Slade opened the door to his mother’s apartment, startling both his mother and sister. They looked up and immediately ran to hug him.
“Son! You have returned,” his mother gushed, hugging him before stepping back and looking at him. “Welcome home. We have missed you . . .Ihave missed you.”
“How is he faring?” He looked directly at his mother, determined to know anything she might hold back.
“Not well. He is looking for you,” she replied, her voice choked with emotion.
“What of my brother’s betrothed . . . Lady Caroline Evers? Is she in residence with us?” He hated to ask of her because it meant saying her name. She had been betrothed to his brother, but Slade found it hard to be in the woman’s company for reasons he could not adequately enumerate. On the surface, she was an outrageous flirt, even with the betrothal and the gossip sheets had been unkind. Still, her brother had gone along with the betrothal, which had been maddening. The woman was not who he would have seen Graham marry.
His mother’s demeanor turned cool. “She has sent her condolences for your father and said she will be here for Graham as soon as possible.”
“Interesting.” He expected chastisement from his mother on his slight disparagement towards Lady Caroline Evers. No. His mother nearly looked away, unwilling to share her own opinion. Slade wondered what held Lady Evers’ interest in remaining in Brighton had been—a slight his mother had not missed.
So, his mother had also discovered the thinness of Lady Evers’ affections. He had always suspected as much with the woman.Actions speak louder than words, as his father had been fond of saying. If the woman had cared for his brother, she would have moved heaven and earth to be by his side. He was thankful she had not made the journey, as he found it hard to maintain civility in her presence.
He followed his mother as far as her rooms and promised to see her in the morning. Right now, he needed to see Graham.
Two
A week later
Dover, England
Lady Arabella Stewart leaned into her looking glass and pinched her cheeks, adding more natural color to the small dab of blush her lady’s maid had given her. She would not dare add more from the blush pot, as Father would have made her wash her face again, only to start over. He disapproved of thepretentiousness, as he called it, that makeup offered. Not that she wished to defy the wishes of her dear father, but her features were drab, and in her opinion, they needed warming up. It was a term Mary, her maid, always used.Let’s warm up those cheeks, milady, she would say. Mary said she recalled being told that as a child and used the phrase often.
Bella, as everyone called her, had met Mary as a child in Hyde Park. The little girl had wandered into the duck pond and there was nary an adult nearby. She had looked so dirty, and her clothing had been torn. Bella’s governess, Miss Shires, snatched up the child and took her home with them. “We will see what Lady Stewart says, but my instincts tell me that this child needs better circumstances,” she said.
Bella had been five, but her memory of that day was crystal clear. A man chased their carriage as they left the park. His black hat and his clothing were ragged and dirty. Miss Shires contended he had Mary at the park trying to teach her to pickpocket. Instead, the child had taken residence in the pond with the ducks, splashing and carrying on. He must have seen her leave, but from the back, most carriages looked the same, so once they were out of the park, she was safe.
For years, Mary had worn Bella’s cast-offs. With their age difference as narrow as it was, and their sizes similar, Mary received all of Bella’s clothing once Bella grew out of them or discarded them for newer ones. This had continued for years. Bella was one year shy of her twentieth birthday, and it was the Season. Expecting she might find a match, she had begged her mother to allow Mary to stay with her, should she make a match. Her mother liked Mary and had relented, thinking two sisters could not have been closer. She felt her daughter and Mary would be safe.
“Milady, are you excited about our trip to town today? I am to accompany you, so you will have time to spend in the bookshop.”
“You do not fool me, Mary,” Bella laughed. “You want to spend time in the bookshop, just as much as I do. Try not to be obvious. Mr. Greene, the proprietor, knows you read, but many of his patrons will not approve.” She looked at her friend. “I wish it was different, But Mama says, change comes one brick at a time. You know how to read, so that is a gift you can share with another.”
“I appreciate all that your mother and you have done to help me,” Mary said. “I feel blessed that Miss Shire grabbed me from that pond and took me home.”
“I am too. You are more like a sister to me than Paulette,” Bella sighed, deftly taking out the smudge pot and adding to what Mary had already done to her eyelashes.
“Milady!” Mary feigned irritation with her hands on her hips. “Yer mother will notice if yer father does not.”
“Your,” Bella corrected.
“Your,” Mary repeated quietly. “I try to speak correctly with you, but I cannot afford to appear better than the other servants in the house. I do not want to stir up a hornet’s nest. They assume we are friends, but there’s only so much they can bear of my acting above them in my speech.”
“I understand,” Bella said. And she did understand. “’Tis just important to me you have an education and know how to speak properly. You have always been good to me, and I only want the best for you.”
“Thank you, milady.” Mary finished Bella’s hair and handed her mistress a looking glass.
“I love it, Mary. It is exquisite!” Mary had carefully crafted a lovely handful of curls and fashioned them into a loosely braided bun on the back of Bella’s head and allowed long strands of barrel-curls to cascade down beneath it. She had woven thin pink and white ribbons throughout the hair, creating a delicate look.
“Your dark tresses look lovely with that pink and white striped chiffon walking dress.” It had white lace at the collar and sleeves and pearl buttons on the front with a pink satin ribbon that ran under her breasts. Mary had taken another ribbon and threaded it through her hair, having it become part of the braided bun.
“The carriage should be downstairs. Mama is entertaining. I say we go as quickly as possible before I get drawn into the parlor with my mother’s callers,” Bella suggested, grabbing the matching pink and white parasol, gloves, and straw bonnet.
“You can be a wicked girl,” Mary shot back playfully.
Bella knew she needed to be less friendly with Mary, but just could not pull it off when they were alone. Mary was her confidant in all things. She had close friends outside of the house, but Mary had always been here with her. It felt natural to turn to Mary.
