She answered politely, smiled when appropriate, and thought of her mother sitting in a quiet corner, already facing a different future.
At last, they found a pocket of relative peace near one of the tall windows. Dorothea approached, her posture as regal as ever, butthere was something in her expression that Gwen had learned to recognize as a softer undercurrent.
“Gwendoline,” she greeted. “Lady Cordelia.”
“Your Grace,” Cordelia murmured, rising. “Thank you again for your hospitality. I know you did not need to include me in today’s festivities.”
“Nonsense,” Dorothea said. “You are the mother of the bride. Tradition demands it. I am occasionally fond of tradition.” She hesitated, then added, “I wished to speak with you in private, Lady Cordelia. If you can bear a few more minutes in company.”
Cordelia folded her hands. “Of course.”
Dorothea’s voice lowered slightly. “Some of us widows have a little society. An informal one. We call it a club, though it is really an excuse to escape our houses and husbands’ ghosts for a few days at a time. We travel to Bath or Brighton, take waters, sit in drawing rooms, and pretend we are half our age. I think you would benefit from such nonsense.”
Cordelia blinked. “A widows’ club?”
“Not officially,” Dorothea replied. “The name would terrify our sons. We call it a reading excursion. It has the same effect and fewer questions.”
Gwen almost smiled. “You wish to invite my mother.”
“Yes,” Dorothea said. “If she will come. She has had too much of one man’s temper and too little of her own wishes. A week or two away, in the company of women who understand quiet suffering and loud laughter, might do her good.”
Cordelia looked overwhelmed. “I do not know what to say.”
“Say that you will consider it,” Dorothea replied. “We are not going anywhere, and neither are you. Time is no longer his to command.”
Cordelia’s gaze dropped. “There is William.”
“Your son may visit Rosewood,” Dorothea suggested briskly. “He will find no shortage of trees to climb, I am certain. And his sister has already informed me that she intends to smother him with attention.”
Gwen smiled. “After our honeymoon, I would be delighted to have him for a time. He can torment Victor’s dogs and terrorize the stable boys. It will be very healthy for him.”
Victor, hearing his name, turned from his conversation with Roderick and another gentleman. “Who is going to torment whom?”
“William will visit us,” Gwen announced. “I am planning his mischief already.”
Victor’s mouth curved. “I see my hounds have an uncertain future.”
“They will adore him,” Gwen assured him. “Children and dogs always do well together. Better than children and fathers, in some cases.”
Dorothea’s eyes softened as she watched them.
Before Gwen could say more, Arabella came bouncing toward them like a particularly enthusiastic songbird, with Eleanor hot on her heels.
“Gwen!” she cried. “I have just met the most delightful man.”
“Of course you have,” Gwen said fondly. “You cannot be left unattended for more than ten minutes.”
“It was not my fault,” Arabella protested. “The Dowager Duchess introduced him. It would have been rude not to be delightful in return.”
Roderick followed a few steps behind, smiling with the easy charm that had always made Gwen slightly wary on other women’s behalf. He bowed to Gwen and Cordelia, then to Dorothea.
“Duchesses. Lady Cordelia,” he greeted. “I feel outnumbered.”
“Duke,” Gwen returned. “You have met my friends, I see.”
“Miss Barker and Miss Arabella,” he acknowledged. “A pleasure. Roderick Hales, devoted friend to your new brother in misery.”
“Misery,” Gwen repeated, amused.
