, make a fuss over the items, and then not buy anything! People would speculate that we were having financial trouble, and we do not need any extra scrutiny,” Ovidia stated matter-of-factly.
“Whatever helps you feel better about your shopping obsession Vid,” Teagan teased her.
“I did not do quite as well as you though—quite an accomplishment making friends with Duchess Argyle. They are very exclusive.”
“I’m glad I could contribute to the mission.” Teagan smiled, proud of herself for helping, even in some small way.
“Teag, you contribute to this mission in many ways. Your knowledge of the Jack the Ripper cases is going to be invaluable to us,” Ovidia said, linking arms with her as they walked down the street back toward the teahouse Victoria had mentioned.
“I am very excited for tonight—no corsets, petticoats, or long skirts. The clothing is beautiful but very uncomfortable!”
“Oh Teag, what am I going to do with you, happy in your leggings and a t-shirt.”
“There is nothing wrong with leggings and a t-shirt. Besides, leggings are in fashion now.”
Ovidia’s trilling laugh floated down the street.
Teagan endured another dressing session with Victoria and, now, looked like a proper lady of the Ton in a splendid dress of shimmering emerald silk. Her face was powdered, her hair coiffed with emeralds and strings of pearls artfully placed throughout the elaborate structure.
“Teag, you look beautiful in that color! The wardrobe department did an excellent job, and your hair!”
“I feel like a trussed-up turkey. I have more clothes on than I would normally wear in a week, and the pins in my hair are sticking into my scalp. By the end of the night, my neck is going to hurt from the 300 pounds of jewels on top of my head!”
“Someone needs a nap,” Ovidia said, amused. “Just think, later you can wear pants and hunt a murderer.”
“Is it bad that that thought cheers me up,” Teagan asked, laughing at herself.
Looking down at the dress and smoothing down a small wrinkle, Teagan reflected that it was a beautiful gown. Despite not being able to breathe and feeling like she was wearing pounds of clothing, she did feel like a duchess, or maybe even a princess.
“Ladies, my Duke, your carriage is ready,” Stallings intoned, breaking into Teagan’s thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Teagan followed Ovidia out the door to a waiting footman who helped both ladies into the carriage. She was not the best at social events in her own time, so she worried about how she was going to do in a time when manners were scrutinized closely and one faux pas could get you exiled from society for good.
“You will be fine Teag, just watch me and you will do fine. We are Americans and they will give us some slack because of that.”
“By slack to you mean derision at the uncouth American savages,” Teagan asked, sarcastically raising one brow.
“Yes, exactly,” Ovidia said as she settled back into the cushion of the carriage, giving Teagan a cheerful smile.
Bran was strangely quiet on the ride to the Duke and duchess’ townhouse. He looked deep in thought, as if something was bothering him. He had gone strangely pale when he had seen Teagan come down the stairs then abruptly left the room, mumbling something about having forgotten his hat.
A small smile had passed across Ovidia’s face but before Teagan had a chance to ask her about it, she started chatting about who might be attending the dinner party.
The carriage rocked to a stop in front of a stately brick townhouse ablaze with light. A string of carriages snaked down the sweeping circular driveway and footmen lined the path, opening doors and helping beautifully dressed women descend stately carriages as their, equally well-dressed, husbands followed.
Teagan was glad she had allowed Victoria free rein with her appearance. This was high society, and she would have looked a fool if Victoria had let her have her way with a simpler dress and hair. Sending up a silent thanks to her, Teagan descended the carriage. Bran, still silent, held out his arm to escort Teagan into the townhouse. Ovidia was ahead of them. As they reached the door, a handsome man smiled at Ovidia and asked, “Miss, may I escort you into dinner?”
Ovidia blushed and looked down, looking shy, playing her part to a T. “Thank you sir, that is most kind of you.”
“It is my pleasure, Miss…?”
“Reading, Ovidia Reading. My sister is the new wife of Duke Draconus. We have just arrived from America.”
“America, is it? You must regale me with tales of the wilds of America then.”
Smiling, Ovidia took his arm, turned, and winked at Teagan.
Teagan smiled back with a shake of her head. Ovidia did not have a shy bone in her body.
Teagan looked up at Bran, his face still like a stone, and she felt as if she was standing next to a living statue. He wouldn’t even look at her. What is his deal? If they were supposed to be married, shouldn’t he at least pretend to like her? She sighed. Many marriages in that time were arranged, so he could quite possibly despise her and it would not be seen out of the norm.
Taking a chance, she leaned over, standing on her tiptoes, and whispered in his ear, “Are you angry with me?”
He jumped as if she had hit him. “No, I am not angry. What gave you that idea,” he asked as he visibly relaxed his posture and pasted a smile on his face.
“Your face looks like stone, and you have not even looked at me, let alone talked to me,” Teagan responded.
“You in that dress, you are beautiful, and…dammit, never mind. This is not the time or place.”
Before she could respond, the woman from the shop walked up to them on the arm of a slightly older but distinguished-looking man. She was dressed in champagne-colored silk and had diamonds strung in her hair.
“Duke and Duchess Draconus, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Duke Argyle bowed his head as his wife gave a slight curtsey. Bran and Teagan returned the gesture.
“Your wife is a charming woman, Duke Draconus. We met while shopping on High Street today. So many women are tedious and empty-headed, but it was apparent that your wife is intelligent and in possession of great wit and charm.” Lady Argyle smiled at Teagan.
“Yes, thank you Lady Argyle. I am most fortunate to have found a woman who possesses such beauty and wit. She was a rare find.” Bran looked down at Teagan, the expression on his face full of adoration, and if she was not mistaken, a bit of lust?
Teagan’s mouth went dry at the look. She had to remind herself that he was playing a part; the gaze and the words were all for show.
“You are a beautiful woman, Duchess. We have reserved seats for you next to ours at the table, and I am looking forward to this infamous wit I have heard about.” Duke Argyle winked at Teagan with a sparkle in his eyes before he and his wife turned to greet their other guests.
“Great, no pressure,” Teagan mumbled to herself.
Bran gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Just be yourself. You can do nothing but dazzle him if you do that,” Bran whispered.
Teagan stared at him. What was going on? Was he just trying to charm her for the assignment? Was he just lonely and wanting a companion, not knowing how long they would be there? Teagan blushed at his compliment and smoothed her skirts, wishing the simple action would calm her nerves as well.
Teagan and Bran moved through the crowd, Teagan taking a glass of wine from a roving waiter, Bran carrying a glass of whiskey. Ovidia’s laugh could be heard throughout the room as she charmed men and women alike, subtly pumping them for information that may be helpful to them later.
Teagan was enjoying a conversation with an older gentleman and his wife when the tinkling sound of a bell was heard. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.” A dour-looking man in the livery of Duke Argyle called them into the dining room.
Nodding to the couple, she again took Bran’s arm and let him lead he
r into the dining room for the meal.
The table was set like a page out of Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management. Teagan was not too intimidated by the amount of silverware, glasses, and different plates; she had attended many dinners with her wealthy parents over the years, even a few state dinners at the White House. She had read about these opulent Victorian dinners, but actually participating in one made her slightly nervous.
Bran leaned over from his place beside her. “You will be fine, just follow my example. Ovidia is seated across from you so you can mimic her as well.”
Teagan let out a small sigh, feeling a bit less self-conscious. Studying the habits of another time was one thing; the reality was quite another.
They were seated at a place of importance at the table. The host was seated at the head of the table, his wife at his right, Bran at his left, and Teagan on the other side of Bran.
“I do not know how I was so fortunate to be seated next to such a beautiful woman, but I will have to thank our host for the seating arrangement post haste after the dinner.”
Teagan turned in her seat to look at the man seated on her left side. He was handsome, with his dark hair slicked back from his face. Intelligent-looking amber eyes stared out of a patrician face, and when he smiled at her, she saw he had twin dimples. Taking her gloved hand, he brought it to his perfectly formed lips, his gaze never leaving her face.
“I am Harrison, Duke of Clarence. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Thank you for the compliment, your Grace,” Teagan responded.
“Ahhh, you are an American. I have always wanted to visit your fair shores. Where did you reside in the colonies?”
“Boston,” Teagan replied, using her cover.
“I have heard of Boston. I would like to visit there, as well as New York, and Chicago—so much innovation and invention happening in the colonies.”
Teagan smiled. “Yes, they are beautiful cities to visit.”
The dinner went on and on, course after course, and Teagan found herself relaxing as the wine flowed and the conversation entertained. She regaled their host with scripted stories of her life in America, and he agreed with his wife that she had a lively wit. Teagan also enjoyed a dynamic conversation with the man seated beside her.
