Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (17 page)

Tea
was duly poured by Lady Whitcomb and Isobel and Adriana carried on a stilted
conversation while Lady Whitcomb remained unusually silent.

“How
did you find Warwick Park?” inquired Isobel.

“Much
the same as when I saw it years ago. I am sure it has not changed since you
were there last,” Adriana said.

“I
have only been to Warwick Park on three occasions. I was never overly fond of
it.” Isobel sipped her tea and shot her aunt another meaningful look.

Adriana
toyed with her teacup, her tea as yet untasted. “I have dreadful memories of
the place myself, but Reggie was enamored with the size of the park and the
large lake. I prefer Hidenwood.”

“Perhaps
Charles will invite you for a visit, though I do not think he will spend much
time there.” Isobel’s overly sweet tone rang false in the large room.

Lady
Warwick at last sipped her tea, not knowing what to say. Charles Aiken was
unlikely to speak to Adriana, never mind invite her on a visit to his unwanted
estate. Silence reigned for what seemed like an hour, but was but a few
minutes. Finally, Lady Whitcomb intervened.

“Lady
Warwick has returned your hack.” Lady Whitcomb said to Isobel in an offhand
manner.

Isobel
felt herself tense, her chin rose and she looked at Lady Warwick. “That was not
necessary, Lady Warwick, Bella is no longer my horse. I am finding this whole
bumble broth a bit vexing.”

“I
know what you are thinking, that out of pity I am returning your lovely Bella.
The truth is I have no need of another hack. She will not be ridden at Wren
House. No horse as noble as she should stand in a stall for weeks and months on
end. For the horse’s sake I beg you to take her back.”

“I
see.” Isobel fought an inner battle between her own longing and her pride. She
loved that horse and missed riding more than she could say, but never wanted to
be beholden to the house of Warwick. It was pointless to argue further. “I will
keep Bella here, thank you. It was excessively kind of you to deliver her in
person.”

Lady
Warwick was careful not to show how pleased she was. Isobel Kennilworth was an
exceedingly proud woman and she would not reverse her minor victory by
betraying her own emotions. “I am grateful to you, Miss Kennilworth. I hate to
see any animal neglected.”

“As
do I,” agreed Isobel.

“I
must tell you, Lady Warwick, that Isobel and I are terribly fond of this house.
We have settled in quite nicely.” Lady Whitcomb thought it best to change the
subject before Isobel changed her mind.

“I
am glad to hear it. It is a charming house; just the right size, I think,” Lady
Warwick said wistfully. “Wren House is so grand.”

The
three ladies were silent again, each sipping her tea or nibbling on a scone.
Lady Whitcomb once again broke the silence.

“I
do believe, though I hate to say it to you, that Mrs. Kitchen is a superior
cook to Mrs. Bromfield,” she said, looking lovingly at her scone.

“I
confess that I miss Mrs. Kitchen’s paella, but Mrs. Bromfield is an excellent
cook,” Lady Warwick said diplomatically. “Tell me, how is Jem?”

“He
keeps us amused. Of late he has taken to carrying a large toad around in his
pocket. I believe he misses young Reggie,” Lady Whitcomb added.

“Yes,”
piped up Isobel in an overly cheerful voice. “I am afraid he was quite put out
with me for not having a boy of my own. I am afraid I am a sad disappointment
to everyone.” Her smile trembled and she found refuge in her teacup.

“I
must really be going. Thank you so much for the tea.” Lady Warwick stood. “With
your permission, I will just stop in at the kitchen to greet Mrs. Kitchen and
the rest.”

“Of
course, of course, they would never forgive us if you came for a visit without
saying hello,” Lady Whitcomb said as she rose. Isobel followed suit and gestured
for Lady Warwick to follow her.

“Oh,
you need not bother. I know the way. Please, do not let me disturb you further.”
Turning to Isobel she added, “You are welcome at Wren House, Miss Kennilworth.
Please come whenever you wish.”

Lady
Warwick made her escape to the kitchen where she was welcomed with tears and
embraces.

*****

Adriana,
Lady Warwick was wrong in her estimation of Charles Aiken, for he was announced
the next day. He came, hat in hand, literally and she wondered why Sloane had
neglected to take it.

“Good
afternoon, Lady Warwick.” Charles said affably and then indicating his hat he
added, “I came in through the kitchen, a little habit of mine. I hope you do not
mind. Mrs. Bromfield always gives me tarts. Ancestral home and all that.”

“She
makes lovely tarts,” agreed Lady Warwick. “Please, will you not sit down, Lord Charles?
I shall ring for tea.”

Charles
placed his hat on a nearby table and sat. Tea was duly rung for and the two
strangers sat in silence, both feverishly trying to think of something to say. Lord
Charles began to fiddle with his watch fob and Lady Warwick noticed that one of
Lord Charles’ hands was bandaged. “You are injured. What has happened?” she
asked with concern.

“Oh,
nothing to speak of,” he answered evasively and then asked a question to cover
his discomfort. “How did you find Warwick Place?”

“It
was quite how I remembered it.” Lady Warwick spoke in her unusual fluent, but
accented English.

“Ah,”
was all Lord Charles could muster.

An
idea struck Lady Warwick. “I imagine you would like to see Reggie. Your first
meeting was…brief.”

“Oh,
well, don’t bother the boy. Not on my account,” muttered Lord Charles.

“Oh,
it is no bother. He will be thrilled to see his uncle again,” said Lady Warwick
ringing for Sloane.

“Uncle,
yes, of course.” Lord Charles fidgeted in his seat.

“Yes, Your Grace?” intoned Sloane.

“Please
send to the nursery for Lord Warwick. He has a visitor.”

The
tea arrived just before two small blurs cannoned into the room. The first was
Reggie, the young duke; the second was a floppy eared puppy Lord Charles
recognized as a Springer Spaniel. The boy ran to his mother and the pup
followed.

“Mama,
am I to have tea with you? Duke wants some, too!” The young Duke of Warwick
could barely contain his excitement.

“Reggie,
mind your manners and say hello to your Uncle Charles,” Adrianna chided gently.

The
boy turned to look at his uncle, wariness replacing his delight. The boy
remembered the angry man and hid behind his mother’s skirts. The puppy,
however, had no such reservations. He awkwardly bounded in and around Lord
Charles’ legs, even stepping on his own long ears. It was a comical sight to
see and Lord Charles began to chuckle, rubbing the scamp’s head. The small dog
became even more frantic with pleasure and finally collapsed in a heap on the
floor, while Charles bent down and rubbed the puppy’s belly with his good hand.

He
addressed his nephew, “You call him Duke?”  he asked.

Young
Reggie nodded and edged out from behind his mother. “My daddy was a Duke and I
miss him, so I named my dog Duke, too.”

Lord
Charles, unwillingly touched, stood, much to Duke’s disappointment. “That is a
very good name. Is he one of Mina and Rufus’ pups?”

Again,
the boy nodded, surprised. “You know Mina and Rufus?”

“Of
course; they were my dogs. I grew up at Warwick Park, you know. Your daddy was
my brother.”

Reggie
now stood apart from his mother, appraising his uncle. “Are you going to shout
again?”

Lord
Charles colored and looked at the boy apologetically. “No, I shan’t yell
anymore. I am very sorry if I frightened you. I was very upset.”

“What
happened to your hand?” asked the young boy, taking his uncle at his word.

Lord
Charles wished the damned thing was not so obvious. “A little accident,” he
said simply and added to himself,
the blighted money lender’s goon
‘accidently’ crushed my hand.

Noticing
Lord Charles’ discomfort, Lady Warwick spoke up, “Let us have tea, shall we?”

The
three humans and one spaniel enjoyed the tea, especially Cook’s plum tarts.
Lord Charles entertained Reggie with exploits from his youth, spent primarily
at Warwick Park. Lady Warwick observed the puppy acting suspiciously and called
for a footman to take him outside. Reggie begged to accompany them and bid his
uncle farewell in a friendly fashion, evoking a promise that he would come
again to visit. Lady Warwick assumed Lord Charles would take his leave, but
Charles was not ready to do so. He hemmed and hawed for a few minutes before he
got to the point.

“This
has all been quite a shock, you know. Reginald’s will left me in a bind, not
that I begrudge you or young Reggie; it is simply that I am completely out of
funds and find I no longer have credit anywhere. I was hoping that you would be
able to help me out until I can get on my feet.”

Lady
Warwick had dreaded this moment, hoping it would never come. “Lord Charles,”
she began.

“Charles,
please. We are brother and sister after all,” bestowing an impish smile on Adriana.

“Charles,”
began Lady Warwick, again unable to conjure up a smile. “I wish that I could,
but I promised Reginald faithfully on his deathbed that I would not.”

“What?”
exclaimed Lord Charles.

“When
he was dying, he made me promise that I would not advance you funds, nor pay
any of your debts. I did not want to, but he was determined and he was dying. I
could not refuse him.” Lady Warwick had tears in her lovely dark eyes.

“But
he is dead. He will not know,” Charles pointed out desperately.

“But
I will know. I will not dishonor my husband by not keeping my vow. I am so
sorry.”

Charles
just stared at her in frustration. He could not speak, but grabbed his hat
knocking a china dog to the floor causing it to splinter into a thousand
pieces. Ignoring it, he turned on his heel and left. A moment later, Lady
Warwick heard the heavy front door slam shut with a deafening thud.

Andrew
Stafford, Viscount Saybrooke gracefully took his mother’s white gloved hand and
helped her into their crested coach, then climbed in behind her. The footman
shut the door behind him and the carriage rumbled off to the Gilchrest’s ball.
The Dowager Viscountess Saybrooke looked her very best tonight in emerald silk,
with the Saybrooke emeralds about her neck, matching earbobs, and topped off
with an emerald and diamond tiara in her sand-colored hair flecked with gray.

“You
look quite dazzling tonight, Mama,” complimented her son, who himself looked
his very best in a black coat and pantaloons, and a crisp white shirt and necktie
tied in what Wilkes had called the waterfall. All Saybrooke knew was that he
had to sit an inordinately long time for the valet to accomplish the task of
tying it.

“Aren’t
you the obedient son giving your aged Mama such a pretty compliment.” Lady Saybrooke
gave her son a suspicious smile.

“I
speak only the truth. And as to being obedient, I am trying Mama.”

“I
know you are, Andrew. And I am thoroughly enjoying being squired about to all
the
ton
events by my handsome, but reclusive son. I only wish you would
derive a bit of pleasure from the experience,” said his mother, patting his
hand.

“Again,
I am trying, but I find little pleasure in romancing overdressed chits barely
out of the school room.”

“Is
it so horrible being the catch of the season?” asked Lady Saybrooke with a
wicked grin.

“In
fact it is. You know I do not care to hunt, Mama,” said Saybrooke inexplicably.
Lady Saybrooke looked at him, perplexed. He continued. “I am disturbed by the
thought of the poor fox, vermin though he may be, cowering in the shadows, set
upon by beasts with sharp fangs and claws. It is even more disturbing to be the
fox.”

“Come
now, not every young lady is a bloodthirsty predator.”

“If
they are not, their mamas are,” Saybrooke said with a sigh.

This
Lady Saybrooke could not refute and so redirected the conversation. “I have
noticed you dance with Miss Hyde-Price on a number of occasions. She seems a
sweet girl, and well-to-grass. Her dowry is rumored to be twenty thousand
pounds. ”

“I
cannot contradict your second assertion, but your first is far afield.”
Saybrooke looked out of the window impatiently. The coach had arrived at the
Gilchrist’s large townhouse in Berkeley Square, but the line of carriages
stretched down the block and they had to wait their turn to disembark.
Saybrooke, having no wish to prolong this discussion with his mother, sighed
with exasperation. “If we had gone by foot we would be in the ballroom by now.”

“And
you would have been spared this conversation,” said Lady Saybrooke knowingly.

“That
would have been an added advantage.” Saybrooke agreed.