“Voila, you may step down, your grace.” Finally.
Grace inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as she waited for the dressmaker to remove the fabric from her shift and reached for her dress, feeling moderately better once she was fully clothed again. She supposed she should be grateful she hadn’t actually fallen off the block while the woman poked and prodded her. “You will have this ready in time for the ball?”
The woman nodded, handing off the fabric to her assistant. “Bien sur. Of course, madam.”
Grace glanced at the clock. In another hour, she would be partaking of a light repast together with a well-bred though apparently, penniless lady whom Nicholas was considering employing as her companion. Initially, Grace had looked at her husband in horror when he’d broached the subject. She realised he was simply seeking to expand her education concerning the habits of London’s High Society lest she make a complete cake of herself – certainly a very strong possibility, Grace had to admit. However, it felt very much as though he was employing someoneto spy on her.
Guilty conscienceGrace supposed ruefully thinking of her earlier excesses as she made her way to the five o’clock appointment. Mrs Jenks had informed her that her guest – one Lady Felicity Beaumont – had arrived and had been placed in the small drawing room.
In truth, Grace realised that her husband was being extremely lenient in allowing her to interview Miss Beaumont alone, so it was imperative she didn’t let him down. Squaring her shoulders, Grace plastered on a determined smile and waved at Bailey to open the door.
“Her grace, the Duchess of Bla…”
His words stuttered to a halt as Grace stepped forward, caught her heel in the fringe of a rug and pitched forward her full length on the floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Grace didn’t move for a few appalled seconds. Her embarrassment was such that she wondered if she should simply lie there until someone came to take her to her bed where she would remain until she was at least ninety.
“The first rule of thetonmy dear, if you’re going to cause a scene, make sure you do it with style.” Grace looked up at the owner of the authoritative, if slightly dry, voice to her side.
“I should think you have sustained a fractured ankle at the very least,” the diminutive lady continued, her voice now firm and confident. “The rug in question is very clearly a hazard and should be removed forthwith.”
Grace managed to get to her knees, giving a small apologetic smile up at Bailey who was hovering anxiously at her other side, before turning back to the lady still regarding her quizzically.
“I fear it wasn’t this particular rug at fault madam, but rather my penchant for tripping up on any and all possible obstacles, however large or small they may be.”
“I think perhaps my version of events is much better, my dear,” the lady, who could only be Miss Beaumont, argued.
Climbing to her feet, Grace smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at telling untruths.”
“Then the members of thetonwill surely eat you alive, yourgrace.”
Blinking at her guest’s cutting assessment of her peers, Grace finally endeavoured to gather her wits and remember her manners. “Please be seated, Miss Beaumont. It was not my intention to prove just how much I need taking in hand, at least not on our first acquaintance. Mrs Jenks will bring us some tea shortly.”
Miss Beaumont gave a snort of laughter. “Well you certainly have wit girl, but that may not be enough to carry you through the snide comments and the malicious gossip that is most likely even now circulating the drawing rooms of London.”
Grace’s response was delayed as Mrs Jenks brought in a tray of tea and tiny cucumber sandwiches. Grace smiled up at the housekeeper in thanks, before eying the sandwiches, thinking they would be very unlikely to keep her stomach from complaining until supper. However, she gave no indication of her concern and managed to perform her duties as a hostess with the necessary aplomb, resulting in Miss Beaumont nodding her head approvingly.
Feeling a little more comfortable with the small though clearly formidable lady sitting opposite, Grace took a deep breath, deciding to voice her concerns.
“May I ask you a question, Miss Beaumont?”
“Felicity, please, your grace, and most certainly.”
“The gossip you speak of. Is that why we have received no callers?”
Her companion shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. “Very unlikely my dear. If anything, the juicier the on-dit, the more likely your front door will need replacing by the end of the season. No, your grace, the most likely reason you have yet to receive any callers is simply because there are hardly any ladies of your equal rank. They will no doubt be waiting breathlessly for you to call on them first. Of course, that will not happen untilafter you have made your formal bow.” Miss Beaumont paused and frowned slightly, placing her teacup down and partaking of a cucumber triangle.
“Under normal circumstances, I pay no heed to gossip -malicious or otherwise, but in this instance, I believe it may be of use to know what is being said, and I will therefore endeavour to find out what I can – discreetly of course.”
“I am very much obliged,” Grace responded with relief. “I think we shall deal very well together, Felicity.”
“That is certainly my hope, your grace…”
“Just Grace, please.”
Miss Beaumont nodded in acknowledgement, giving a slight smile.
