Page 15 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“I do believe you are evading my question,” the Duchess replied firmly but Leonard only cast her a smile. “Will Miss Priscilla be attending?”
The query filled Leonard with an unanticipated dread and the beam fell from his lips at once. He had not thought to ask but the answer appeared quite obvious. If there was a social event of any magnitude, Priscilla was bound to be in attendance.
“I imagine she will be,” Catherine replied in on his behalf. “Birds of a vapid feather.”
“I do wish you would be kinder to your sister-in-law,” Mary snapped. “This surly speaking will not stand when she marries your brother, you must know that!”
“She is not my sister-in-law,” Catherine reminded her mother. “Not yet and if there is a God in Heaven, she will be fall from a bridge—”
“Catherine!” both Leonard and Mary cried in unison.
“You cannot tell me you have not envisioned it, Leo,” Catherine purred wickedly. Leonard forced his lips not to twitch although he had shared similar thoughts.
Not that Miss Priscilla would meet an untimely demise necessarily but that perhaps she was kidnapped by gypsies or committed to Bedlam.
Of course, he did not offer his approval of his sister’s dark thoughts. Priscilla was still to be his wife, regardless of how insipid she might be.
“She is my betrothed and you will show her the respect she deserves,” he insisted but as always, there was little conviction in his words.
“There is Herbert,” Catherine announced suddenly and Leonard shifted his eyes toward where his sister nodded. Indeed, the barrister stood in his usual spot on the fringes of society. He was quite content watching the world flitter by as he sipped a glass of port but there was an unmistakable happiness on his typically stoic face.
“I will say hello,” Leonard decided, claiming the opportunity to escape his sister’s cutting commentary. He adored Catherine but her negativity oft upset him.
She is much too young to be so skeptical,he thought ruefully.Father’s passing affected her a great deal more than she admits.
Leonard hoped that Catherine would show more leniency toward Priscilla in the future but his faith was doubtful. Catherine did despise the busybodies and gossips in town. Priscilla embodied all the qualities she abhorred.
Leonard approached the barrister, noting as usual that Herbert appeared quite content watching the world flitter by whilst sipping on a glass of port. Yet there was an unmistakable happiness on his typically stoic face.
“Your Grace!” Herbert gasped in surprise when Leonard approached. “I did not expect to see you here!”
“I had a change of heart on the matter, Herbert. I daresay there are many more in attendance than I expected. Would you like to wager that half these nobles could not identify Baron Fife if we pointed them in the proper direction?”
Herbert snorted and quickly put the glass to his lips, apparently taken aback by his own expression of amusement.
“Some will go great distances for a party,” Herbert agreed, smiling. His shoulders sagged slightly, perhaps because he was in familiar company. It occurred to Leonard that he might be the barrister’s only true friend.
“When did you arrive?” Leonard asked but as he spoke, he noticed Herbert’s eyes stealing over his shoulder. It was very distracting and Leonard turned to look.
“I arrived last evening quite late, Your Grace.”
“You certainly were eager to attend,” Leonard teased. “What in God’s name has your attention?”
Herbert clamped his mouth shut but his eyes darted back to where they had been and again, Leonard turned to look. It was then that he saw her. She was a comely lady of perhaps five-and-twenty standing with a boy of no more than sixteen. Their costly clothes suggested good breeding yet Leonard could not place them despite the fact that the woman was vaguely familiar in an obtuse way.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Herbert muttered. “I look at nothing.”
“Do you know her?” Leonard asked, his voice laced in wonder. “She seems oddly familiar to me.”
“I, I made her acquaintance last evening,” Herbert blurted out. “Miss Frances Follett, eldest daughter to the Viscount of Gordon.”
Leonard paused, considering the distance to Gordon from Pembroke. His sense of geography told him that it was not very close to his home.
“She is a fine article,” Leonard commented, his eyes on her face.
Where have I seen her? I have not been to Gordon in quite some time. Could I have met her before?
“She is an angel,” Herbert muttered and Leonard thought he had misheard.
