She wouldn’t ask anyone else, but Henry was his aunt’s maid and confidant. “Is Dauntry wealthy in his own right?”
“There’s many richer, dear, but his uncle had a way with money and left him well provided for. With all my worldly goods...” she reminded.
Which meant, in theory, Kitty was also now well provided for.
She studied herself in the mirror. The dull green was an excellent background for the shawl, but as the deeply embroidered ends were now behind, it didn’t look completely outrageous. The embroidery running along the edges was simply pleasing.
“Very well. Which door across the way enters the dowager’s boudoir?”
“The second. Cullinan will be with her.” It was a warning.
“You don’t have a high opinion of her?”
“I can’t decide if she’s haughty or uncouth, but I’ve no time for her.”
Kitty was surprised to hear such disdain. “Perhaps you could test her out by asking advice.”
“Fromher?”
“Not about your work,” Kitty said quickly. “About where something is, perhaps.”
Henry’s ruffles smoothed down. “I could do that, I suppose, though she’s the last I’d ask in the normal way of doing things. I see her only at meals. She’s the sort who spends all her time with her mistress.”
“Is that common?”
“With some. Like a lady-in-waiting at court, always to hand. But that went out of fashion when bells became common. Most people don’t want servants at their elbow all the time, seeing and hearing everything.”
“I certainly wouldn’t. Not even you, Henry. I would like a deeper opinion of Cullinan, however.”
“Quite the little general, aren’t you, dear?”
It was said with a smile, so Kitty didn’t object. “I lived with soldiers for so long that I’m used to looking at the world that way. Here it seems appropriate. I’m going to leave Sillikin with you. I don’t think she’ll need anything whilst I’m on the far side of the world.”
“Where there be dragons?”
“Precisely. Into the fray.”
Kitty crossed the hall and knocked briskly on the second door. When it didn’t quickly open, she opened it herself and went in. “You wished to see me, ma’am,” she said cheerfully to the woman in black, equal to equal. “I’m sorry it didn’t seem convenient for us to meetyesterday. I completely understand that you were unable to travel to the wedding.”
The overheated room was crammed with expensive furniture and ornaments, its walls thick with paintings. The air hung heavy with rose perfume, wood smoke, and dog. Three tiny white dogs were appropriately all in the dowager’s ample black lap. The three of them would just about equal Sillikin.
The dowager stroked them with plump, beringed fingers. “See who we have here, my darlings. The new Viscountess Dauntry.”
She was fat, but could be described as comely, as some well-fleshed women could, with smooth, plump cheeks delicately aided by rouge. Her eyes were largely hidden by puffy lids. Black suited her, giving dignity to the mass, and her black cap with lappets and gauze veiling concealed most of her graying dark hair.
Kitty wondered for the first time how old she was. In her sixties, at least.
She was seated on a large chair that decidedly resembled a throne, her feet on an embroidered footstool. Kitty doubted even Queen Charlotte sat in a chair like that on a daily basis.
The maid was standing sentry just behind.
There was no sign of Isabella.
Kitty looked around, saw a straight chair with an upholstered seat, and moved it to a convenient spot, not too close to the fire, but facing the dowager. She sat and said, “Please accept my condolences on your losses, ma’am.”
“A hollow sentiment when it has provided you with such an opportunity.”
“I, too, grieve, ma’am—in my case, for my first husband.”
