by Vella, Wendy
“I said come and sit!”
Abby started to move at the duchess’s screech, but Dimity held her arm. “If you do as she asks, then she will not realize it is rude to behave in the manner she does. It’s a little like training Walter.”
“You cannot be serious? The woman has been terrifying people for years,” Abby hissed. “There is no training someone of her age who is set in her ways, surely. And I for one have no wish to try or be caught in the crossfire of someone foolish enough to try.” Abby said the words out the side of her mouth.
“Coward.”
Abby ran to take her seat as far from the duchess as she could, next to Michael Deville, leaving the seat beside Lord Raine free. Dimity moved over to the far side of the room, away from the group, to the chair beside the desk.
“Where are you going?”
“Here.” Dimity sat as the duchess called to her.
“Come back here. You know these people. There is no need for such distance!”
“I should not sit with you during morning calls.”
Dimity could not make out what the duchess then muttered, but soon Lord Raine was on his feet and heading her way. She braced herself.
“If we must endure that woman for your sake, then so must you,” he said, coming to a halt before her, so close that the toes of his polished black boots touched hers. So close that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He’d managed to block out the people behind them.
Sitting with this man looming over her was not terribly wise, but she had no choice, as he’d boxed her in.
“I am doing what is right. I thought you’d be pleased—and I did not ask you to visit me with your sister and brother.”
“Ungrateful wretch.” The lines at the sides of his mouth deepened as he looked down at her. “We accompanied our sister, as I did not want her coming alone and being exposed to the duchess’s wrath.”
That made sense. He was, after all, nothing if not protective of his siblings. The thought that he hadn’t wanted to see her was deflating and yet shouldn’t be. Clearly her brain was addled.
“She is really not that bad when you get to know her.”
“So you say, however as yet I have seen no evidence of that. Now, as you are still living in this household with the Duchess of Awkward, you must have found a way to do so, therefore, you need to come and ensure she does not attack me or Abby.”
“Not your brother?”
“I’m happy for her to attack him.” He had a wicked look in his eyes now.
“She is all bark but no bite, I assure you, my lord.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Scared of a little old lady. How wonderful that there is someone who can reduce you to such a state.”
He was far too disturbing this close. Crisp white shirt and necktie. Deep blue superfine cloth caressed his shoulders, and the waistcoat matched. Although when he leaned closer, she noted a flash of red.
“My sister sought her retribution for our possessive behavior in the linings of our jackets,” he said, following her eyes. He parted his jacket, and she saw the scarlet silk. “Michael has one in pink.”
“Your sister has a mischievous streak she keeps hidden, but I’ve had occasion to see it also.” Dimity found a smile as she looked at it. She liked that his clothes were not quite what they seemed.
“My sister can seem all that is sweet, but believe me, there is a Machiavellian side to her nature.”
“She needed to be.”
He sighed. “I may have been a little overzealous in my control of her in your eyes, Dimity. But when your father asks on his deathbed that you watch over her, you do it.”
Her eyes locked on his. He’d never spoken so openly with her before, and indeed why would he? She was a servant and far beneath him.
“I’m sorry, I had no right to judge you. I know your actions were undertaken with love.”
“If a little misguided? Now come, we need to take tea then leave, and it’s my hope in one piece.”
She stood, taking his hand.
“Are you well, Dimity? Do you like this position?”
“I am, and yes. I like it here, thank you,” She pulled her hand free. Her fingers tingled from the contact.
He said nothing more, and soon they were seated, taking tea.
“Not those horrid cinnamon rock cakes again,” Dimity said, looking at what the butler was handing out.
“I like them.” The duchess thumped the cane down.
“But how do you know if you like anything else if you won’t try it?”
“I tried those plum cakes, didn’t I, like you suggested?” The duchess scowled.
“And liked them,” Dimity added.
The duchess ignored that.
“Up you get, Raine, you can start.” The duchess waved a hand at the earl, who was swallowing a mouthful of cake. He choked but managed to keep the crumbs in his mouth. His eyes shot from the duchess to Dimity and then back. Grabbing his tea, he swallowed several mouthfuls.
“Pardon?”
“The reading. It can begin with you, as it’s your book.” The duchess jabbed her cane at his toe and only just missed when he turned it to the right.
“I, ah, I appear to have missed a vital piece of information, Duchess.”
“It’s a reading salon, Raine. You are first,” the duchess said as if she’d already told him this, and not just spoken the words for the first time.
She’d never seen this man anything but confident and assured. Usually there was arrogance also, but right in this moment, Dimity could see only panic. She bit back her smile.
“Reading salon,” he said slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“I never took you for one of those men who don’t pursue the arts, Raine,” the duchess said, looking just a little bit mean. “Too important to lower themselves to read to others.”
“Reading salons are meant to be for literary books. Captain Broadbent and Lady Nauticus books are for pleasure, not slumber,” he said.
“Roman mythology is not boring!” The cane thumped.
“So you say.” He looked in control again. “I would disagree, as would at least one in fifty people.”
“That’s because it takes intelligence to understand the great works,” the duchess snapped. “Forty-nine in every fifty people appear to be dimwitted.”
“If you say so.” Lord Raine smiled.
The duchess sniffed, then patted her forehead with a handkerchief. “My head is paining me today. Perhaps a tisane, Dimity.”
“You don’t really expect me to fall for that,” the earl said. “You’re healthier than an ox.”
The duchess lowered the handkerchief. “Acting has never been my strong suit.”
Abby was fighting a smile.
“You’re next to read.” The duchess jabbed her cane at Abby, and she paled. Michael just smiled.
“You’re after them.” She jabbed the cane at him. He nodded regally. “Now move, Raine, we do not have all day.”
“I shall be delighted, Duchess,” Michael simpered.
“Perhaps Lord Raine is shy, Duchess.” Dimity thought she’d at least try to rescue him. After all he had rescued her. “I will read first.”
He shot her a grateful look.
“No, I’m tired of hearing your voice.”
“Charming.” Dimity nibbled her cake.
“Start at page one of the book you brought me, Raine.”
“Loaned you,” he corrected, and she had to admire him for that. Even looking uncomfortable again, he could still rebuke the duchess. Not many did that. But then this man had always spoken his mind and never stepped away from confrontation.
“Mr. Diard and Mr. Allard have arrived, Your Grace,” Chibbers said from the doorway.
“Excellent, and just in time.” The duchess thumped her cane.
In walked an elegantly dressed man. Slender, tall, with blond hair styled perfectly. His face was handsome, with high cheekbones and dark brown eyes. H
is soft gray coat was embroidered down the lapels in silver. His cuffs were lace. White breeches; an elaborately knotted necktie. His shoe buckles sparkled. The man at his side was smaller, with a solid build, his face pale, expression blank, and he wore a black jacket. Everything about him was the opposite of the man he assisted.
“Your Grace.” Diard bowed deeply. “I am most excited to meet with you.”
“Mr. Diard is here to paint my portrait,” the duchess said. “He has recently arrived from France. This is his assistant.” She waved to Mr. Allard, who was making his way to the far corner of the room, where he pulled out a chair and sat. “He has painted royalty and nobility, and now I am paying him an exorbitant sum to paint me with Romulus.”
Dimity had heard the Frenchman was coming but had not expected someone quite so flamboyant.
“Do you read, Mr. Diard?” the duchess asked. The man showed no surprise at the question.
“I do indeed, Your Grace. It is a particular fondness of mine,” he said, instantly endearing himself to the woman, if that was possible.
“Excellent, you can go after those three.” She waved her cane at the Deville siblings. “Find a seat,” she added, as if it was an everyday occurrence to have the portrait painter sitting down with nobility and a chaperone.
The duchess was nothing if not unconventional, Dimity had soon realized after arriving in her household.
“Mr. Alexander Hetherington, Mr. Benjamin Hetherington,” Chibbers announced grandly from the door.
“Saved by the noblemen,” Dimity heard Lord Raine mutter. “It’s getting quite crowded in here.”
“You are late, Hetheringtons!” the duchess bellowed.
“For what?” Alexander Hetherington strode in, followed by his brother. Bowing before the others, he shot Dimity a smile. “Raine, fancy seeing you here, and your delightful sister and brother also. How are you, Abigail? That reprobate you married not giving you any trouble, I hope?”
Dimity had never met the Hetherington twins before, but the duchess talked endlessly of them. In fact, they were possibly the only men she truly respected. Not that you could drag that confession from her. The duchess, Dimity had observed, liked people to think she cared for no one, but secretly she did.
Twins they may be, she thought, studying the Hetheringtons, but they could not be more different. Alexander was elegantly dressed in a smoky-gray jacket, his necktie folded several times but not overstated. “Stylish” was the only word she could use to describe him. Even his hair was perfection. His brother, however, had his collar turned in, and the back of his hair stood off his head.
Benjamin had the bigger build but was equally as handsome. Dimity thought that perhaps he didn’t have his brother’s confidence, but then, as she knew nothing about it, that was speculation.
“Hello, Alex. We are here to see Miss Brown. Dimity was my piano teacher before she became the duchess’s companion,” Abby said. “And my husband is quite wonderful, thank you. I shall tell him you asked after him.”
“Was she, by jove.” He looked back to Dimity. “A very elegant and beautiful piano teacher at that.”
“And you are married,” Lord Raine growled, brows drawn in a fierce frown.
“The day I stop flirting is the day my wife will think I’m about to pass into the afterlife, Raine. What has you out of sorts?”
“I am being forced into reading, Hetherington, and have no wish to,” he said so the duchess clearly heard. She ignored him.
“I’m afraid there will be no escape. Trust me, I have attended plenty of these things. Now, perhaps someone will introduce me to the other guest in the room?” Alexander softened his words with a smile as he looked at Mr. Diard, who seemed to be enjoying himself and not at all upset by the turn of events.
Introductions were made, seats brought forward, and tea poured.
“Really?” Alexander said, smiling, to Mr. Diard. “It’s my hope you can work miracles, seeing as your subject is a crotchety old woman.”
“Ah, but with such a pretty face, I will not need a miracle, sir.” Mr. Diard’s smile slipped slightly.
“Excellent, you have commissioned a blind man, Duchess. Well done.”
The duchess jabbed Alexander Hetherington hard in the leg. “You will go first for that comment.”
Mr. Benjamin Hetherington studied the gathering. “Clearly there are enough of us to make up an impromptu literary salon.”
“I have never been part of a literary salon, impromptu or not,” Lord Raine said, looking to the door. “I have no wish to change that circumstance.”
Dimity wondered if he would make a run for it.
“Raine,” Benjamin said, “it is best not to fight it. Take me, I am here as I was promised pie and ale after my brother’s small errand, which had I been more aware, I would have understood meant we were entering the dragon’s den.”
“Oh come now, it is hardly my fault you rarely have your wits about you,” Alexander said.
Dimity tried to ease away from the noblemen and Abby, only to have Lord Raine rise and block her path.
“Excuse me.”
“We are having a literary salon, it seems. I think everyone should be made to suffer.”
“I should not be here.” Dimity tried to edge around him.
“Why?”
“Don’t be foolish, you know very well that companions don’t participate in such things. They sit quietly in the corner doing something like….” She looked around her.
“Reading or knitting, perchance?”
“The Duchess of Raven and Lady Levermarch,” Chibbers said in a carrying tone.
The duchess sailed in first, dressed in the palest lemon. Dark-haired and exquisite, she was, so Dimity had heard, as staff talked, one of society’s most beautiful women. Only eclipsed by the lady at her side.
“So much beauty cannot be good for a man’s heart.” Alexander Hetherington clutched his chest dramatically. “It was my fear when you two became friends that people would be intimidated seeing you together. It seems my fears are founded.”
“Idiot.” Lady Levermarch dismissed his words with an elegant flick of her wrists. “We saw you and Ben entering and gathered something was afoot.”
She wore cream with a soft rose stripe. Her pelisse was matching, and Dimity had to admit that they were possibly the most beautiful women she’d ever seen.
Chapter Fourteen
“Alexander can read first. His voice doesn’t grate like others,” the duchess said, scowling. “We shall read book four of Captain Broadbent and Lady Nauticus.”
“Really?” Alexander brightened. “I was sure you were dragging out that tattered copy of Lucan.”
“No!” Her scowl darkened. “Now read.”
“Didn’t Captain Broadbent sever a limb in book three?” the Duchess of Raven asked anyone who would answer.
“Nearly,” Gabe said. “It was caught in the window as he leapt from the third floor when the fire started. Lady Nauticus saved him by tying him with a length of rope to the bed post. She then used her knife to unscrew the window and release him.”
“That’s right,” Lady Levermarch said. “And they lowered themselves to the ground using the rope, thus evading the fire. Terribly brave, I thought.”
“That was where the story ended,” Gabe added.
“Well, begin then.” The duchess scowled.
Gabe knew better. She was extremely happy about the fact she had some of society’s most powerful people in her front parlor. This impromptu literary salon would be gossip fodder within hours.
“My wife thinks my voice quite soothing,” Benjamin said from his position beside the tea tray, which he was slowly eating his way thorough. “Chibbers, I think we need the refreshments refreshed.”
“Your wife is still blind with love, Benjamin. Give her time, she will see you as the rest of us do,” his brother said, looking through the pages of Gabe’s book.
“Tall and handsome? The opposite of you, do you mean, Alex?�
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“They sound exactly as we do,” Michael said to Gabe. He seemed to be enjoying the experience.
“I’m not entirely sure what I’ve strayed into,” Gabe said to Dimity, who like him was now standing to one side. “But I’m entirely sure I wish I had not strayed into it.”
“You seem to know a great deal about the book.”
“I enjoy the escapism,” he said honestly. “It’s so unbelievable, it’s funny.”
“I will have to make sure to read it then.”
“I have the books should you wish to borrow them.”
“Thank you.”
“I could have them delivered here?” Gabe said.
“Ssssh, now.” The duchess interrupted them. “Everyone take your seats, and Alexander will read to us.”
“I will leave you now, Your Grace.”
“No, you won’t, Dimity. Escape is impossible. Sit,” Gabe said.
“Oh, I—”
“Do as he says, gal!”
Abby scurried round the sofa and into a chair as if she’d been told off. The Duchess of Raven, who Gabe doubted had ever scurried a day in her life, walked gracefully to the sofa and sat. Lady Levermarch chose a chair, which she glided into elegantly.
“Sit, Gabe,” Abby hissed as he followed the reluctant Dimity. He took the seat to his sister’s right once more, and Dimity was to his left. Beside her was Mr. Diard, who took her hand and kissed it. Gabe swallowed his growl.
“Have you participated in these before, Duchess?” Gabe dragged his eyes from Dimity to speak to the Duchess of Raven.
“I haven’t, Raine.” She turned to look at him. “I have heard about them, and my brother Cambridge was lucky enough to be in the park one day when the duchess called one from her carriage. He said it was a great deal of fun.”
“I hardly dare to ask.”
“Apparently the other carriages and horses formed a circle, and the book was passed between. I heard that the Duke of Stratton was present and read a passable Antonio, as it was The Merchant of Venice being read, from his carriage doorway. I can’t believe you’ve never heard about the duchess’s impromptu salons, Lord Raine.”
