Page 14 of The Duke's Impetuous Darling
Then, like so much in the past six months that had dawned on him in a rush, a flash of light, a punch to his ribs that took his breath, he sank like a rock to the chair. "Dear God."
"Yes. You see?"
Alastair examined his friend and gulped loudly. "And because my brother William is gone."
Griff clasped his hands together. "Precisely."
"I am the Duke of Kingston."
Chapter 3
December 21, 1815
Marsden Hall
Brighton, England
With one glance in the cheval mirror, Bee approved of her new gown of silver lama trimmed in blonde lace. Though she'd never have occasion to wear it again, she'd take this with her when she left Marsden Hall to remember how grand her life once was.
"I've never seen such a sight." Mary straightened Bee's train to flow behind her. "You're grand, Miss Belinda."
"With your help." Bee tugged high her white kid gloves.
When Bee accepted a position in service in someone else's home, she'd lose Mary's help and her friendship. But governesses did not have maids so she couldn't take her along. "I hope all of you in the servants hall have some free time to enjoy Christmas."
"Mr. Simms ‘as promised it," her maid said as she fixed the pouf in Bee's red waistband bow. "He says we're due after the guests have their fill of champagne and the wine with supper. He says they'll go to bed early."
"Like beached whales after one soup, three dishes of fish, two of chicken, a loin of veal with truffles and two pots of something I can't recall." Bee fanned herself at the thought of eating all that.
Mary laughed. "Cook says to save room for her great meringue and profiteroles with pistachios."
Bee put a hand to her brow. "I'll waddle until the New Year."
With that, Bee spun for the door and made her way along the gallery to the main stairs. The house, first erected during Charles the First's reign, had grown and sprawled over the decades into a complicated pattern. Due to intrigues of the civil war, the house sported secret stairs, false floors and tiny rooms and little nooks where, it was said, many lovers had met in rendezvous. She and Alastair had hidden there as children to jump out and surprise the adults.
Much of the house had changed when the second earl of Marsden had hired a student of Robert Adam. The two men had spread the building into a winged Georgian expanse. The elaborately carved black walnut stairway she descended stood in the original part of the house, tucked away from the eyes of those who entered the golden and white marbled foyer. At the foot of the stairs, Bee could peek around the wall toward the grand hall to see Aunt Gertrude's guests for the next seven days. All had arrived this afternoon and Simms, punctual man, had promptly ordered one footman to each to show them their rooms. One maid Simms assigned to each to sort their traveling cases.
Refreshed and dressed for supper, they milled about and greeted each other. Simms—sharp-eyed, sharp-nosed, sharp-dressed man that he was—stood guard like a dark Cerberus at the doors to the Red Salon. In minutes, Aunt Gertrude would receive them with an official welcome and a healthy pour of an aperitif.
Bee pushed open the door to the salon and stood, gasping at the beauty of the room aglow with dozens of candles, the walls hung with endless boughs of evergreens and holly, mistletoe too.If Alastair could only see this. He loved Christmas.
"There you are, my Belinda." Aunt Gertrude sailed forth in acloud of smoky satin, a tiny tiara of diamonds plus a necklace to match. Her modiste had done her justice. So had her lady's maid. Alight as she always was for any gathering, the lady seemed a decade younger.
"Come stand here, beside me," her aunt instructed, fidgeting, bursting with glee. "There. Marjorie next, then Delphine."
Her sisters had arrived downstairs before her.
Marjorie arched two brows at Bee. "I love your gown."
"Thank you." Despite the fact that Marjorie had honey blonde hair and Bee's was nearly black, they could wear many of the same colors. Because their height and figures were also the same, Marjorie would look wonderful in Bee's gown. "You may borrow it, if you like. But I do like you in the salmon."
"Thank you. We can exchange."
Del seemed to float in her gown of ivory tulle and ice blue satin. "I think tonight will be a marvelous success, don't you? I cannot thank you enough, Aunt, for all your kindnesses."
Gertrude pursed her lips and examined her with more skepticism than Bee usually noted in her aunt’s demeanor. "Set your sights on any one young buck yet, my chick?"
"Soon, Aunt. To read their titles is one thing, to value them, another. And you, Bee? Will you set yourself to a happy evening?"
