Mrs. Dove-Lyon waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, the coronation will never take place this year.”
The earl scowled. “You cannot know that.”
The countess sighed. “Oh, Liam. Every woman in Society knows how the king feels about his wife. He would cut off his own nose if it meant preventing her from being queen. Postponing a coronation is child’s play for a man that spiteful.” Her words dropped to a whisper. “You need to listen to more gossip, less politics.”
The earl looked around the room, pausing on each face. He swallowed. “It appears I am routed.” He looked at his wife. “Are you ready for the scandal?”
She touched his cheek. “I am ready for a season in the country.”
He turned to Elspeth. “I will speak with the viscount when he returns. Are you ready for the direct cuts from the Society mavens?”
Elspeth slipped a hand around Timothy’s arm. “I am ready for a season in America.”
He addressed Timothy. “Sir, I acquiesce. If you will call on me at Inmarsh House tomorrow at ten, I will be ready to discuss the contracts with my solicitor. Do you have one you wish to bring?”
“I will bring my brother, Matthew, and his solicitor.”
“The duke.”
“Yes.” He stepped closer to the earl. “Sir, you may not believe this, but I wish to do this properly from this moment forth. And I promise I will do everything in my power to see to your daughter’s health and happiness.”
“See that you do. Because I am assured that if you do not, Ella will inform all of us, and you will have half of London down on your head.”
Timothy smiled, then turned and reached for Elspeth’s hand. “I believe, however, that if I act in any way untoward to her, Lady Elspeth can well take care of the matter herself.”
“And that,” whispered the countess, “is why they are well suited.”
Chapter Ten
Saturday, 13 May 1820
Lord Mark Rydell’s Bloomsbury residence
Nine in the evening
“This is impossible.He is going to hate me.”
Elspeth examined herself in the full-length mirror of the dressing room, looking for every possible flaw. Her hair was far-too red, her freckles too bright. Her night rail was too old, her feet too big, sticking out from beneath the beribboned hem like the ends of white rowing sculls. She was too old, her breasts beginning to droop, her hips too wide.
“I am hideous.”
Behind her Sinclair sighed as she finished braiding her hair. “My lady, you are beautiful. It is not as if the man has never laid eyes on you.”
“Not like this he has not.”
Sinclair picked at the shoulders of the night rail, fluffing it a bit. “Trust me, he will not be evaluating you for flaws. This is something women do to ourselves. He will have something else entirely on his mind.”
Elspeth’s cheeks heated. “I suspect I am not entirely prepared forthateither.”
“Let him worry about that.” Sinclair urged her to turn around. “Listen to me. You will go through that door, and nothing—and I mean nothing—will matter in that moment. You will see his eyes, and your world will change.”
“You have been through this, have you not,Mrs. Sinclair.”
Sinclair grinned. “I have. So I know whereof I speak.” She paused. “Now. The staff have all taken the rest of the afternoon off, so you are on your own. Cook left the kettle heating on the stove. Low, and it’s full, so it should not boil dry until the morning. But the water will be hot enough for tea later, and there is a tray on the kitchen table all ready for the water. There are scones on a covered plate if you are hungry.”
“After that breakfast, I doubt I will eat for days.”
Sinclair smile turned mischievous. “I would not count on that.” She went on. “Cook and two of the kitchen maids will return before dawn, but the other servants will return later. I’m going back to Inmarsh House to finish your packing. Send a hall boy to fetch me when you are ready for your bath. We are still departing on Tuesday?”
