Page 74 of Lady for a Season
“The King outranks us all and he has been set aside for the Prince Regent.”
“Because he is truly out of his wits, poor soul. Edward is not, never was, mad. He was frightened and broken and sent away so that his father could pretend he did not exist. He is quite sane. And he has grown into his manhood under your care, Maggie. He is not the poor boy he was when he first went into Doctor Morrison’s so-called care. He is finding his courage and true self. But he needs more time. And he needs a loving and loyal wife.”
“Miss Belmont…”
“Miss Belmont is a mouse. She will be crushed by the Duchess in a matter of months, if not weeks. He will fall prey to doubts about himself, he has had less than a year to believe those doubts to be untrue.” He reached out and took Maggie’s hand again. “If you will not marry me, tell Edward how you feel, at least. Give him the chance to decide who is the right woman for him to marry.”
“If he tried to marry me, he would be locked up as mad for the rest of his life.”
“If he loses you, he will lose himself. Think on it, Maggie.” He rose to leave but paused by the doorway. “And my offer still stands, Maggie. Should you ever wish to leave the Buckinghams, you have only to ask, and I will leave at your side.”
The first of June brought an end to the Duchess’ already waning patience. Thetonwas racked with sudden excitement. The Duchess of Buckingham had announced a house party complete with a lavish ball, to be held at Atherton Park in mid-June. To be holding such a huge event so late in the season could only mean one thing.
“Is it true the Duke is going to propose? Or already has?” an eager young lady asked Maggie as she stood watching the dancers at a ball that night. The Duchess had insisted that they continue to be seen at social occasions.
“He has not yet proposed to anyone that I am aware of,” Maggie said, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Then he must be going to do it when they all arrive, and the big ball will be an engagement ball to round off the season. How exciting!” Without even waiting for a confirmation or denial from Maggie, the girl took off for her mama on the other side of the room, to whisper in her ear.
Late the next morning the Duchess stood, annoyed, by the front door. Finally, she called for a footman. “Where is His Grace? We are late for the Galpins’ picnic.”
The footman appeared mildly surprised. “He is gone, Your Grace.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Back to Atherton Park, Your Grace. He left this note for you.”
“Thank you, Bartholomew, you may go.”
Maggie watched as the Duchess tried to keep her expression calm as she read the note. “Edward has returned to Atherton Park with Joseph. He does not intend to return to London before the end of the season.”
Maggie stared at her. For once, even the Duchess did not seem to know how to proceed. “Will we follow him?”
“We have no choice but to do so.” Her jaw tightened. “Ring the bell for Webb and Mrs Green. We leave within the week. But no one must suspect anything is wrong.”
Meanwhile the word swept round thetonthat the Atherton house party and ball was the only place to be seen this summer.It would round off the season with a triumphant success for the Duchess, and for one gloriously elevated young debutante, who would oust all the other contenders to become a duchess. The only question remaining was who. Who was the winner of the season? Thetoncounted and counted again. Some debutantes had already secured engagements, so it could not be them. Others were unlikely. It was agreed it must be someone of high rank; the Duchess would not stoop so low as to favour a girl from an untitled family; the family were not, after all, in need of wealth. So only a titled woman would do. Thetonnarrowed it down to the three most likely women: Lady Honora Fortescue, Miss Elizabeth Belmont, Lady Anna Huntington. The Duchess would say nothing when these names were mentioned, but all three of their families had been invited to the event, so the curiosity intensified even more. Maggie heard the odd comment by young rakes which made her think they were going so far as to place bets on the outcome. Ungentlemanly though it might be, they were only carrying out in coinage what the rest of thetonwas doing with tongue-wagging. The three families with daughters in the race preened and hinted in public. In private, they summoned modistes and dancing-masters, sacked and hired ladies’ maids, grilled and drilled their daughters on how to behave themselves and generally panicked that their greatest opportunity was about to be lost if they failed in what was turning out to be the final and most important event of the season. A dukedom was at stake for the first time in years and they were damned if they were not going to try for it. Even the fathers, usually outwardly scornful of the mothers’ machinations, showed an interest. They went out of their way to bump into Edward at Parliament, had their stewards send them reports of Atherton Park and his other estates so that they could talk knowledgeably of whatever issues Edward might be interested in. When word got about that he had expressedsome interest in a botanical print the drawing masters were summoned to ensure each of the girls could reliably sketch flowers.
Those young ladies who had not yet secured a husband were determined to still be in the running. They cajoled every contact they had to put them in front of the Duchess one more time, to see if an invitation to the great event would be forthcoming. Two young women received proposals but asked their ardent suitors to wait until the summer, in the hopes that they might still be considered, should one of the chosen three prove to be lacking in some important criteria. The suitors, knowing full well why they were being asked to wait, were by turns insistent and sulky, rightly feeling that they had been demoted to second choice. But even they, with hurt feelings, had to acknowledge that a young woman would be foolish indeed if she did not at least hold out until all hope was lost to become a duchess.
Celine was dispatched to the modiste with two already beautiful gowns in their possession but as yet unworn, one in a rich purple for the duchess, one in delicate pink for Maggie, with instructions to make them even more elegant, to be worn at the house party’s ball. Maggie only shook her head when asked if she wanted to specify the alterations to be made. She had no interest. The exquisite clothes that had once seemed so delightful had lost their charms with Edward gone.
Maggie spent as much time as she could keeping to her own rooms when in the house, until she was summoned to the drawing room by the Duchess the day before their departure.
“Lord Frampton is in the library.”
“Lord Frampton?”
“He knows we are leaving town. He says he wishes to speak with you.”
“With me?”
“In private.”
“Why?”
The Duchess stared at her; jaw clenched. “A gentleman only asks to speak to a lady in private for one reason.”
Confused, Maggie stood waiting for a further explanation. What she was hearing could not be right.
