Page 12 of Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Duchess (Wallflower Season #3)
Chapter Seven
A t dinner that evening, Andrew dined with the Dowager Viscountess. Kate had excused herself, pleading a headache. Knowing that their encounter that afternoon had caused it, Andrew vowed to stay indifferent. Perhaps he should return to Devonport again.
“My granddaughter can be quite spirited,” the Dowager Viscountess said, watching him. “I am afraid I am to blame.”
“She does have a strong opinion,” Andrew said. He picked at his beef. Although it was an excellent plate before him, he found his appetite had vanished.
“When her parents died, it was my duty to raise Kate and her brother. A duty I was happy to undertake. Perhaps I was overindulgent allowing her to secret herself in the library until all hours of the night. Although she is quite the voracious reader, I fear it has made her ill at ease amongst society.” She took a sip of her wine, her eyes distant.
“I imagine she and the Viscount are quite close,” Andrew said.
“Indeed, they are. They are each other’s staunchest allies, which is why my granddaughter has been rather fierce with her anger at times. When Miss Roves broke off her engagement to my grandson, it broke Kate’s heart almost as much as it did my grandson’s.”
Andrew frowned. “My name has been bandied about by all members of society as the source of the rumors regarding the viscount. But I assure you that I had nothing to do with the scandal.” He laid his napkin on his plate and pushed it away. “I grow quite weary of defending my own honor.”
The Dowager Viscountess studied him, her brown eyes sharp. “I believe you are a man of honor, Your Grace. A pity that not everyone can see that.”
He sighed. “People see what they want. I cannot defend myself against the gossip mill. They are like vultures picking away until there is nothing left. I have resigned myself long ago to ignore it, knowing that with time, it shall fade away. It is unfortunate that I find myself thrown back into the fray.”
“I am sure that eventually, she will apologize for her misapprehension.”
Andrew pursed his lips and considered the Dowager Viscountess. He measured his words carefully. “I appreciate your kindness, but it doesn’t matter. I cannot worry about her or anyone else’s erroneous opinion. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He stood and bowed low to the dowager. “Have a good evening.”
The next morning, Kate discovered that the Duke of Devonport had departed once more and left word that he would return for the wedding.
The fault of his departure rested solely at her feet. Kate had pushed and pushed until he had finally decided that spending another moment in her presence was too disagreeable. Now that she understood how wrong she had been about him, Kate found it difficult to think of anything else.
“Granddaughter, are you done poking a hole in that cushion?”
Kate looked down at the needlework and realized that she had been so lost in thought that she had stitched her linen to her cushion.
She sighed and began to pick out the tiny stitches.
“How could I have been so mistaken about the Duke’s role in Nicholas’s scandal?
” She looked up from her task. “Am I such a dog in the manger that I couldn’t see the truth? ”
Her grandmother looked up from her own needlework and sighed. “You are stubborn like your father. It’s a trait we Averys carry. It can be both a blessing and a curse.”
“I fear I have made an enemy of the Duke of Devonport.” Kate looked at the fire, hoping the flames would warm the cold knot of unhappiness that had formed in her stomach.
“I laid the fault of Julia and Nicholas’s broken engagement at his feet.
Grandmama, I’ve been mistaken. The duke claims he had nothing to do with the gossip about Nicholas, and I believe him. ”
“I am sure, given time, that he will forgive you. Now, the Viscountess of Uxbridge and her daughter are due to arrive for a tea this afternoon, so please do your best to present a more pleasant countenance,” the Dowager Viscountess admonished.
Kate inwardly sighed. She did not dislike the Viscountess of Uxbridge and her daughter, Constance.
She simply found their conversations tedious and meandering.
Constance had little interest beyond fashion and eligible gentlemen.
In fact, Kate would have been surprised if she’d read a novel since she was a girl in pigtails.
No matter. Perhaps Constance and her mother’s chatter would distract her from her own thoughts.
She spent the remainder of the morning stitching a cushion with the colors of the wedding flowers.
It would be a small token she would present to Julia.
Kate was still in the drawing room finishing her needlework when Mr. Scoville announced the arrival of the Viscountess and her daughter.
At a stern look for her grandmother, she passed on a welcoming smile.
“Good afternoon, Lady Uxbridge. I am so pleased you and Miss Collins are able to visit,” the Dowager Viscountess said.
Lady Melanie Collins, Viscountess of Uxbridge, was tall and broad.
She made quite an opposing figure whenever she entered the room.
She had keen eyes that took in every detail and Kate knew she cataloged every tidbit to regale her friends with the latest gossip as she made her rounds.
In contrast, Constance was short and slim like her father with winsome blue eyes and hair as black as the midnight sky.
“I’ve asked the servants to prepare the tea in the garden since it is such a pleasant day,” Kate said.
Constance looked at her mother and Lady Uxbridge gave Kate a toothsome smile that did not reach her eyes. “I hate to be a bother, but I fear the sun is too strong for Constance. It would never do for her porcelain complexion to darken.”
Kate schooled her expression and nodded. “Of course. I shall have it set up in the sitting room.” She turned to Mr. Scoville who nodded and quietly departed.
Constance leaned forward. “I have the most delicious news to impart.”
Kate widened her eyes, feigning interest. “Pray tell me.”
“The Earl of Manchester was spotted calling upon Lady Ellington. As you know, it has not been quite four months since her husband passed. She has forsaken her mourning period,” Constance sat back, triumphant.
“Perhaps he was paying his respects,” Kate said.
“Four months late? I think not. To be fair, Lord Ellington was reputed to be ill for some time before his passing, so perhaps she mourned him before he had even left this world.” Constance’s smile was sly but held no true malice. Like her mother, she enjoyed sharing tales from London society.
A discreet cough from Mr. Scoville saved Kate from acknowledging the gossip. “Shall we retire to the sitting room?”
As they strolled to the ladies’ sitting room, Kate watched Lady Uxbridge scan the hallway where servants had been working diligently the past two days to decorate with garlands of ivy intertwined with ribbons of scarlet and gold.
“I had heard that Miss Roves was to marry the Earl of Winfield here at Renwood Castle. I must say it surprised me after the young lady and your grandson broke off their engagement. I deemed it quite inappropriate,” Lady Uxbridge said as she took a seat at the small table.
Kate’s servants had quickly laid out plates of seedcakes and fairly cakes. Kate noted with satisfaction that the cook had included a plate of finger sandwiches with some of her favorites.
“As you know, Kate and Miss Roves are quite close, but if my grandson had not given his blessing then the event would not take place here at Renwood,” the Dowager Viscountess said.
Lady Uxbridge pursed her lips into a moue at the Dowager Viscountess. “I do hope that the Viscount learned his lesson. Once one is affianced, one expects more circumspection.”
Kate’s temper blazed and she opened her mouth to protest, but her grandmother discreetly laid a restraining hand on her knee. She stifled the bile that rose in her throat at the cruel mistreatment of her brother’s honor.
“My grandson had no lesson to learn as the scurrilous lies had no foundation in the truth. You are well-acquainted with how vicious the gossip columns are when they are in want of news.” The Dowager Viscountess picked up her tea and took a dainty sip. She looked quite pleased.
Lady Uxbridge looked discomfited at the small well-placed barb. Her own son had been the subject of gossip two years ago regarding his luck at the tables and had almost lost his membership at the club. She cleared her throat. “We hope to have a wedding ourselves in the coming year.”
Constance blushed which made quite a pretty picture. “Lord Darlington has come calling. He has asked me to save a dance for him at the wedding ball.”
Kate clapped her hands. “This is wonderful news for you! I am so happy. You and Lord Darlington will make a handsome couple.”
Kate was happy for Constance. Lord Darlington was a pleasant enough fellow with a large country estate. He did have an unfortunately disagreeable laugh that brought the image of a braying donkey to mind.
They spent the rest of their visit discussing games planned for the wedding and the guests who were scheduled to attend.
As their visit wound to an end, it struck Kate that she had less than ten days until the wedding and after Andrew’s second abrupt departure, the planning fell to her. She should feel pleased but did not.
At Devonport, Andrew prowled around the sitting room like a wild cat searching for prey. Finally, his grandmother rapped her cane on the floor.
“Will you please have a seat? You are making me ill-tempered.” She pointed to the seat next to her by the fireplace. “You did not want to help plan the wedding and have now excused yourself. Again. You should be happy.”
Andrew flung himself into the leather chair and stared into the fire.
He couldn’t tell his grandmother how much Kate needled him.
The last time he had complained about her, his grandmother claimed that he liked her which was complete and utter balderdash.
She was a sharp-tongued wasp and as obstinate as a cat refusing a bath.
He couldn’t find himself attracted to a woman like that, could he?
“Do stop sulking.” The Dowager Duchess’s voice was stern. She rapped her cane on the oak floors again causing the cat to jump up and dart out of the room.
“I am not sulking. Sulking is what children do, Grandmother, and I am certainly not that.” Andrew shifted in his seat.
He should visit his mistress. Perhaps spending the night with a woman as beautiful as Baroness Rathcliff would quench his need.
He leaped to his feet. “Grandmother, I am out for the evening. I shall return in time to breakfast with you in the morning.”
“Wh-what?” His grandmother sputtered, but he was already stalking out of the room.
Later in his curricle, he smiled in satisfaction.
Yes, a night with the baroness would be pleasurable and help him forget the displeasure of being cast as a villain in Miss Avery’s mind.
When the horse slowed to a halt in front of the Baroness’s townhome, he was surprised to find it dark.
He alighted from his seat and strode to the door.
He knocked and waited for an answer, but after five minutes of standing on the steps, Andrew grew embarrassed.
She was clearly not home, and it was presumptuous of him to assume the baroness wiled away her hours awaiting his arrival.
Back in his curricle, Andrew found himself wondering what Miss Avery was doing at this hour. Frustrated with the direction of his thoughts, he headed for home. Alone.