Page 5 of Fit for a Duke
‘How very ill-mannered,’ Clio remarked. ‘I wonder why the dowager doesn’t put a stop to it.’
Pearson was an excellent butler and did not require to be lectured on his duties, certainly not by a dependent relative. Clio knew he would take offence but would not permit his displeasure to show—at least not publicly. She smiled, thinking that Mr Conway might well have to wait a considerable time for his bell to be answered, and wondered why those with the least authority were almost always the ones most inclined to throw their weight about. An innate feeling of inferiority, no doubt, at least insofar as Mr Conway was concerned and she knew that she would not like the man.
‘I imagine he has no money of his own and is dependent upon the current duke’s largesse,’ Clio said. ‘But still, if he entertains the dowager and keeps her amused, I don’t suppose the duke will mind too much. I suspect that the lady is anxious to see her only remaining son married and that naturally the duke resents the pressure, so a dependent male cousin who is willing to flatter his mother is probably just the distraction he requires. I wonder where he is—the duke that is—and why he was not here to escort his mama.’
‘He is a very close friend of the Viscount Fryer. I hear they are inseparable, or at least they were before the duke’s status changed. Henry Fryer has accepted his own invitation to this party and his mother arrived just before the duchess, so I expect Lord Fryer and the duke will be arriving together.’
‘Well, if they don’t get here soon they will miss both dinner and Beth’s grand entrance.’
‘Oh dear.’ Adele grinned. ‘That will never do. Speaking of which, we had best think about dressing ourselves, otherwise we will be the ones arriving late and making an entrance. Don’t forget that we promised not to put ourselves forward so that Beth would have the chance to shine.’
‘As if we could steal the limelight from her! Well, you could, in fairness, since you are equally pretty, but there is nothing memorable about me.’
‘Fishing for compliments, dearest?’
‘Just being pragmatic, my love,’ Clio replied. ‘Nothing other than my wealth is likely to appeal to the gentlemen here today, but since I am neither officially out nor on the prowl for a husband, I shall not let that trivial detail concern me. Instead I shall enjoy observing the jockeying for position and favour once the duke arrives.’
‘One does not have to be out to join in the festivities at a house party. That is rather the point of them. They offer a useful means for those without sufficient funds to give a daughter a season an opportunity to expediently marry her off.’
‘Now who’s being pragmatic?’
Adele grinned. ‘Practical, more like.’
The girls hugged and went to their separate rooms, where maids awaited them with hot water and gowns prepared for the big night.
‘What a hubbub below stairs, miss,’ Daisy, Clio’s maid, said, looking agitated. ‘I ain’t never seen so many grand servants, nor so much activity neither. Everyone making demands and pulling rank and Mr Pearson keeping order as smoothly as the workings of a well-oiled clock and never looking flustered. I don’t know how he does it, indeed I don’t. Those retainers of the duke’s terrify me.’
‘Do they put on airs and throw their weight around?’
‘Actually no but…well, I find them daunting.’
Clio nodded, aware that status was every bit as important below stairs as it would be later in her aunt’s drawing room. ‘Do not allow them to intimidate you, Daisy,’ she said.
‘Oh, I don’t feel intimidated. Well,’ she added, looking vague, ‘I don’t think I do, but that Mr Godfrey, the duke’s valet, he’s a right charmer.’ Daisy’s cheeks turned bright pink.
‘I see,’ Clio said, smiling.
Daisy poured water into the ewer and helped Clio out of her gown. ‘You will have to get a move on, miss. You’ve left it late. The duke ain’t arrived yet but Mr Godfrey says he’ll be here directly. He’s riding down with his friend, Lord Fryer. Lady Fletcher is worried that they won’t get here in time for dinner so she’s held it back for an hour. Even so, you will be expected downstairs at the usual time.’
‘Then I had best be there.’ Not that anyone other than Adele and her aunt would notice if she was not, but even so, her aunt had taken her in and been kind to her. It was a great relief to be settled, no longer passed around between relatives like an inconvenient parcel. This party was hugely important to Lady Fletcher and Clio would play her small supporting role in proceedings dutifully. ‘You know it doesn’t take me long to get ready.’
‘It will tonight. I intend to dress your hair properly.’
‘Oh lud, I thought you had abandoned that idea. My hair will always do precisely as it pleases no matter what you attempt, and well you know it. Besides, it is not as if I am trying to impress anyone.’
Daisy ignored Clio’s complaints, just as she always did when Clio said something she didn’t want to hear. Sometimes Clio wondered who was in charge of whom, but Daisy was so dear to her that she would never dispense with her services. Young yet fiercely loyal, Daisy and Clio had been together through the worst of times. She was an excellent lady’s maid and completely dependable.
Less than an hour later, turned out in turquoise silk that complimented the colour of her strawberry blonde hair, Clio was ready with time to spare. Some guests were already in the drawing room and no doubt spilling out onto the terrace to enjoy the last of the day’s fine weather. Clio heard cultured voices coming from that direction but had no desire to join the fray just yet. Adele took longer than she did to get ready, so Clio wandered into the grounds, enjoying the mild breeze, taking care to avoid the places where she might be seen from the terrace and have her purpose questioned. Worse still, she might find that she had company foisted upon her before she was ready to accept it.
Feeling guilty for her taciturn disposition when she had so much to be grateful to Lady Fletcher for, Clio turned her face to the setting sun, determined to enjoy her moment of rebellion. Beth would be appalled to see her risking her complexion for no good reason, but since Clio already had a healthy dose of freckles decorating her nose that she didn’t attempt to conceal, she didn’t see much point in exercising caution.
‘What cannot be cured must be endured,’ she said aloud.
A commotion coming from the direction of the duck pond drew her attention. Curious as to its cause, she strolled in that direction and saw a large shaggy dog making clumsy attempts to capture a group of ducklings that had paddled to safety in their mother’s wake. In the centre of the pond, they circled in an untidy gaggle, taunting the poor dog.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, scratching the mutt’s ears and wondering what breed he was. Not one that she recognised. Confident that none of the elegant guests would possess such a scruffy animal, she wondered how he came to be in the grounds. It was quite a way to come from the village. Clio considered his lack of discernible breeding a point in his favour, but she knew that her view would be very much in the minority. ‘Where did you come from, boy? You look too well fed to be a stray.’
She stood back, aware of her fine clothing as the dog shook water from his coat, barked once and loped off with an ungainly stride in the direction of the stables. For want of something better to do—her only alternative was the drawing room which distinctly lacked appeal—Clio followed along at a leisurely pace. She stopped in her tracks when she heard low voices coming from the tack room. The voices were too cultured to belong to any of the grooms, all of whom were run off their feet caring for the guests’ horses, which had quadrupled the occupancy of the stalls.
