“Ha! I’d take that wager in a second!” Aunt Sophy cackled. Turning to Aunt Dora, she said, “Lend me a few quid so I can prove this one wrong.”
Aunt Dora waved away Aunt Sophy’s comment with a roll of her eyes.
“I don’t think I could ever try on my wedding gown again,” Aunt Rosalind said, I just couldn’t even bear to look at it. Too many memories of my lovely Charles.” She sniffled, blinking back tears.
Serafina reached over and gave Aunt Rosalind’s hand a gentle squeeze.
The other duchesses grew quiet as they all did from time to time when they thought about their late husbands. Serafina knew the pain of loss. Although their grief was always there, the Golden Duchesses had taught her that true love was always worth it. Worth the inevitable pain of losing the love of one’s life.
“Will you be seeing your young man today?” Aunt Sophy asked.
“He’s not my young man, Aunt Sophy,” Serafina said. Heat colored her face—her fair complexion was always giving her away. She had a feeling something like this would happen by allowing Mr. Kerr to escort her home and introducing him to her aunts.
Why had she done that?Because you enjoyed his company, a voice from within answered her.
“Please don’t refer to him that way,” she added. “I had only just met him when he helped me rescue Willow.” Although she did find Mr. Kerr most appealing. A delicious feeling had warmed her from that very first moment.
She couldn’t say how or why she’d felt that way but knew better than to confide her feelings to her aunts. Knowing them, they’d start planning her wedding. Good Lord! She must stop feeling this way about Mr. Kerr, she reprimanded herself. She had far too many things to do to try to ensure the tearoom was a success. And she did hope that it would be. She did not want to let her Uncle Carlton and Aunt Catherine down. They had invested so much time, effort, and funds in the venture, along with the consortium of investors working with her uncle. No, she was no longer that flighty young miss from two years ago, who fell for a handsome face and an appealing smile.
“Dora, it was a good idea to invite Mr. Kerr to show us his work. It’ll also give me a chance to figure out where I know him…or his people are from. That face—I know I’ve seen it before. Dear me, it’s most disconcerting when the memory starts to fade.”
“Oh, Dora! Do you think discussing the painting this early is wise?” Aunt Rosalind asked. “I mean, we haven’t even decided what colors to wear. And that’s very important.”
“Of course, we must have a date, dear Rosalind,” Aunt Dora said patiently. “We can visit the modiste soon if needs be. But we can’t just keep talking about doing a portrait of all of us without making plans.”
“Oh, dear, I know you’re right. I can’t decide if I should wear my light blue day gown or the light pink silk I’m so fond of.” Aunt Rosalind said, her eyebrows furrowed in indecision. “I love the blue, but the pink brings out the rose in my cheeks, don’t you think? No, no. I’m certain you are right, Dora. It would be best to visit the modiste,” she said. “Perhaps, I’ll have something new made.”
“Serafina, I asked the cook to make a few extra rashers of bacon for our Willow,” Aunt Sophy said.
Serafina nodded, grateful for Aunt Sophy’s kindness. “I’ll stop by the stable to check on Willow after breakfast,” Serafina said. “I’m anxious to see how she fares this morning.”
“I do hope the stablemaster was able to mend the dear little pup’s leg,” Aunt Rosalind said.
“As do I,” Aunt Dora said. “But we should figure out what to do with the little girl once she’s mended.”
“Well, perhaps we can give her to someone who could use the companionship of a little dog,” Aunt Bianca said. “And besides, you know how animals affect me. I begin to sneeze and my eyes water.”
“You have no problem with watering eyes or sneezing when you wear your fur-lined pelisse or those enormous ostrich feathers in your hats,” Aunt Sophy countered.
“Oh, that is because they have been properly cleaned and they are no longer alive,” Aunt Bianca huffed.
“Honestly, I hope the fashion of using fur and bird feathers goes out of style,” Aunt Rosalind said. “I don’t think it’s right.”
Serafina privately agreed. She longed for the day when thetonwould find something other than animal furs and feathers to decorate their clothing. The cruelty that took place for the sake of fashionable garments was horrific.
“Leave her be, Bianca,” Aunt Sophy insisted. “No one teases you about that raggedy green and yellow bird that you call a parrot— And don’t pretend that we don’t know that you’ve moved it from the conservatory to your bedchamber. It squawks all night. I swear it belonged to a pirate before you purchased it.”
“That’s nonsense. It belonged to the cousin of Mr. Stakes, the apothecary. He told me that it sings like an angel.”
“You mean like a cat in heat, don’t you?” Aunt Dora quipped.
Aunt Bianca gave her friend a narrow-eyed glare. “Mrs. Marvel does not sound like a cat in heat. I simply need to teach her a few songs, and she will perform beautifully.”
“Surely you jest?” Aunt Sophy said. “And don’t deny the only reason why you purchased her is so that you could boast to Lady Thornhill.”
“Well, she claims her canary is brilliant and can play the pianoforte,” Bianca huffed. “When I asked her to show me, she said Mr. Feathers was resting due to a cold. Imagine naming your bird Mr. Feathers!”
“Yes, it’s almost as silly as naming your bird Mrs. Marvel,” Aunt Rosalind whispered to Serafina, whose lips twitched with humor.
