A Lady Compromised (The Ladies) (20 page)

             
“You may. I will look forward to a response from the new Earl’s solicitor. What is his name? You mentioned it?”

             
“The new Lord Ellsworth is called Augustine Harcourt.”

             
“Thank you, Jarndyce.”

             
“You are most welcome. Good day, my lord.”

             
Mason was unsure if he should inform Lady Delia that Rosewood was not, in fact, her guardian, but it seemed like information which would only infuriate her, as well as make her feel even more powerless. Her unhappiness at being forced out of her home was bad enough, but if he told her she had been forced out by an imposter? She would not take the news well. He would put off that information until their lives had settled into some greater semblance of normalcy.

Chapter 29

              Lady Delia stepped from the Lord Durham’s carriage into the garden at Lady Anne Burke’s town house feeling both excited and saddened over the loss of both Mason and Harriet’s company. It had been dizzying to have Mason so close—she had only to send for him and she could see him. Losing that, she felt as though she did not know when she would see him next. It was, to her, as if their engagement was somehow more tenuous. And Lady Harriet’s sweet disposition and chatter would be an additional loss. She had enjoyed the young woman’s company more than she could say, especially given her months of lonely mourning at Washburn Court.

             
“Welcome to my home, Lady Delia,” Anne Burke began as she led her into the house. “Despite your uncommon circumstances, I hope that you will be very happy here. And you will, of course, return to Durham House as soon as you and the Marquess are wed.”

             
“I look forward to it, my lady,” said Delia, “Though I am extremely grateful for your generosity.”

             
“And I am so pleased to have you, if even for a short time,” Lady Burke replied. “Do come into the drawing room and meet my daughter, Miss Felicity Burke.”

             
They were shown into a comfortable drawing room with a warm fire and deep crimson drapes that reminded Delia of Washburn Court. She felt, for not the first time, a twinge of homesickness. Lady Delia had never been away for so long, but wondered when she would return, as her cousin, the new Earl, would soon be living there and she would be the Marchioness of Durham. Perhaps she would be invited to visit once he arrived.

             
Miss Burke proved to be a delightful young woman, vivacious and outspoken like Lady Harriet, but blonder and slighter than her dear friend. She lowered her wide brown eyes when her mother came into the room, but soon had a sweet smile for Delia.

             
“I do hope you two will be friends,” Lady Burke said as the women settled to tea. “Lady Delia will be with us until her marriage to Lord Durham,” she told her daughter. “And we do not have a date for that happy event, so it may be some months.”

             
“I do hope it is not too long!” exclaimed Lady Delia and the ladies chuckled.

             
“Nor do I, for your sake. But you may wish to get to know the Marquess better prior to your wedding.”

             
“We know each other well enough, I think,” replied Delia, “Especially given our circumstances,” but at Lady Burke’s look toward Miss Burke, who was looking extremely interested, Delia quickly added “I mean, since so many marriages are arranged, and we actually were able to meet and interact a bit before our engagement. But you are right, of course, Lady Burke. I should not like to be married next week, for example, without having been taken riding in the park by his lordship.”

             
Lady Burke approved of Lady Delia’s quick change of direction and nodded before pouring herself a cup of tea. She directed the final preparation of her guest’s rooms and, after they had all chatted for over three-quarters of an hour, suggested an early bedtime. Miss Burke agreed and Lady Burke escorted Lady Delia to her new chamber.

             
“Your maid has, I believe, been unpacking?”

             
“Yes, my lady, and I am sure it is all in order.”

             
“Tomorrow I will have my
modiste
to the house by half-past nine. You will need a new wardrobe as Marchioness of Durham and his lordship mentioned to me that your clothes are not quite
the thing
. Not that it is any of your fault, of course. Only that you have nothing suitable for town and that you have been in mourning.”

             
“You are quite correct, Lady Burke, and I had only this morning requested that a seamstress be sent for. I am grateful that you have arranged it so neatly! I’m sure there was no way a reputable seamstress could have come to see me at Durham House, anyway.”

             
“Quite so, my dear. And you must endeavor to pretend that tonight was your first night in London, Delia. It is absolutely essential that you in no way suggest you had stayed in Durham House, or in Charles Street, or that you were not at Washburn Court for the past three months. It is imperative that until society believes your virtue to be intact and your reputation restored that you give no reason to doubt your story.”

             
“Yes, my lady. I understand completely, though I hardly think I ought to be punished for escaping from my guardian? After all, had I not run away to Town, I would be either compromised or married to him by now!”

             
“I am aware of that, my dear. But I am afraid society at large is not so forgiving. Please believe I entirely sympathize with your plight. We must however keep your bravery to ourselves.”

             
“I will endeavor to say nothing that would jeopardize either my soon to be restored reputation, nor ill-repay you for your kindness in taking me in and prevaricating slightly on my behalf, Lady Burke,” said Lady Delia with earnest dedication.

             
“That’s my girl,” approved her hostess. “And now, I will bid you goodnight. I will send a maid with your breakfast by eight. You will need to be prepared for fittings quite early.”

             
“I will be—and thank you again for your generosity, my lady.”

             
“You are quite welcome, my dear.”

             
When Delia found herself for the fourth time in three months sleeping in a new chamber, she sighed with exasperated acceptance. At least when she was finally Lady Durham, she would not have to be in some new place every week. She looked about and found her clothes, minus the two scandalous nightgowns that she assumed Mason had retained at Durham house, and toiletries unpacked and the pages of her unfinished novel bound together next to the bed. That, she decided, would have to wait until tomorrow. She was too exhausted to edit or write tonight.

             
The next morning when Delia awoke, she remembered for a moment when Mason had been next to her in bed the previous morning and with a small twinge of longing, turned over. She gazed at the empty pillow next to her but could not quite imagine sharing a bed with her future husband in Lady Burke’s house. It would be soon enough, she reminded herself, that she was his wife. Lady Delia rang the bell for Amelia and rose to bathe. The long day of fittings awaited her, which was slightly worrisome, given she had still the last two chapters of her novel to write. When the door was opened to the breakfast room, she was relieved to see only Lady Burke and Miss Burke.

             
“Good morning, my dear,” said Lady Burke, who was reading the
Gazette
.

             
“Good morning! I do hope I have risen early enough to meet the
modiste
?”

             
“Indeed you have! Felicity and I rarely rise in time to have breakfast in this room but today is an exception given that it involves shopping,” she continued with a wink.

             
“I own it has been over a twelve-month since I’ve had anything new…and it is probably evident from my wardrobe. But it’s not as if there are fashionable seamstresses in the country and no one takes much note of one’s gowns while one is in morning.”

             
“Which is as it ought to be,” replied Lady Burke. “I must warn you, however, that today is the day your engagement announcement to the Marquess is to run in the
Gazette.
Would you like to see it?”

             
Lady Delia gasped with surprised delight and rushed to immediately look over her hostess’ shoulder at the paper. She bent over the black-and-white print to see her name.

             
“Lady Delia Ellsworth, daughter of Percival Harcourt, the late Earl of Ellsworth, To Mason Broadstone, Fourth Marquess of Durham. My goodness, you put very little in the announcement, did you not?”

             
“Quite so. We felt it would invite speculation to draft additional text. We said only that which is factually accurate. Daughter of the late Earl of Ellsworth, et cetera.”

             
“You are undoubtedly correct.”

             
“Will people come to call today, do you think, mama, to congratulate Lady Delia?”

             
“I should think they must,” Lady Burke replied, “Though I confess I did not anticipate a large crowd earlier this week when I directed the menus. We shall simply have to wait until this afternoon to see what happens. The
modiste
will be able to get enough measurements and agreements about gowns this morning to give her plenty to work with. I told her to bring something that may be fitted to you by an assistant this morning so that you will have a gown to wear this afternoon for callers.”

             
“Goodness is such a thing quite possible?”

             
“My dear, after such an absence as you have had, and such gossip, we must ensure you are looking your absolute best this afternoon when all of the
ton
comes to call to have a look at you.”

             
“But—“ At that moment, a footman announced the arrival of Madame
Gireaux
, who had only just been shown into Lady Burke’s private sitting room above-stairs. The ladies arose and removed to where they would be left in privacy for the fittings.

             
“Madame Gireaux is not the mantua-maker for Felicity,” Lady Burke was explaining, “because Miss Burke is still a debutante. And while you are also a young lady, you are to be married quite shortly and will need a proper trousseau as well as clothing appropriate for going about town. There is no point in ordering a season’s worth of debutante gowns from a
modiste
like Miss Burke’s, who cannot really dress young married ladies.”

             
“Does she design your gowns, Lady Burke?”

             
“Some of them, my dear. She is favored by the most fashionable young married women in town and I’m afraid some of her designs are not quite the thing for a respectable middle-aged widow such as myself.”

             
“Oh I am sure that is not the case!” replied Lady Delia loyally as they entered the room where Madame had already drawn out yards of silks and muslins and ribbon.

             
“Good morning, Madame Gireaux!” Lady Burke sang as she approached the
modiste
. “I cannot thank you enough for doing this favor for me and Lady Delia.”

             
“I cannot resist the opportunity to dress the future Marchioness Durham,” Madame replied, “And it will be my pleasure. Let us first choose a gown for this afternoon so that my assistant Mimi can begin? I brought several unfinished options so that we could fit one to my lady and have it ready for callers.”

             
“May I look?” Lady Delia asked.

             
“But of course! Here is a gown in ivory muslin that would be appropriate for a debutante—I am afraid I have very few but I brought what I could.”

             
“I have been in mourning these last months and am not quite one and twenty. I need not have a collection of white muslin.”

             
“It is as I suspected then, my lady,” she said, nodding to Lady Burke. “Perhaps this deep emerald green, then?”

             
Lady Delia gasped with delight as Madame drew yards of rustling silk from the trunk she had brought to the fitting. The gown was exquisite green silk, a shade that shimmered with the dark hues of the pines at Washburn Court and she loved it immediately.

             
“Oh, yes, this one, I think!”

             
“I thought my lady would enjoy it,” the modiste’s assistant had already plucked the laces from Delia’s gown, which fell to the floor with a swoosh. She was instantly slipping the green silk over her head with barely a moment in which Lady Delia was standing in her thin chemise. The assistant looked at her and frowned.

             
“It is not quite right, Madame,” she said.

             
“Ah! Where is my lady’s corset?” Delia had removed it for the first fitting. “No! We must have one in the new style. These debutante corsets are not made for my gowns. Bring one of ours.”

             
The assistant, Mimi, drew the emerald silk from Delia’s shoulders and fitted one of Madame’s corsets around her slim waist. As Mimi laced, Delia’s small waist drew even smaller and her firm breasts were pushed up to fill the gown’s décolleté. When the fabric was drawn together and buttoned with the green silk-covered buttons, the effect was dramatic.

             
“My dear, you will stun,” said Lady Burke.