Page 44 of Miss Desirable
The cellar was stocked with many fine vintages collected on Papa’s travels. “Have you somebody in mind, Harry?”
“I thought perhaps I could drop around to Monsieur Fournier’s shop and ask for a few pointers. I know a claret from champagne, but there’s more to it than that. When to decant, what wine to serve with which dishes. Mrs. Trask and Cook were talking about it.”
Catherine’s first reaction was surprise. Harry was getting very much above himself, for all that he was right. Polite society would laugh Harry to scorn. But then… why not support a footman’s ambitions when he showed some initiative?
Why not?“I will have a word with Monsieur, and I’m sure he will be happy to assist. I will also have Cook review the menus with you so you can hear her suggestions regarding the wine pairings, but, Harry, you are not to lord it over the other staff. You are merely curious, and if you ask the occasional question when running an errand at the wineshop, that is nobody’s business but yours.”
Catherine did not add that she’d discussed wine selections with Mama by the hour and enjoyed Italian, Greek, and even American vintages undreamed of by most British butlers. She could share what she knew with Harry casually and see how he went on.
“Thank you, miss. Thank you. I’d best fetch her ladyship.”
He all but bolted from the room, the antithesis of Deems’s stuffy dignity—and what a pleasant change that was.
Lady Della numbered among those small people who exuded a large presence. How she did that, precisely, Catherine did not know. Her ladyship did not dress with an extravagance of ruffles and lace. She did not speak loudly or conduct herself with any flamboyant airs.
And yet, she was—to use Fournier’s word—formidable.
“Miss Fairchild, good day.”
They exchanged curtseys. “My lady, a pleasure. I’ve sent for the tray. Please do have a seat. Your husband warned me you might visit, though I wasn’t expecting you quite this soon.” Fortunately, Catherine was properly attired to receive a caller, in part thanks to Fournier’s scolding.
Lady Della smiled as she sank into Mama’s wing chair. “If you are up to an outing in the park with Xavier Fournier, then you can endure a visit from my humble self. Ash was off to Angelo’s salon this morning, or I would have dragooned him into escorting me. I gather a chance to spar with Monsieur Fournier is not to be missed.”
Lady Della’s manner was brisk and friendly. She wasn’t collecting gossip, but rather, inviting a confidence: Was Catherinesparringwith Monsieur?
“Monsieur is a charming escort. I cannot speak to his skill with a sword.”Yet.
“You will need several charming escorts. Ash is available for that purpose, and Valerian and Oak will be in Town shortly. Casriel has many demands upon his time, but I can call upon Nicholas if you’re casting about for gallants.”
“Nicholas?”
“My oldest legitimate brother. Lord Bellefonte. He’s actually very sweet, and Leah—Lady Bellefonte—isn’t as sociable as Nicholas. Nobody is as sociable as Nick. He’s the world’s largest butterfly. He’ll be calling you darling and dearest before he’s finished his first promenade with you, and then he’ll start bragging about his children.”
Lady Della appeared to chatter, but she was, in fact, opening negotiations. Catherine had served as her father’s amanuensis at enough diplomatic meetings to grasp what was afoot.
Her ladyship had been born a Haddonfield, the youngest child—to appearances—of the late Earl of Bellefonte. Her ramblings had already made the point that Nicholas, the present earl and Della’s oldestlegitimatebrother, had an older half-brother who wasnotlegitimate. The present earl also had a by-blow, if Mama’s intelligence was accurate, a young lady whom the earl and countess included in their household along with their growing brood.
All that, subtly conveyed before her ladyship had even taken off her gloves.
“I am not particularly sociable,” Catherine said. “Life attached to an embassy required that I learn how to comport myself, but to be honest, I prefer a quiet life.”
Harry brought the tray in and withdrew, though he paused with his hand on the door latch and sent Catherine a questioning look. She nodded, and he closed the door.
Good riddance, Deems.
“You must not let that old Miss Dubious business haunt you,” Lady Della said. “That was years ago, and the gossips aren’t calling you that now, I’ll wager.”
The nickname still had the power to wound. “How much would you wager?”
“My best bonnet. One lump and a dash of milk, please. The Dorning ladies are gathering at Richmond next Wednesday. Oak and Valerian will be in Town, though we will never get Hawthorne to leave his acres this time of year, and Daisy has positively taken over rural Hampshire. Kettering and Jacaranda are already on hand, Willow has agreed to bring Susannah to London next week, and Casriel ought to be here any day.”
“I will be mobbed if I join this gathering?”
“Of course, but in the nicest possible way.” Lady Della’s smile was commiserating. “The womenfolk are dedicated correspondents, the menfolk not as much. If we get together, then our fellows can also congregate without having to make a fuss about it. Sycamore enjoys making a fuss, though, and I suspect he bought the Richmond monstrosity in part so we’d have a family respite near Town.”
“Sycamore wants to grow ornamental ferns in addition to spices and vegetables,” Catherine said. “Ferns are apparently soon to be all the rage.”
Fournier had told her that. Something about Lady Della’s regard as she sipped her tea suggested she’d divined the source of Catherine’s knowledge.
