Page 25 of A Perplexing Regency Romance (The League of Meddling Butlers #5)

Lucy was stomping round the room after having declared that the duke had ruined everything.

“I’m not sure there was anything to ruin,” Finella said.

“Nothing to ruin? I had it all planned out! You were to wed the duke and then very naturally you would need the services of a lady’s maid forevermore and here I am already doin’ the job.

I was to go swanning around as the lady’s maid to a duchess, lookin’ down on all the other lady’s maids.

I was gonna set myself apart from the housemaids, as I was above them.

I was gonna take on a refined air and only the butler and the housekeeper would command my notice.

I was gonna return home to collect my things and watch everybody marvel at my step up in life.

I was even gonna ask for an increase in wages, as you were a duchess. He’s ruined it all.”

Gracious, that was quite the plan. “Lucy, I am sorry you are to be disappointed, but I will wed somebody at some point. I’m fairly sure I will. If he is well off enough to support the wages of a proper lady’s maid, rest assured the position is yours.”

“If he is well off enough to afford it?” Lucy asked sounding very incredulous over the idea. “How low were you planning to look?”

“Lucy, there are many fine gentlemen who find themselves in straits for one reason or another. It has nothing to do with low.”

“Oh aye. Let’s just stroll down the street and capture a local vicar, he’ll be in straits. Or how about an army man? He’ll be in straits and we’ll be dragged from place to place. Or any younger son will probably do—he’ll be in straits and cursing his birth order for good measure.”

“My father already warned me off wedding a vicar and I do not know any gentlemen in the army.”

Lucy had shrugged. “That leaves the second son, then. Or even the third son, as long as we’re going low.

Just seems a shame to go from a duke down to a third son with no prospects whatsoever who will be faced with becoming a vicar or joining the army so you ended up with one of those fellows anyway. ”

Finella could not argue with that. However, it was the real world she lived in.

She was beginning to think that Lucy could be just as fanciful as she had been.

The two of them together had gone along with their heads in the clouds.

They had been two na?ve young ladies who were becoming acquainted with the realities of life very fast.

Hours later, after many complaints and dire warnings about third sons, Lucy helped her into her dress for the party at Carlton House.

She had originally thought she would wear a soft yellow satin with a netting overlay in the same shade.

It was one of the dresses Madame Beaumont had composed for her and it fit to perfection.

She had at first wondered about the color, as her dressmaker at home had advised darker colors for her silhouette, but the duchess said the yellow announced confidence.

Finella decided yellow was firmly out for now.

There was no reason to remind herself of her foolishness over wishing to see a yellow shawl on the duke’s boat.

Instead, she chose a dress that better suited her mood, it was a lightweight velvet in a soft grey.

It had once been highly decorated with blue paste jewels around the neckline, but Madame Beaumont had ensured that it had all been removed and replaced with a subtle braided edging.

Finella missed the sparkle, as it really had been pretty, but she had begun to appreciate elegant simplicity more than she had done.

In any case, this subdued iteration suited her mood.

All the while that Lucy composed her hair and helped her into her dress, her maid complained about the low gentleman with no money because he was in straits they were going to be forced to put up with.

Before she’d gone downstairs, the duchess had knocked on her door and come in. “Ah, that is just the dress that will match with this little bauble.” The duchess handed her a white velvet box.

Finella opened it. It was a divine very delicate platinum necklace with a large topaz surrounded by chip diamonds. “Your Grace?”

“I never wear it and I’ve noticed that all you seem to have with you is that gold cross. A cross is all well and good, but a lady does require some stones of her own.”

“But it is too expensive. I’m not sure my father—”

“Your father is a very agreeable gentleman, in my experience,” the duchess said. “Now really, put it on and say no more about it. It suits your coloring, and in any case, I have boxes and boxes of jewelry and not enough years left to wear it all.”

Lucy had put it round Finella’s neck and did the clasp.

She examined it in the looking glass, its pale blue almost translucent and sparkling in the candlelight.

It was glorious. She’d never owned a real piece of jewelry of such quality.

It had the effect of making her feel very grown.

The duchess really was exceedingly kind.

The lady clearly made an attempt to cheer her up after what they had viewed, or had not viewed as it was, at the regatta.

She was determined to repay the lady by keeping her head high and a smile on her face.

As Finella and the duchess entered Carlton House, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

No more fantasies or imaginings. She would not do anything like it again no matter how polite the duke was.

For that was really it, was it not? He was nice to her, as she was sure he was nice to everyone, and she’d lost her wits over it.

She was a grown lady with middling looks who wore a subdued grey velvet dress and a spectacular topaz necklace. Those were the facts, and facts were to be her constant companion from now on.

Finella had known what she was when she’d come to Town and it was high time she remembered it. She was just Finella Fernsby and she would not be walking into Carlton House were it not for a kind neighbor who happened to be a duchess.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hugh stared at the wheeled chair. It was preposterous.

He’d been carried down the stairs and now he waited for Seddie to pull up with his carriage. He was to be carried to the carriage and this monstrosity was to be tied to the back of it.

That afternoon, Sir Henry had been to the house and had thoroughly examined his ankle. It was his opinion that there were no broken bones. Yet. There was a severe sprain and the physician was afraid there had been a small fracture. If Hugh were to put weight on it, that fracture might worsen.

Sir Henry was stern in his directions and told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to put any weight on it for at least a month. Then he’d wrapped it securely and ordered more pillows to raise it.

That was when Hugh had broken the bad news about being commanded to Carlton House that evening. Sir Henry had waved it off. He was certain the matter could not be pressed if the prince was informed of the duke’s condition.

Hugh knew otherwise, though. The prince planned some jest or entertainment at his expense and would be livid if he did not turn up.

Knowing the prince’s temperament, and some of the friends he currently surrounded himself with, if Hugh were dead and buried it would not be considered a good enough excuse.

One way or another, he had to appear. The prince must have his amusements.

Once Sir Henry was convinced of it, he said the only way Hugh could attend was in a wheeled chair. Attempting to put weight on his ankle could lead to far bigger and possibly permanent problems.

Hugh had argued for a cane.

Sir Henry shook his head dolefully.

Then he’d argued for crutches.

Sir Henry was adamant that neither would do. There was too much risk of accidentally putting weight on that foot, especially in the early days before the bone even had a chance to knit. It must be a wheeled chair. He then assured Hugh that he would arrange it, which he had.

Unfortunately, what the physician had sent to the house was the only wheeled chair he had on hand. The note said it had been donated by the family of an old dowager. It might appear a bit on the feminine side, Sir Henry wrote, but it would hold his weight just fine.

A bit on the feminine side? The back was carved into flowers and vines and painted pink and green. The seat was covered in tufted pink satin cushioning.

“It is not so bad, Your Grace,” Browning said.

Hugh stared at him.

“All right it is so bad but just think of the alternative. Sir Henry was very clear about the danger. Your mother, the dear departed duchess, could not bear to see you with a permanent limp.”

Hugh was not sure that souls that had passed to the great beyond concerned themselves with who was limping around on earth.

“In any case,” Browning said, “when you sit on it, most of the pink satin will be covered.”

Hugh nodded, resigned to looking ridiculous.

“By the by, Browning, while I think of it, I want you to write a letter of stern complaint to the proprietor of Handel’s on Oxford Street.

The fellow they employ there sold me a green shawl while claiming it was a yellow shawl.

It seems as soon as the fellow realized I could not tell the difference, he felt free to do it. ”

Browning staggered back, stumbled, and fell over a bench.

Hugh stared down at his sprawled butler. “It’s not that shocking, Browning. It would not be the first time a tradesman attempted to get over on a person. They have no compunction over lying when it comes to selling their wares.”

There was a sharp rap on the door, and the footman opened it to Seddie. His friend looked around. “Browning, what do you do on the floor?”

Mr. Browning got up and dusted himself off, apparently not deigning to be interrogated by Seddie.

“Jimmy,” Browning said, “help Sir Edward carry the duke to the carriage. I will supervise the grooms in attaching the chair to the back.”