“I suppose it looks . . . comfortable. And we are not entertaining today, so no one beyond these walls should see it.”
“Well, many others have already seen it in town, so I doubt they would be too shocked,” Louisa said with a snarky grin.
“Yes, but you were not a duchess then.” The dowager eyed her gown once more. “Truly, I do not mean to offend you. But I will tell you something from personal experience. Now that you are a duchess, you shall be viewed by society through a more scrupulous lens.”
“Thank you for caring enough to warn me,” Louisa said, keeping her voice calm. She did not personally worry over what others said or thought about her. Especially concerning something as silly as a gown that was slightly out of style. And it wasn’t as if she was wearing a rag. It had been the height of fashion only two years ago.
“Now, on to other matters,” the dowager said with a clap. “We shall be going over the menu for next week, two nights of which we will have guests.” Then she turned and left the room.
“And who is coming?” Louisa asked as she trailed after her.
“Lord and Lady Haddington one evening, and Lord Drake and my daughter Jessica another.”
“Wonderful,” Louisa said. Which was a complete and utter lie. Lady Jessica was the world’s worst gossip, and Louisa was now in the unfortunate situation of being her sister-in-law. “I look forward to it.”
Her mother-in-law stopped, turning toward her. “You know, I believe Robert was correct. You will make a perfect duchess.”
Louisa froze. “Excuse me?”
“Your lie was most convincing.” She grinned. “If it were not for years of my own practice, I wouldn’t have been able to tell.”
Louisa licked her lips as she tried not to smile. “I suppose I cannot hide myself around you, then?”
“No.” Her mother-in-law’s smile widened. “And please call me Arabella.”
Louisa opened her mouth to respond, but only stood there gaping like a fish out of water as Arabella spun about and strode toward the kitchen. How could she go from insulting her to asking Louisa to call her by her Christian name? Unless she was being honest and had mentioned her outdated gown with the true intention of helping her.
That would track with how Robert was, Louisa supposed. Perhaps he was like his mother. Direct. Composed. Preferring honesty over flattery.
Louisa looked up, but Arabella had disappeared—and Louisa could not recall the way to the kitchen.
“Drat,” she hissed. Hoping something would prompt her memory, she pressed down the hall until she was forced to turn either right or left. The odds were in her favor, her choices being only two. If she was wrong, she would simply turn back. But as she took one turn after another, she became too confused to remember which waywasthe way back.
“Wonderful, Louisa. You have become lost in your own house.”
A throat cleared somewhere in the hall and Louisa spun about with a hand to her heart.
“No need to run screaming,” Robert said, keeping his distance.
She took a soothing breath. While the hall was dim, she could tell it was Robert from his no-nonsense tone. “Goodness, where did you come from?” She lowered her hand.
He jerked his head to a door down the hall. “My office is just there.”
“Oh. I see. And the kitchen is where in regards to your office?”
“The kitchen?” He raised his brow. “You are nowhere near the kitchen, I am afraid.”
“Perfect.” She sighed, throwing up her hands. “I look like a simpleton within the first few days of being the mistress of Stonemoore.”
Robert briefly glanced behind him. “I thought you were with my mother?”
“I was,” she admitted. “But I became distracted and she left without me.”
“Distracted? You?”
Goodness, didn’t he have better things to do than question her? Or, better yet, he could tell her the way to the kitchen and they could both get on with their day. She felt a fool getting lost. If a servant oranyoneelse would have found her . . .
“Yes. I was noticing some similarities between you and your mother, and I suppose I did not notice when she walked ahead.”
