Page 11 of The Trouble With Her Duke
“It would be proper for you to begin, Sophy,” Rosalind prompted.
“Why don’t we have some tea first?” suggested the dowager, pouring the tea and passing everyone a cup. “Dora, we have the lemon biscuits. And Bianca, the apple tarts you prefer are on the bottom tier. Rosalind, I didn’t forget you. The crème puffs are there as well.”
“Oh, these look positively delectable,” gushed Bianca, taking two of the tarts.
“Ahem.” Dora cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Bianca’s two tarts.
Bianca narrowed her eyes for a moment until she finally smiled. “Thank you, Dora, for reminding me.” Turning to the others, she explained. “I am doing my best to fit into that red satin confection that I wore to Lady Turner’s ball last year. Since I do not wish to be bound up so tightly that I cannot breathe, I have been refraining from over-indulging.” She picked up a tart, and after heaving a deep sigh, placed it back on the tower.
Lydia bit back a smile. These four women had been friends for so long that they spatted like sisters. Despite that, they were extremely loyal and caring toward one another.
“My dear Lydia,” the dowager said. “Years ago, as young women, the four of us made a promise—if we all outlived our husbands, we would take up residence together for companionship and mutual support in our golden years.”
Lydia looked around the room. Dora, Bianca, and Rosalind were sipping tea. So much for positive thinking.
“Now then, we have some good news and some better news,” Sophy declared. “A perfect opportunity for you! One that will offer you far more excitement and enticement than can be had in this mausoleum. And best of all, we will still see each other as often as we do now . . . all of us.”
“She will?” Rosalind said, licking pastry cream from her finger.
The other three glared at her.
“Oh, yes, dear. You will,” Rosalind gave a wobbly smile. “Are we past the not-so-good news?” she whispered to Bianca.
“Rosalind,” Dora growled under her breath.
“As I said,” Sophy continued. “Rosalind has been widowed for a year now. Dora and Bianca have been living together for several years. And my dear husband passed away two years ago. So, we have made plans to live out the rest of our lives together under one roof. Therefore, I will no longer need your services as a companion. However . . .”
“That’s the bad news and the good news all rolled up!” Rosalind interrupted. “And since Sophy has already found you a wonderful new situation—and we are already great friends—I expect we will take the waters together regularly,” oozed Rosalind.
Sophy threw an impatient look at her friend. “Rosalind, why don’t you explain this wonderful opportunity? Your nephew? The position?”
“Er, yes, I have indeed already arranged an interview for you,” Rosalind said with an apologetic smile. “Sometimes I get swept along with excitement and I forget what I was going to say.” She chuckled and gave a little shrug.
“For God’s sake, woman. Tell the girl about the position!” Dora said. Lydia was trying to process everything—the tea, the dowagers’ pact, the termination, the new position—it was all happening so quickly. She wanted to say something, but her tongue felt as dry as dust. What position?
“I realize this has been a bit of a turnabout, my dear,” Sophy said. “But I am certain it will be a tremendous opportunity that will offer you so much more than I ever could.”
“Your parlor is always so comfortable. I’ve always enjoyed our teas here,” Rosalind said, caressing the white velvet drapes.
Dora shook her head, appearing frustrated with her friend.
“Could you elaborate on this opportunity?” Lydia asked.
“Rosalind, darling, it’s time for those details,” Bianca said, patting her friend on the hand.
“Oh, yes!” Rosalind beamed. “My nephew-in-law, Damon Devereaux, the Duke of Danforth, needs a governess for my grandniece and grandnephew. Fortunately, the stars came into alignment this week when their current governess left.”
“Lydia, I think you would be perfect for this position,” Sophy said. “We all do.”
All four women nodded in unison.
Unease crept up Lydia’s spine. The Duke of Danforth? Good Lord! Lydia felt lightheaded at this collision of destinies. She discretely pinched her leg through the fabric of her dress to counter the feeling. She was certain this pinch drew blood!
“May I ask why she left her position as governess?” she asked, hearing the squeak in her voice.
“Something about frogs in her shoe, I heard,” Bianca said with a dismissive wave. “But I hear the children are quite entertaining—when they don’t misbehave, that is.”
Sophy gave her friend a dark look. “Bianca, are you selling this opportunity, or am I?”
