Page 3 of Lady, Behave
“Thank you, my dear.” She inched near Heath as her maid pushed into the shop and all six of them now stood indiscreetly nearly nose-to-nose. “Is this the man who sold you that syrup for our headaches?”
Addy hid her surprise. Not only was this dashing gentleman afflicted with terrible headaches as well as his mother, but the lady had admitted it aloud. Few ever wished the world to know of their maladies, especially those so high in the instep.
“Indeed, Mama.”
“Good. Well!” she said with indignant authority and pushed her way past Addy to look down her nose at Mister Alworth. “I tell you, sir, your syrup does not work. It needs a stronger element. Stronger, I say!”
“Well, Your Grace, I think I have just the thing for you.” He sent a thankful smile toward Addy. “If you will allow me to serve this young lady who was here before you and your son, I’ll—”
“Sir!” She frowned at him and, in so doing, narrowed her long elegant nose, so similar to that of her handsome son’s. “I am not accustomed to taking second place.”
“No, ma’am. I understand, but—”
“I insist on good service, sir.”
“And you shall have it, ma’am. But you must first understand that the excellent remedy I will give you will be superb because this young woman has improved my usual fine mixture.”
“Oh?” The duchess directed her attention toward a smiling Addy. The woman’s incredulous gaze spoke of a tinge of respect, just in case, Addy concluded, the lady had to praise her. “How is that possible that you should know such things?”
Addy curtsied. “My grandfather suffered such megrims, Your Grace. I was responsible for his care, and I learned the best way to treat lightning headaches by trial and error.”
“Humf. And why are you here then if you know such things?” She waved a careless hand in the air denoting the shop.
“My cousin, Lady William Downs, has need of similar medication, and although I know what to put in such a potion, I am no chemist to mix it. Suffice it to say that I hope you will be discreet,” Addy said with the most gratifying of dispositions cloaking the most severe warning, “and not to say that I have been so bold as to reveal her need for such to you.”
“No, no. Of course not. I know of the lady, I do.” The duchess pulled her pelisse closer about her chest, emphasizing that such revelation would be beneath her dignity. “Well, I should like some of your formula. I am quite ready to find relief.”
Addy leaned toward the kindly apothecary. “I can certainly wait, sir, while you fill Her Grace’s order.”
The little man checked the duchess’s growing smile and hurried away.
Fifi’s gray eyes met Addy’s in praise of her largesse to allow the duchess to get her syrup first.
So did the melting brown gaze of the Marquess of Heath.
“Kind of you, young lady,” announced the duchess. “Forgive me, but the shopkeeper should have introduced us.”
“Indeed,” said Heath. “Allow me, Mama.” He proceeded to do the formalities with all names and titles included, including that of his mother, the Duchess of Stonegage.
“Devereaux.” The duchess mulled over Addy’s family name. “The Barrys. Quite a large family.”
Addy said nothing. Well aware that a few of their distant relatives were confidants of Prince George, and scoundrels at that, she did not wish to focus on that branch of the tree. “We have many cousins in Ireland.”
“And you are the branch from Waterford?”
Addy hoped that was sufficient identification. “We are.”
“And your grandfather was the Earl of Barry?”
“He was.”
The duchess narrowed her gaze upon Addy in a most chilling manner. “He recently passed away.”
“He did. Fourteen months ago, it was.” She hoped that concluded the family examination. Her grandpapa had been a loving substitute parent to the triplets after their father and mother had passed way, but outside the family, he had a less sterling reputation.
The duchess glared at her, then expressed her dim view of Grandpapa when she was so unladylike as to snort. Loudly.
Addy lost her smile. Her hope for a pleasant ending died.
