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Elizabeth waited until the duchess had rung for tea and taken her seat before sitting on the chair beside her.

“You are from Little Tilbury, I understand,” Lady Langton said.

“Yes, my lady. It’s the only place I’ve ever known.”

“It’s a pretty village,” she said. “With a very skilled seamstress.”

“Miss Berry,” Elizabeth guessed.

“The very same.” Lady Langton smiled. “I daresay you’ve benefited from her fine workmanship also.”

Elizabeth considered it imprudent to tell the noblewoman that she’d never had sufficient funds to purchase anything made by Miss Berry, but she was happy to tell of the seamstress’s generosity. “The last time I visited her shop, she gave me a beautiful piece of blue ribbon.”

Lady Langton appeared to ponder that information for a moment, and Elizabeth’s grip on her own fingers tightened. Why had she mentioned the gifted ribbon? Neither the viscountess nor the duchess could ever understand how much such a small thing had meant to her—which only went to prove how different their lives were from the one she knew. She was completely out of place here.

As though she could read Elizabeth’s thoughts, Lady Langton’s kind eyes met hers. “I believe I owe you my deepest gratitude, Miss Doyle.”

“Gratitude, my lady?” Elizabeth’s face hurt as she creased her brow. What could she have possibly done?

“I believe you are the one who took care of Reynard when he was first injured.” She offered Elizabeth a small smile. “That young man is rather dear to both the duchess and myself. We would have been quite devastated to lose him.”

Shock left Elizabeth temporarily speechless. That Reynard was considered a person of value to these noblewomen was a most unlikely tribute—not only to him but also to them. For a brief moment, she experienced a pang of envy. Not since her mother’s passing had anyone felt anything near so compelling for her.

“I did very little, my lady. When last I saw him, he was somewhat weak. I was grateful to hear that he has since recovered more fully.”

“All being well, he will regain his full strength very soon.” Lady Langton’s smile reached her eyes this time, but for the first time, Elizabeth noticed that they seemed unfocused.

“So tell us, Miss Doyle, when you are not stitching up wounded smugglers, how do you spend your time?” The duchess entered the conversation for the first time, and her expression spoke of genuine interest. “I should love to hear more of your adventures at the inn.”

At that moment, the tea tray arrived with a clatter of crockery, and Elizabeth seized the distraction to sort her jumbled thoughts. Was she truly to speak of smugglers, violence, or injuries? Mrs. Parkin would be horrified, and her rebuke of such an egregious slip of the tongue would be swift and sure. And yet, these noblewomen outclassed the vicar’s wife in every possible way, and she felt no judgment whatsoever.

She’d not anticipated how different it would be to sit in Langton Manor’s drawing room with them rather than at the parsonage with Mrs. Parkin. Although she’d never wished to offend Mrs. Parkin, she realized now that the fastidious woman’s opinion had never really mattered to her. In comparison, she unexpectedly found that she already cared rather deeply about what these two women thought.

Elizabeth waited until the duchess had served everyone tea. “I fear my life at the inn has been far less exciting than you believe,” she said. “Much of my time is spent doing housework, cooking, and serving the guests.”

“That must take a great effort,” Lady Langton said. “How many maids do you have helping you?”

“None, my lady. My mother passed away two years ago. Since then, I have done the work alone.”

“Good gracious!” The duchess’s shock was obvious. “Your father hired no outside help! If he’s been exacting that much work out of you, I’m surprised he was willing to relinquish you to anyone at all.”

Embarrassment deepened the colors on Elizabeth face. “I believe it fair to assume my father’s greed finally won out. Rather than offering a suitor a dowry, he exacted a high price in exchange for my hand.”

She fully expected to see pity or, even worse, contempt, in the duchess’s eyes, but instead, there was blazing indignation. “What kind of monster is your father, that he would sell his own daughter to the highest bidder?”

“The kind who would hit her,” Lady Langton said evenly. She set her teacup down on the end table beside the sofa before turning to face Elizabeth. “I have no doubt that Reynard will help you find your way, Miss Doyle, but until then, you are safe at Langton Manor. Unless you desire to do so, you need never return to the inn.”

Tears sprang to Elizabeth’s eyes. “I have done nothing to deserve such kindness, my lady,” she said.

Lady Langton reached out and gently patted Elizabeth’s hand. “I have always felt that the way to happiness is not to earn kindness but rather to freely give it. Each of us, no matter our station in life, can follow that simple precept, I think.”

Elizabeth nodded, not trusting her voice.

Thankfully, the duchess came to her rescue. “Let’s move on to a cheerier subject,” she said, raising the plate of dainty triangular sandwiches and offering it to them both. “What do you like to read, Miss Doyle?”

Lady Langton took a sandwich. “Yes. I should love to hear.”

“I own only two books,” Elizabeth said. “One is the Bible; the other is Gleanings of Natural History by Mr. George Edwards. The one I read because I know I ought, the other because I am fascinated by the many birds that live amongst us in the marshes.”