A shrug. “For underneath. Silk pantaloons—drawers—new stays. A chemise. Two night rails.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Your mother did.”
Rose exchanged a look with Sarah. “Mymother?”
“Yes. She said it was because she had put you through so much with Lady Cecily’s wedding. There is a whole trousseau—to be delivered after the wedding—when you settle. But I thought you would want these things before.”
Rose took the box gingerly. “Thank you.” She swayed again, and Sarah lifted the box from her hands as Madame Adrienne took her arm and helped her step down from the box.
“You need rest,cherie. Which, if I read your man right, you will not get much of over the next week.” Rose felt the heat rising in her cheeks, and Madame Adrienne laughed. “I will have the dress to you by tomorrow afternoon. One less worry for your exhausted mind.”
“Thank you.”
Rose and Sarah returned to the carriage that had ferried them to a half-dozen errands that day, returning home to find a note from Thomas—and her mother—waiting in her office. Lady Dorothea sat behind the desk, the household ledgers open in front of her, flipping through the pages. Her expression could have been no more confused if the ledger entries had been written in Sanskrit. The note with the familiar left-slanted writing lay near her mother’s elbow.
“Mother? What are you doing?”
“I—I do not know what I am going to do without you. It’s been so long since I have done any of this.” She waved her hand over the desk.
Rose removed her bonnet and set her reticule on the edge of the desk, ignoring the temptation to pick up the note. “I’m not moving to America, Mother. I will help you adjust. You did it before.”
“Yes, but I was not very good at it. Not the way you are.”
“That’s not—”
Lady Dorothea looked up at her. “It most certainly is true. And it is most impolite to argue with your mother.”
“Oh, should today be different?”
Lady Dorothea’s eyes flashed for a moment, then she slowly smiled. “You would not be worthy of a duke’s son had I not pushed you into this.”
Rose opened her mouth to argue, but resisted. In some odd way, her mother was correct. “For that, I am grateful.”
Lady Dorothea laughed. “No, you are not, and we both know it. I am spoiled and set in my ways, and I pushed you into this because I did not want to do it, and we all thought you would be a spinster. It gave you something to do.” She paused. “But I am glad that it’s part of what drew Lord Newbury to you. I had hoped he would develop an attachment to Cecily, but I would have to agree with Her Grace that he needs someone more like you than a young girl like your sister. Except for that business about heirs.”
“Mother—”
“It speaks well of him that he cares more for you than his lineage. Although it is fortunate he has brothers.”
“Mother—”
“I’ve invited Her Grace and Lady Elizabeth to tea tomorrow afternoon.”
Rose dropped into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What?”
“Well, you wouldn’t let me invite anyone else. Why you and Newbury insist on such a small affair is beyond me. He is the Duke of Kennet’s son. This could have been—”
“Do the words ‘one fortnight’ mean anything to you?”
“Christmas would have been better. They do put on such a lovely ball.”
Rose’s exhaustion swamped her. She had no fight for this. “Thank you for the trousseau.”
Lady Dorothea stopped. “Of course, my dear. You deserve that and more. If you had only let me—”
Rose put up a hand. “Can you just stop with ‘and more’? Just be my mother for five minutes?”
