Page 38 of The Lady Who Said No to the Duke

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Thea, who had thought herself the possessor of a very adequate—and fashionable—wardrobe, was bemused by the amount of shopping Mama thought necessary for her trousseau.

And she was marrying a duke, for goodness sake, a man who was possessed of a number of fine, fully furnished dwellings, so why was it necessary for her and Mama to visit his town house and go through the rooms, Mama’s new temporary secretary at their heels with a notebook, to decide what she wanted changed?

She said as much, standing in the middle of a very elegant drawing room, Hal’s town butler, Mayhew, in attendance.

‘This is all perfect. And beautifully kept,’ she added with a smile for Mayhew, who looked deeply gratified. ‘Why would I want to change anything?’

‘Surely you wish to put your own stamp, your own style, on the house,’ Mama said. ‘Hal would not have asked you to do this if he did not expect that.’

‘It would be a great deal of disruption, to say nothing of pointless expense, to make changes just for some whim of mine,’ Thea said firmly, earning another approving look from Mayhew. ‘When I have lived in each house for a while, I may have suggestions for changes, but for now, it is premature.’

‘Well, at least look at your suite, even if you do not want to make changes to the reception rooms.’ Mama led the way to the hall.

Thea thought mutinously that she would much prefer to survey her own future bedchamber by herself, and certainly not in company with her mother, Mayhew and Mr Scott, the earnest young secretary, notebook in hand, pencil poised, pince-nez clamped to the end of his nose.

However, one could hardly say so, let alone explain why, so she obediently toured the ground-floor sitting room, which was pale green and pink with one wall of Chinese paper, its flowers and exotic birds giving the space the air of a garden room.

‘This is delightful. There is nothing I would change here,’ she said firmly.

Upstairs, the Duchess’s Suite, as Mayhew announced it, opening the door with a flourish, consisted of another sitting room, the bedchamber, a dressing room and a bathing chamber.

The sitting room was a little formal, but that could wait and she certainly was not going to criticise it now.

The bedchamber, which appeared to be half filled with The Bed , as she could not help thinking of it, was far too frilly for her taste.

Perhaps when all the bouffant and decorated soft furnishings were stripped back, The Bed would not loom so.

She would feel ridiculous, sitting in the middle of it, encased in pink frills, white tulle and what looked like an acre of fine Brussels lace. But at least she would not have to spend her wedding night in it, which was one mercy. Again, that could wait.

The dressing room was a masterpiece of mahogany fittings with enough room to store three duchesses’ wardrobes. That certainly did not require any changes and she suspected that Jennie would be thrilled.

Mama, however, had discovered the bathing chamber, and was exclaiming in delight at the large bath, the pretty washstand and, behind a tactful screen, a wonderful innovation.

‘The latest design utilising Mr Joseph Bramah’s valve closet,’ Mayhew murmured from the doorway, then effaced himself, leaving the ladies to view this marvel in sanitary engineering in privacy.

Thea would have been happy to leave on that discovery, but Mama insisted that they tour the kitchens and meet the chef and the housekeeper.

Thea had asked Mr Scott to make a note of the names of the servants they encountered so she could be certain to learn them all quickly.

Mama maintained that it improved domestic discipline if one knew all one’s servants.

Thea preferred to think that everyone was happier if they were treated like human beings.

The afternoon was taken up with a visit from Hal, bearing flowers not only for Thea, but also for her mother, which Thea considered showed cunning.

‘The flowers are lovely, not that you need to turn Mama up sweet,’ she told him, lapsing into some of Piers’s regrettable slang. ‘Simply being a duke is quite enough to ensure that she is a happy mother-in-law.’

He tutted in pretend disapproval, whether at her cynicism or her language, she wasn’t certain. ‘Have you any thoughts on what you would like changed in the town house?’ he asked.

‘I thought it better to wait until I was used to it before making any suggestions,’ Thea said. ‘Everything seems delightful and very efficiently run.’

But The Bed must go…

‘Thank you, and that does seem sensible,’ Hal said. ‘I hope you will like the castle and the other houses as well.’

It would be a brave new duchess who took a dislike to Leaming Castle, Thea thought. ‘How many are there?’ she asked.

‘Six, in addition to the town house, the castle, the Dower House and the shooting lodge in Leicestershire,’ he said.

‘Oh. How lovely.’ Her family owned this house, Wiverbrook Hall, a small dower house and an elegant villa in Brighton. ‘I should have found that out for myself. Do you have a seaside villa?’

‘No, but we can remedy that.’ Hal looked interested. ‘Where would you like? Brighton?’

‘It does get very crowded in the summer season, especially now that the Prince Regent seems determined to expand his home there. Papa was talking of selling ours and looking elsewhere.’

‘We can have a summer expedition and put all the coastal resorts under review,’ Hal said. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think I would enjoy that very much.’ Thea found herself ridiculously excited by the idea and realised that all the emotional worries she had over this marriage had stopped her thinking about some of the more practical, everyday advantages.

Perhaps if she focused on interesting tours, visits to the seaside, wonderful indoor plumbing and the pleasure of Hal’s company, she would be less anxious.

‘Excellent. I have brought my preliminary list of wedding guests and thought it might be a good idea to sit down with you and your mother to see where we have duplications, or it there are any problems. It would be good to have some idea of how many guests will need to be accommodated.’

‘What a good idea.’ Thea, daunted by the length of the list he produced, told herself firmly that it was about time she started thinking like a duchess and learned how to manage a castle full of guests with aplomb.

Mama, of course, was in her element, with Mr Scott by her side marking off on her draft guest list the names that were already on Hal’s.

‘Eighty-five,’ the secretary announced. ‘That is for the ceremony and the wedding breakfast. Of those, Your Grace, you have indicated that sixty-two will require accommodation. Then the suggested list for the ball the evening prior to the ceremony is two hundred, including those invited for the day.’

‘You can accommodate sixty-two guests and their staff in the castle?’ Thea asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

‘We will use the Dower House as well, and the single men can go to the Leaming Arms in the village, I have written to ensure all their rooms are free,’ Hal said. ‘Now, do you feel this is a complete list, Lady Wiveton, or shall we leave it another week to make certain?’

‘No, with your additions, Duke, I feel that is quite complete.’

‘Thea?’ he asked. ‘Are your attendants already included? Is there anyone else?’

‘Yes, they are, and no, thank you.’ She found she was quite calm about this enormous gathering because there was no room for panic in her mind—it already had far too much to worry about.

She was going to marry a man who did not love her, and she would lie in his bed, raise his children and spend the rest of her life with him.

As long as we both do live . She remembered the wedding service.

It said something about love, as well. She could manage that, but she could not see how Hal could promise to experience an emotion he did not feel, however much the church ordered him to.

Set next to that, she could manage a wedding and a house party that included all of the Royal Dukes, if she had to.

‘No Royal Dukes?’ she said, meaning it as a joke.

Her mother went pale. ‘Should we?’

Hal laughed. ‘I do not think so. It would mean them bestirring themselves to travel, for one thing. I have invited them to my ball—which I am alarmed to realise is the day after tomorrow—and I imagine we will be honoured by the presence of two or three of them.’

‘Including the Prince Regent?’ Mama asked faintly.

‘He is the most likely. We might see York or Kent as well.’

‘Who is your hostess to be?’ Thea asked. It wouldn’t be her, even though she was betrothed to him.

‘I have asked my cousin Augusta, Lady Brinklow,’ he said. ‘Brinklow’s in Paris, working on the various treaties. All you ladies have to do is attend and enjoy yourselves.’

Mama appeared pleased by that, and Thea knew she would revel in receiving the congratulations of her wide acquaintance on securing such a brilliant match for her daughter.

Thea was less certain of how she felt. She would have no role to keep her mind occupied; instead, she would be stared at, talked about, assessed critically and would have to cope with a stream of comments, not all of them kindly, given that she was removing the most eligible gentleman of the Season from the Marriage Mart.

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Hal was hardly out of the door before Mama began to fret about her gown.

‘We already have the perfect gown,’ Thea said.

‘Yes, but Royal Dukes . The Prince Regent .’

‘I am certain that if I am well-dressed, which I will be, they will not take the slightest interest in my gown.’ Unless the neckline was too low, Thea thought, remembering her sole encounter with one of those dukes—York—all pop eyes and a very obvious interest in cleavages.

And the Prince Regent was reputed to be the worst of them.

‘Yes,’ Mama agreed. ‘But everyone will see you meeting the princes. You must look perfect.’

Thea assumed an expression of concerned interest and let her mind go blank.

She loved both her parents, in as far as anyone could who was brought up with so little informal contact and with no expressions of affection given or expected on either side.

But she had to admit, being free from Mama’s constant anxiety that everything was perfect, would be a blessed relief.