“I pray you have the right of it, Colonel. But what are we to do about our plans for the Peabodys’ breakfast? You had generously offered the escort of yourself and his grace....”
“And we shall continue with those arrangements, my lady,” the colonel stated firmly, hoping his doubts about convincing the duke to follow a scheme he at present knew nothing about, and doubtless would not be happy to hear of, did not show on his face. “To be seen arriving together will do much to stay the rumors.”
“Thank you, dear sir. I do not know what I should have done tonight without your reassuring company.” Lady Fuddlesby smiled at the colonel while they both rose, the colonel holding the lady’s hand.
Knight arrived downstairs and entered the room. He saw the couple and vaulted to the top of the sofa next to them, hissing at Colonel Colchester.
“Knight! Goodness, what are you about!” Lady Fuddlesby asked the cat in surprise.
“Er, I shall take my leave now, my lady.” The colonel knew when to retreat. As he quit the room, he kept a wary eye on the hostile animal.
After the colonel left, an obviously angry Knight escorted her ladyship to her bedchamber. Lady Fuddlesby scolded her pet severely, if uselessly, until they both fell into a troubled sleep.
* * * *
Henrietta slept late the next morning but did not feel refreshed upon awakening. She tried to banish the morose feeling weighing her down, but it was still present when she went downstairs and greeted her aunt in the breakfast room.
“Good morning, my lady,” Henrietta began, eyes downcast. “I cannot think how to convey to you how terrible I feel about my disgraceful actions last night. I beg your forgiveness and give you my promise that from now on I shall be a perfect pattern of proper behavior.”
Lady Fuddlesby rose from her chair and came to take Henrietta’s hands in hers. “There, there, my darling girl. You are young, and youth must be allowed its mistakes. Of course I forgive you!”
Henrietta had to fight back the tears that formed in the back of her eyes at her aunt’s show of kindness and understanding. Her own mother had never behaved thus. “Thank you,” she managed.
They took their seats at the table, and Lady Fuddlesby poured a cup of chocolate for her niece and placed a roll on a plate for her. “Now, dear, you must eat something, for though we are invited to ‘breakfast’ at the Peabodys’, a Society breakfast does not begin until three in the afternoon.”
Henrietta drank some chocolate and asked, “Where do the Peabodys live?”
“Well, my dear, of course, they have a town house here in Mayfair, but they also have an estate in Surrey where the gathering is being held,” she explained in a light tone. Marshalling her forces, she made her announcement. “Colonel Colchester has graciously offered the escort of himself and his godson. I am certain we will be conveyed in the greatest of comfort in the duke’s carriage.”
Lady Fuddlesby almost backed down at the stricken look in her niece’s eyes but then relaxed when Henrietta brought herself under control.
“Drink your chocolate, my dear, and then we shall choose something fetching for you to wear. It always boosts one’s courage when one knows one looks one’s best,” Lady Fuddlesby pronounced.
* * * *
Lady Fuddlesby and Henrietta sat in the drawing room, both trying not to show how nervous they were while they waited for the gentlemen.
Henrietta wore a white muslin gown with a lilac spot. Her lilac pelisse was complemented by a chip straw bonnet decorated with matching lilac silk flowers and a small cluster of artificial grapes.
Chuffley announced the Duke of Winterton and Colonel Colchester.
Henrietta’s gaze flew to the duke, but he was his usual self, cool and aloof. He wore a dark blue coat over a white waistcoat. Biscuit-colored pantaloons were tucked into his shiny black Hessian boots.
Colonel Colchester smiled comfortably at the ladies, his manner defying anyone to tell him his godson and Miss Lanford were the prime subjects of the rumormongers. He looked about the room expectantly. “Where is my friend Knight?”
Lady Fuddlesby, in a rose-colored gown with matching pelisse, replied with a little laugh, “Can you not feel his gaze boring into your back from the fireplace mantel?”
Knight sat perched on his favorite people-watching post. His tail swished dangerously close to a Sevres vase while he stared at the colonel, murder in his eyes.
Colonel Colchester turned around and addressed the cat. “I have brought you something, my brave soldier.” He opened a bag he held and produced a small dish. Removing the cover, the colonel walked slowly over to the cat. “You do like fresh lobster, don’t you, Knight?”
Knight did indeed.
Colonel Colchester watched with satisfaction when he placed the dish on the floor, and the black and white cat jumped down from the mantel. Barely glancing at the gift-bearing colonel, the cat consumed the treat eagerly.
“Sir, what a shameless bribe! And so on target as well. Dear Knight never deigns to touch the ordinary fish head. He insists on table food, and I admit I indulge him,” Lady Fuddlesby said, chuckling appreciatively.
Henrietta could not suppress a ripple of laughter and thought she detected a gleam of humor in the duke’s eyes. The tension in the room seemed to lessen.
Colonel Colchester said, “Perhaps my unprincipled methods will serve to win him over. I do not wish to count him as my enemy,” he finished, directing a look at Lady Fuddlesby that brought color to the lady’s cheeks.
Winterton drawled, “If you ladies are ready, we should be on our way. I do not like to keep my cattle standing.”
The party moved out to the duke’s waiting closed carriage, which was as luxurious as Lady Fuddlesby predicted. A footman hurried to assist the ladies into the conveyance. Henrietta and Lady Fuddlesby sat on one side of the leather seats. To Henrietta’s consternation, the duke sat opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, brushing her skirts. The colonel sat across from Lady Fuddlesby.
When they moved off, the colonel and Lady Fuddlesby began a conversation about Knight. Lady Fuddlesby told the story of how she had rescued the dear little fellow, one day in the park when he was just a kitten, while he was being tortured by four small boys.
Only part of Henrietta’s attention was on the discussion. The other part of her mind was busy commanding her body to relax and stop being assailed with unwanted feelings at Winterton’s proximity. She had been mortified to learn he, along with his godfather, was to escort them to the breakfast. But she was astute enough by now to realize that it could only be advantageous to be seen in his company after the shameful doings of the previous evening. If only her heart would cease this useless longing.
For his part, the duke sat back, his lids half-closed, wishing he were elsewhere. He thought over the conversation he’d had with his godfather that morning.
The colonel had come to Giles’s bedchamber to find him sitting up in bed reading the morning paper. “My boy, I have offered our escort to Lady Fuddlesby and Miss Lanford to the Peabodys’ breakfast today.” At the duke’s disbelieving look, the colonel held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “It was done before the events of last night, and it would be unforgivable to withdraw the invitation at this late date.”
The duke sighed and folded the newspaper.
“Lady Fuddlesby is a good woman, but her niece wants conduct.”
“Miss Lanford is young, spirited, and learning her way. If her actions at Almack’s did display a lapse from proper behavior, it can be no excuse for lowering your own standard for good manners,” the colonel reminded him.
Sir Polly Grey paused in the middle of eating a breakfast of seeds and apricots to remark in the seventh Duke of Winterton’s voice, “Good manners and good breeding.”
The duke pointedly ignored the bird. He didn’t want to think of the breach from his usual superb conduct when he had shouted “Minx” after Miss Lanford.
“Very well, sir, we will keep the commitment. But I hope you will refrain from putting me together with Miss Lanford in the future. I tried to do my duty by her, warning her of that loose screw Baddick, and she refused to listen. After today, I want nothing more to do with the girl. I am in Town to find a wife, if possible. And I need not tell you that when I marry, it will be to some lady of excellent birth. Not some blue-eyed chit from a horse farm.”
Now, as the carriage bowled along, Winterton noticed the dark shadows underneath Miss Lanford’s blue eyes. Guilty conscience kept her awake last night, he thought with satisfaction.
Then his attention was abruptly caught as an astonishing sight met his eyes. Outside the carriage window was Sir Polly Grey’s frantic face. He flew alongside the glass, obviously trying to come to the notice of his master.
Winterton rapped his stick on the roof. “Hold hard!” he shouted. Then he muttered, “That bird is a Bedlamite. What notion could he have taken into his feathered head now?”
When the carriage slowed to a stop, the duke threw open the door and swiftly jumped down, ignoring the startled exclamations of his fellow travelers.
Sir Polly Grey had been in the room during the duke’s conversation with the colonel that morning. When Winterton had, for the first time, uttered the word “marry,” the bird had opened his beak in an expectant manner.
The old duke, training the parrot to speak his lecture about his son’s need to marry, had often rewarded the bird with the special treat of hothouse grapes when Sir Polly Grey had successfully repeated the phrases. Hence, oftentimes the old duke would say, “Yes, Sir Polly, Giles needs to marry,” while offering the prized grapes.
Winterton, of course, not knowing of this ritual, had not produced any grapes after saying the word “marry” despite indignant, squawking protests from the parrot. Sir Polly Grey apparently decided to follow his master, anxious to get his treat.
It had been a simple matter to unlock his cage door. Indeed, he had done so often in the past when he wished to exercise his wings. From there, the window latch proved amusingly simple, and he had flown out high above the trees following the duke.
He had followed the carriage unobserved until the unexpectedly long flight grew tiring. They were well outside Town.
The duke, standing on the ground looking up toward the bird, held out his hand in the manner of a perch for Sir Polly Grey. He wondered how the parrot had managed to escape the confines of his cage and find a way out of the town house.
Fortunately, the grateful bird came to him at once and the two entered the carriage.
Winterton gave the office to move forward. There followed some confusion when Sir Polly Grey flew over to land on Henrietta’s hat, pecking excitedly at the artificial grapes ornamenting it.
“Oh, your grace, he is beautiful!” Henrietta exclaimed. She let loose a trill of laughter while the duke quickly removed the parrot from her bonnet before harm could be done.
Blue eyes shining with pleasure, she asked excitedly, “Is he yours? Was he actually following us? May I hold him?”
“I suppose I must admit the scoundrel belongs to me. But I doubt if he will come to a stranger; these birds are known to be mistrustful....” He trailed off as Henrietta held out her hand in imitation of the way the duke made a perch out of his hand, and Sir Polly Grey promptly hopped over.
Henrietta gasped with obvious enjoyment. “Oh, he is lighter than I thought he would be, but his claws are so strong! Do but look how very lovely he is!”
Lady Fuddlesby and the colonel added their admiring comments, but the duke’s gaze was transfixed by the sight of the girl opposite him. She looked so fresh and innocent. Her delight in the bird charmed him. Her lips puckered while she tried to chirp back to the parrot, which was chattering bird nonsense. Shocking himself, the duke experienced a strong desire to kiss Miss Lanford’s pink lips.
The colonel interrupted these unsettling thoughts. “Er, don’t you think it might be wise to place some sort of covering on Miss Lanford’s clothing, in case Sir Polly has to, er, well, we wouldn’t want Miss Lanford’s pelisse soiled....”
“Yes, good idea,” the duke replied. He pulled out his handkerchief, reached over, and spread it out on Henrietta’s lap. Her wide blue eyes met his silvery gaze, and neither looked away. Long moments passed while the duke attempted to master an unfamiliar desire to protect and cherish Miss Lanford.
Henrietta desperately tried to discern the meaning behind the duke’s eyes, which were now a stormy gray color. She felt a slender, delicate thread begin to form between them, and she glowed inside in the shared moment.
Colonel Colchester observed the couple, and flashed Lady Fuddlesby a speaking look.
The spell was broken when suddenly the parrot saw the handkerchief and erupted into loud sounds of nose-blowing.
Everyone dissolved into whoops. Even the duke was laughing helplessly. When again in control of himself, he explained, “My father, who owned the bird for ten years, suffered from sneezing fits. Parrots have an excellent memory and they can produce sounds in their proper context. Hence, the use for a handkerchief was not lost on this intelligent fellow.”
The remainder of the drive passed in congenial conversation about the amazing bird, although not once did Sir Polly Grey speak in the seventh Duke of Winterton’s voice.
When they arrived at the Peabodys’, the duke gave instructions to a servant regarding food for the parrot. “Some fruit will serve. I seem to recall he is especially fond of grapes.”
The duke then charged his driver with securing some type of carton that might be used to transport Sir Polly Grey back to Park Lane in a borrowed gig.
The day was chilly, but the sun shone and there
was no wind. Long tables laid with white cloths and laden with food had been set up beside an ornamental lake. The duke bowed to Lady Peabody and Betina but avoided the vulgar pair.
The gathering was large. Society stared to see Miss Lanford and her aunt arrive, obviously in charity with the Duke of Winterton and his godfather after the scene at Almack’s the night before.
Lady Clorinda was present with her parents. She relished the jealous looks cast at her by the ladies of the ton who felt she had snatched the matrimonial prize of the Season. Made confident by the duke’s marked attentions paid to her at Almack’s Clorinda barely held her fury in check when Winterton arrived at the Peabodys’ with Miss Henrietta Lanford. Clorinda’s face, however, was a beautiful mask as she tripped up to them dressed in the thinnest of muslins.