"Dear Lord Holland is a far truer patriot than his wife, I must confess." She took a sip from her delicate wine glass. "So you've married Lord Haverstock's last unmarried sister. . ." Lady Holland's eyes locked with his, and he realized that she was probably the same age as he, not the old matriarch he had expected.
"Yes, my lady, it was my good fortune that Lady Elizabeth was still available when I returned from my travels."
Her gaze swept to the head of the table where her portly husband was animatedly chatting with Philip's wife. "She is lovely. This is the first time I've seen her. Though she's not as beautiful as her brother's marchioness. I do believe Lady Haverstock is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
He shrugged. "But she was already wed to my closest friend. I count myself fortunate that I was able to woo my lovely Elizabeth."
"Do you know that is my first name?"
"Elizabeth is a lovely name."
"Thank you. I understand that you have only recently returned from several years in Italy? Oh, to be back there! That is where Lord Holland and I met and fell in love."
"It is much changed now. None of the Bourbons or Habsburgs rule there any longer. Only Napoleon's puppets."
Her face was inscrutable. "I never did care for the King of Naples. His wife, though, was most pleasant. Like her sister, Marie Antoinette, or so the Duchess of Devonshire told me. I never knew the French queen, owing to my youth." She took the large bowl of pigeon pie—one of half a dozen identical ones—scooped more on to her plate, then passed it to him, forcing him to set down the small bowl of calf's feet jelly from which he had been serving himself.
After dinner, he was pleased to be separated from Lady Holland whilst the men stayed in the dinner room, drinking their port and talking about Parliamentary matters. He did feel beastly for poor Elizabeth when she tossed him a fearful look as she departed the chamber with a gaggle of unfamiliar matrons.
He was flattered when Lord Holland said, "Pray, your grace, will you not come sit by me?"
When Philip did, his lordship said, "We must become more well acquainted now that you're back from Italy."
"I am honored to be asked here tonight. As it happens, I am trying to gather support for passage of the tax increase bill."
Lord Holland's face collapsed. "Oh, dear. I told my wife I would not vote in favor of it."
"Then I shall have to attempt to charm your lovely wife." Philip's lightly spoken words belied his grievous disappointment. It seemed everywhere he turned he met with immovable opposition.
"I still don't know why you thought it necessary I have four new dresses," Clair snapped as she and her sister-in-law climbed into the Aldridge coach. She had been subjected to more than two hours of looking through pattern books, selecting colours and fabrics, and being measured and pinned whilst standing in front of the entire staff of Madam Duvall's virtually undressed for three-quarters of an hour.
Elizabeth instructed the coachmen to take them to Trent Square, then pleasantly greeted Abraham, the tall, well-formed footman who Philip had selected to serve as their protector outside the genteel avenues of Mayfair.
In the coach, she faced Clair. "If you must know, I am being selfish."
"In what way?"
"Since I am required to serve as chaperon for Philip's unmarried sisters when they attend balls or the assemblies at Almack's, I crave a sensible woman to keep me company."
"You don't need someone to keep you company. A woman as young and as lovely as you could dance every set. You need not sit around with the gossiping matrons."
"Aw, but like you, I have no desire to dance. Except with Philip, that is."
"But I detest assemblies, and I do not fancy dancing in the least. In fact, my dancing is most inferior."
"If your dancing is inferior, it is because you put no effort into learning to do it properly. Just as you put no effort into dressing your hair." Elizabeth had been dreading approaching the subject of Clair's hair. It was difficult to criticize one's appearance without offending, and Elizabeth had spent her life avoiding giving offense to anyone—even an incompetent servant.
"But you know I care not about what is fashionable."
"We are all well aware of that. But I must ask you—as your sister—an exceedingly personal question."
Clair's finely shaped brow rose in query.
Elizabeth had agonized for many hours over how she would approach these matters with Clair without making her feel as if they wanted to be rid of the spinster. Then it occurred to her that she need only be honest, to speak from her heart.
"First, I must tell you how grievously I miss my sister Charlotte since she's married," Elizabeth began. "I would like nothing better than for you to replace the comfortable camaraderie we shared for nearly twenty years. Of all Philip's sisters, you are the one with whom I have the most commonality."
"I am flattered. Flattered and excessively pleased, for I believe I could be closer to you than I am to any of my birth sisters."
Elizabeth favored her with a gentle smile. "For my own feelings, I would hope you never wed and go away to your own home. But I must ask what it is
you
want from life. Do you never want to fall in love? To marry? To have your own home? Your own children?"
Clair did not answer for a moment. "I will own, I've never given much thought to love. I am utterly UNlike my sisters in that regard. But, yes, it would please me to one day be mistress of my own home. I would like to have a family. And I suppose, a husband. It is just that nothing in the world bores me more than an assembly or a ball."
"There are other ways of meeting gentlemen—though now that I know you don't hate men, I shall have to insist upon you dancing, if asked."
"I am much more interested in hearing about these
other ways
."
"For example, next Friday, I shall being serving as my cousin Richie's hostess for a political dinner. You must be there. I think you, being knowledgeable about Parliament, will make contributions to the conversation."
"I will be honored to sit at
that
table!"
Elizabeth's heartbeat skidded. She needed to bring up that other matter. Now. "Before that, I think it will be good to have my maid rearrange your hair. I would suggest you allow her to cut it into the style that is so fashionable right now."
Clair's eyes narrowed. "Then how would I be able to put it into a bun?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "You won't."
"Then I'd have to wear curl papers!"
"What would that hurt? We all do."
It was a moment before Clair responded. "Only to please you, I will submit to having my hair cut and curled. I'll be the lamb to slaughter."
Elizabeth laughed.
Both ladies were happy to arrive at Trent Square. It was Abraham, tall and blond and handsome, who opened the coach door for them. "We will need you to assist in the moving of some more furnishings," Elizabeth told him.
There was always something there that demanded their attentions. When they entered the large, rambling house, the sound of banging piano keys filled the residence. The two ladies went straight to the music room. There, surrounding Margaret were three girls and two boys—all of them roughly the same size, which Elizabeth judged to be about seven years of age. Next to Margaret on the pianoforte bench was the lad who was happily pounding upon the keys. "Why, Joseph, do you not show the others now how to do the scales?" Margaret prodded in a gentle voice.
The other children were so fascinated over the instrument they had not noticed Elizabeth and Clair enter the chamber.
After complimenting Joseph on his scales, the two women hunted down Caroline. "Your grace," she said to Elizabeth, "I should like to present to you the latest and last family to occupy Trent Square. This is Mrs. Wright, and her two daughters and two sons."
The woman stepped forward and curtseyed to Elizabeth, who thought the woman looked a great deal like Clair because she was freckled and careless with her hair and was even near the same age as Clair.
"I am pleased to meet you," Elizabeth said, lowering herself to be on level with the children. "And what are your names?" Remarkably, they all looked to be nearly the same age. If she were one to wager, she would bet no more than three years separated the youngest of the four from the oldest.
Their appreciative gazes raking over the duchess's fine lavender dress that was adorned with purple ribbands, the children stepped up and shyly whispered their names, except for Sarah, the smallest. Sarah apparently did not know how to say anything without using all the power her lungs could command to inform Elizabeth—and anyone within forty feet—that she was three.
Mrs. Hudson then swept into the chamber. Because she had been the first tenant at the Trent Square home, she had taken it upon herself to be the abbess, dowager, and headmaster, all rolled into one young woman barely twenty years of age. "Your grace, this is so exciting. We have now filled every chamber! Can you believe that among us are eight and twenty children?"
And Mrs. Hudson contributed only one small girl to that total.
Elizabeth was almost overcome by the realization that were it not for her scheme, those twenty-eight children would not have a warm comfortable home, food in their bellies, and a bed to sleep in. "I couldn't be happier. I pray all of you will get along as a single, happy family."
"I am certain we shall. Why, Mrs. Leander was just telling me today she felt as if she were one of the royal princesses."
Elizabeth and Clair laughed. "I shan't want to get your hopes up," an exhilarated Elizabeth said to Mrs. Hudson, "but I am happy to tell you that my cousin and my husband have agreed to support a new bill that would provide soldier's widows with a comfortable pension." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Elizabeth regretted speaking them. She had been so exuberant over the measure, she had blurted without thinking. "Pray, do not place too much confidence in the plan. They are only two men in that vast body of Parliament. It will take many, many votes to approve such a measure, and as you must know, money is not something the government has in plentitude."
Tears filled the widow's eyes. "Oh, your grace, that's as wonderful as Number 7 Trent Square." She put her hands upon Elizabeth's as if to bless them. "With the Duke of Aldridge sponsoring such a bill, it must meet with approval."
"You credit my husband too much." It was a pity that Philip had been gone from England for so long. It would take time for the other Parliamentarians to trust him, time to earn their respect, time to develop those leadership skills she knew he'd been born with.
She never doubted that one day the Duke of Aldridge would be a force in Parliament. She just prayed that he could achieve that success sooner, rather than later.
"Mrs. Hudson, since Abraham has been yours to command, you must tell me if he's been helpful," Elizabeth said.
The youthful widow shyly smiled. "He has been ever so obliging."
"We have the duke to thank for insisting upon Abraham's service to us." Elizabeth's thoughts flashed back to the only day Philip had ever met Mrs. Hudson, the only day he'd ever come to Trent Square. The memory of that first stolen kiss still had the power to launch a fluttering in her heart.
* * *
When the night of Richie's dinner arrived, she was more excited over Clair's transformation than over her own first important dinner. Even before she'd put on her jewels, she raced down the corridor to Clair's bedchamber and softly knocked upon her door. "May I come in?"
"Certainly." Clair stood in front of her vanity, gazing into her looking glass. "Can that be me?"
Elizabeth felt like one first casting her eyes upon a treasure chest filled with priceless gems. First, her gaze settled on the wisps of soft brown curls framing Clair's delicate face. Why had she never before noticed how pretty her face was? It had not a single detracting feature, unless one did not favor freckles. For her part, Elizabeth thought the freckles lent a sweet youthfulness to her sister-in-law's countenance.
She then wanted to take in every aspect of the beautiful dress that elegantly draped over the smooth curves of her sister-in-law's dainty figure. "You shall steal away my breath! Why your hair. . . it is perfection. And that dress! It's exquisite. Peach is a most becoming colour on you."
"I declare, I feel as if a stranger is staring back at me from my mirror."
"You are very lovely." Elizabeth's gaze took in the sweet pearls circling Clair's slender neck. "I cannot think of a single thing that has been omitted."
Clair's lashes lowered as she took in Elizabeth's appearance. "You're not wearing a necklace?"
"I dashed over here whilst Philip's valet was finishing with him. My dear husband insists that he always be the one to adorn me with the Aldridge jewels."
The two ladies left the chamber and leisurely strolled to the duchess's chambers.
"Surely he's not distrustful of your maid?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No. He's keeping all the necklaces and other jewels in his chamber at present, merely for the dramatic effect of presenting me with a new one each night. I do believe if all the Aldridge family jewels were sold, they could buy an entire country!"
"If I were you, I would feel better not having the responsibility for so valuable a collection."
Elizabeth laughed. "I agree."
They entered the chamber, where Philip stood, holding still another velvet box. When he saw his sister's stunning transformation, the seductive gaze he'd been directing at his wife instantly changed to a broad grin. "My God, Clair, you look deuced lovely!"
Clair shrugged. "You could truly recognize me?"
He chuckled. "I will own, the difference is rather like a chrysalis." He began to circle around her. "Who selected the dress? It is perfection."
"You know I'm incapable of knowing what is fashionable," Clair answered.
His gaze flicked to his wife. "You've done very well." Then he came back to peer into his sister's eyes and speak in a gentle voice. "You make me very proud."