Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) (7 page)

Hard on the heels of the vicar
and his family was Jeremy Ingles, Lord Westcott. Isobel felt a flutter of
excitement as she saw him. He was not overly tall, but was well-built and very
attractive. His finely chiseled features, including a pair of deep set dimples,
dark hair and bright blue eyes, not to mention his boyish charm, had drawn her
in from the moment they had met seven years ago. Isobel and Lord Westcott had
first been introduced during her come out and she had been strongly attracted
to him and he to her. However, their relationship had not developed into
anything more than an enjoyable flirtation, since he had not been ready for a
wife at the time. Wescott had only been twenty five years old, his father had
still been hale and hearty, and he had no intention of being leg shackled until
it was absolutely necessary. Now, at thirty one, his father in poor health, it
was rumored he was on the lookout for a bride. Isobel reminded herself that she
was not in the market for a husband as he took her hand and kissed it.

“Ah, the lovely Miss
Kennilworth. What a delightful surprise. Was it not only yesterday that we
waltzed at the Putnam’s ball? It must be, for you look no different than you
did then.”

She smiled at him, hiding her
pleasure at his remembering their first dance. “You must not pour the butter
boat over me all at once, My Lord. We have a full seven days at Adelphi, so you
must save some of your compliments for later.”

He smiled charmingly, holding
her hand just a moment longer than was proper. “I look forward to it, Miss
Kennilworth.”

The drawing room where the
guests had gathered was buzzing with conversation when Lester, the butler,
announced Lord and Lady Edgerton. Lady Beatrice Edgerton swept in as if the
party had been waiting for her to begin. She had been the toast of the season three
years ago, the Incomparable of 1814, and had landed the aging Earl of Edgerton.
Lady Edgerton was breathtakingly beautiful and fully aware of it. She greeted
Isobel with the ghost of a smile, but Isobel did not take it personally. She
greeted every female in the room in the same manner, though every male in the
room received a dazzling smile accompanied by a sparkling laugh meant to charm.
It appeared to Isobel to be working. The Earl was nearly fifty and genial, if
not a bit obtuse. If he noticed that his wife was only interested in the males
in the party and their response to her, he never let on.

Just as Henrietta was about
to suggest that everyone retire to their rooms to rest and dress for dinner, the
butler announced Mr. and Mrs. Hyde-Price, who entered looking slightly
bedraggled. Just behind them, supported by Lord Saybrooke, his clothes grimy
and rumpled, his hair, as usual, in disarray, limped in Miss Lydia Hyde-Price. Saybrooke’s
eyes bulged at the sight of Isobel, but his good manners reasserted themselves
as he helped the limping Miss Hyde-Price to a seat.

Mrs. Hyde-Price could barely wait
for her daughter to be gingerly seated on the settee, her ailing ankle lifted
onto an ottoman, before she burst out with the tale of their misadventures. It
seemed that the Hyde-Price’s coach had suffered a broken wheel about ten miles
from Adelphi. With the coach lurching from the impact, the coachman had tried
to rein in the horses. But, he was thrown clear of the carriage. The frightened
horses continued to run until the reeling carriage caused an axle to break,
freeing the horses and causing the coach to topple on its right side into the
ditch, pitching its occupants onto what was now the bottom of the coach. Mrs.
Hyde-Price, in an effort to shield her daughter, had thrown her considerable
bulk on top of Miss Hyde-Price and had succeeded in crushing her diminutive
daughter’s ankle. This was, of course, not the way Mrs. Hyde-Price described
it.

“All I could think about was
our dear Lydia and I did my best to shield our darling girl with my person,”
declared the doting mother. No one doubted the sincerity of her words, merely
the wisdom of her actions. “My goodness, I am parched. I believe I could use a
little something for my throat.”

After being plied with some
tea laced with brandy and approbation for her heroic act, Mrs. Hyde-Price
resumed her narrative. Mr. Hyde-Price had made a valiant effort to extricate
his family from the broken carriage, but to no avail. Mrs. Hyde-Price did not
mention that her husband’s excessive girth had made the exercise futile. It had
seemed like hours to the desperate family, but was, in reality, slightly more
than a quarter of an hour before Lord Saybrooke came upon them. With a great
deal of effort, he managed to free the Hyde-Price’s, though after her mother
and father, Miss Hyde-Price seemed like a feather. Saybrooke then proceeded to
calm the traumatized family, assess their injuries, which were minor, check on
the coachman, whose leg seemed to be broken and calm and unharness the horses.
Just as they were discussing what to do next, Lord Saybrooke’s carriage, arrived
on the scene, carrying his valet, Wilkes, and the luggage. The Hyde-Prices were
bundled into the coach, along with the Hyde-Price’s ailing coachman. Wilkes was
forced to sit next to the driver. The beleaguered group then made their way to
Adelphi.

During the narrative, Isobel
looked over at the injured Miss Hyde-Price. She was a pretty, slightly plump
little thing, with blonde ringlets and china blue eyes. Despite her current
appeal, Isobel thought that she would look just like her mother in a decade or two.
Miss Lydia Hyde-Price did not return Isobel’s look, for her pretty blue eyes
were focused adoringly on Lord Saybrooke. Mrs. Hyde-Price continued to expound
on the incident long after the story was told, referring again and again to
Lord Saybrooke’s bravery, strength and chivalry. Isobel and Saybrooke exchanged
a few speaking glances, while the rescued lady sang his praises. Isobel’s
glances said that she was amused; Saybrooke’s that he was uncomfortable with
such lavish praise.

The guests were all directed
to their rooms and the doctor was sent for to tend Miss Hyde-Price’s ankle. Dinner
was put off an hour so that the Hyde-Price’s and Lord Saybrooke would have the
chance for some respite after their exhausting adventure. Lady Mercer headed to
the nursery and Isobel gladly went to her room to ponder the varying
undercurrents her appearance at Adelphi had caused. She had expected a certain
amount of disapproval and had received it. But the situation was not hopeless. She
certainly had not counted on such a warm greeting from Lord Westcott. Other
than Henrietta and the hoyden Lady Joanna, he was the only person to truly seem
glad to see Isobel. Drew had looked as if he had seen a ghost. Time would tell
whether or not this was a wise decision to ease herself back into society so
soon. But she would do everything in her power to show them that though she no
longer held a title; she was a duchess at heart. She instinctively jutted out
her chin and rang for Manning, steeling herself for the ordeal that would be
dinner.

*****

Dinner was not a complete ordeal.
The food and wine were superb and the conversation lively and entertaining, for
the most part. Isobel sat between Lord Westcott and Mr. Hyde-Price. She began
talking with Mr. Hyde-Price, who until that moment due to the confusion of
their arrival, did not realize that Miss Kennilworth was the former Duchess of
Warwick. His face clouded over. The Hyde-Price’s, though not a titled family,
were very wealthy and influential, and Mr. Hyde-Price was known to be a
stickler for convention. Isobel decided to go on the offensive.

“I am sure you have heard of
my misfortune, sir, and hope you do not hold it against me. I assure you, I had
no knowledge of Warwick’s duplicity. It came as quite a shock. Dear Henrietta
was kind enough to take pity on me and ease me back into society. She is a true
friend and I mean to make sure that nothing spoils this lovely party for her.
Do you not agree?”

What could he say? Hyde-Price
mumbled something that sounded like agreement and they spoke of the weather, the
season in London, and the plight of his carriage, horses and coachman for a few
minutes. Very quickly they had run out of things to say. She felt Lord
Westcott’s eyes on her, nodded at Mr. Hyde-Price and turned to the neighbor on
her left.

“I must say, Miss
Kennilworth, that color -what is it, some sort of blue- looks enchanting on you.
You look divine,” stated the Viscount, full of admiration.

“So you said when you
escorted me in to dinner, Lord Westcott. And the color is called cobalt blue,”
Isobel replied, careful to maintain a composed manner. “I thank you again.”

“I heard you mentioning
your…misfortune to Hyde-Price a moment ago. Does that make the subject
permissible?”

“It is not forbidden to speak
of it, my Lord, but I do not care to discuss it at length,” Isobel said calmly
and quietly.

“I only want to convey my
deepest sympathy and my disgust at Warwick’s treatment of you. I cannot imagine
a more ungentleman-like thing to do. If you ever need to speak of it, of his
unforgiveable behavior toward you, I put myself at your disposal.” Lord
Westcott kept his voice low so that no one else at the table could overhear. He
spoke with a gentleness and sincerity that brought tears to Isobel’s eyes.

“Good heavens, Miss
Kennilworth, I do not mean to make you cry,” Lord Wescott softly exclaimed in
alarm.

“I shall not cry, Lord
Wescott. It is just that your solicitude has touched me quite deeply. I have
lost much in the last few weeks, including my place in the world and most of my
friends. But, first Henrietta reached out to me and now you. It gives me hope,
my Lord and I thank you.” Isobel’s voice was barely above a whisper and despite
her words, a stray tear trailed down the porcelain skin of her cheek.

“I hope I will always stand
your friend, Miss Kennilworth.” Lord Westcott’s voice was almost a caress, but
realizing where he was, he raised his voice slightly and asked, “Have you seen
Kean in “The Italians” this season? It has been quite remarked upon, but I
found it dull.”

This began a pleasant
conversation about plays, books and music, that once Isobel had regained her
composure, she enjoyed herself completely. Lord Westcott made her laugh, as she
had not laughed in months, if not years. In fact, the two most impolitely
ignored their partners on either side. But, Lady Mercer, noting this, did not
plan to reproach either one of them. It was worth it to see Isobel laugh again.

Across the table, Saybrooke
also took note of how Westcott monopolized Isobel’s conversation. He glowered at
the couple. The partner on his left, with whom he had been conversing before
his attention had been diverted to Isobel and the rotter Westcott, spoke.

“Is something wrong, My Lord?
Are you quite all right?” Miss Hyde-Price asked with real concern, seeing the
look on his face.

“What? Oh, no, no, not at
all. I apologize, Miss Hyde-Price. I was lost in thought. I tend to do that at
times. I am afraid I am quite bookish.” Saybrooke laughed apologetically.

“I think bookish men are
wonderful. So many others in society are so violent with duels and boxing
matches and the like. I find you quite refreshing.” Miss Hyde-Price batted her
lashes in such an outlandish fashion that Saybrooke could barely stifle a
laugh.

Before he could think of a reply,
however, his partner on his right claimed him. Lady Edgerton was a much more
accomplished flirt than Miss Hyde-Price, and so the relief he felt when Lady
Edgerton rescued him soon disappeared. He wished himself in the bookroom at Bentwood
– or any bookroom really. He smiled at Lady Edgerton and silently wished her to
perdition.

Lady Mercer rose after
everyone had eaten their fill, indicating that the time had come for the ladies
to retire and leave the men to their port, cigars, and no doubt ribald
conversation. Before they could exit, Lester, the butler, rushed to Lord
Mercer’s side and handed him a sealed envelope. Mercer calmly placed it by his
wine glass and nodded to his wife as a sign that the ladies were free to go. Isobel
regretfully left Lord Westcott’s side.

“The Museum Room,” Lady
Mercer directed the two footmen who were assisting Miss Hyde-Price. Her mother had
insisted, and they all had assumed that Miss Hyde-Price would dine on a tray in
her room, the doctor having diagnosed a sprained ankle and prescribed bed rest
for the young lady. But Miss Hyde-Price was used to getting her own way and she
was determined not to miss a moment of the house party languishing in her room.
Heedless of the inconvenience it caused her host and hostess, Miss Hyde-Price had
coaxed and pleaded and ultimately wheedled her way downstairs, flanked by two
burly footmen. To her it was quite simple. If Lord Saybrooke was to dine
downstairs, then so was she.

The Museum Room was at the
back of the house with French doors that led to the garden. It was so named
because of the number of expensive and impressive paintings that graced the
room. Mercer was an avid art collector and Isobel recognized a Rubens and at
least two Vermeer’s. Before the advent of Lady Mercer the room had always been
called the Garden Parlor, but when Lady Mercer had come to live at Adelphi
after her marriage, she had taken one look at the room and renamed it. It was
now the Museum Room.

As soon as they entered the
room and Miss Hyde-Price was settled on the couch with her foot elevated, Lady
Mercer asked Miss Parrish if she would play the piano for them. She graciously
agreed and began to play quite beautifully, with a surprising amount of passion
in such a shrinking violet. As soon as the music began, the ladies formed
little groups. Lady Cynthia dutifully went to entertain Miss Hyde-Price. Lady Stoughton
held court with Lady Doncaster and Mrs. Hyde-Price. Henrietta chatted amiably
with Mrs. Parrish. Isobel noticed Lady Edgerton seated by herself near the
hearth and grudgingly felt compelled to join her, until she felt a hand on her
elbow guiding her toward the settee. “I’d love a comfortable little coze, Miss
Kennilworth. Would you join me?” Lady Joanna smiled at Isobel as she led her to
the seat by the French doors.