The Duchess and the Spy (33 page)

“How well do you know how to dress hair?” Isabella inquired.

*****

After dressing, she ventured out of her bedchamber and walked down the steps and into the grand entryway. She stopped short when she saw the morning paper lying on one of the half-moon tables and reached for it. She had completely forgotten what day it was. This was the day that she was supposed to meet her contact down on Bond Street. She should have told Christopher. If she could meet the man and get it all over with without being discovered…that would probably be best. Even though she felt like she was betraying him, he was gone…and she was on her own again.

“Deuce it all,” she said, as a hush fell through the library and a boyish looking footman flung the door open.

She walked into the library and stared openly at the gathered men. Noticing a mop of curly auburn hair, she grew heartened. “Roselyn. What is all of this?” she asked gesturing toward her two uncles and cousin, and a few men she didn’t recognize.

“These men are here to protect you. Papa and Jason decided to come along as well. Grandmother promised to come by this afternoon, but Aunt Elise felt quite poorly, and needed someone to attend her.”

“You look quite charming, my dear,” Henry said affably, leaning down and giving her a warm peck on the cheek.

“Roselyn, I need to go to the shops to buy some new frocks. I had dresses at Wyndham Hall, but we had to leave so abruptly that I didn’t have time to pack anything.”

The housekeeper walked into the room, and gave her a look that could kill.

“Pray tell me, does anyone know why Mrs. Bartlett seems to have such loathing for me?”

Henry seemed uncomfortable for a moment, and Jason ran his hand nervously through his hair, while Duncan jumped up and busied himself by inspecting Christopher’s vast collection of books.

“I believe, my dear, that unfortunately my rakish nephew did the unthinkable by bringing his mistress into the house for a short amount of time before she met her untimely demise. We all tried to persuade him against such a foolish idea, but he did it anyway, and learned to his great chagrin that it didn’t take Ashley very long to assume the position of the lady of Wyndham House. I believe that Christopher was so absorbed in his demanding work that he never grew wise to her rather troubling nature. But we all knew the true Ashley and I am very relieved to know that he found you instead.”

“So am I,” she admitted, watching Mrs. Bartlett move out into the entryway, and start giving out orders. The cook was assembled and she was listening attentively as the menu was discharged. Curious, she moved off of the Grecian styled chaise longue, and walked to the door. The footman opened it up for her. She watched as the housekeeper barked out orders, and then cuffed one of the cowering maids.

Bristling visibly, she heard her family move from their positions and come to stand behind her. Angered, she raced out into the entryway, and pulled Mrs. Bartlett swiftly away from the next maid that she was just about hit. “I don’t think so. Mrs. Bartlett, that sort of behaviour will not be tolerated in my household.” She nodded toward the astonished butler. “Mr. Trotter, pray open that door for me.” She held fast as Mrs. Bartlett tried to wiggle out of her grasp.

“Do you need some help, my dear?” Duncan offered, gaining a reprehensible look from Mrs. Bartlett.

“You cannot do this. Lord Wyndham will be outraged. You are definitely not Lady Ashley.”

“I wasn’t aware that Ashley had the title of lady. I thought she was a common strumpet. As for not being able to do this, you are sadly mistaken. I can do this, if you haven’t already noticed, I am Lord Wyndham’s wife that makes me Lady Wyndham and mistress of this house. My husband will not be outraged, because he realizes that it is my responsibility, not his.”

“You will pay for this.”

“You are wrong. You will pay dearly for it. You will be sent off without references, and you may wait outside of the servants’ exit, while someone gathers your clothing. I definitely think that you will not be working in Mayfair again, and don’t even think about trying to gain a position within the haut ton, because I will block your every attempt.” She shoved her out the door, and then brushed her hands off and glanced around the entryway triumphantly. “Well, that’s that. I am quite peckish, is there anything left to eat in the breakfast room?”

“Yes, my lady, and if there wasn’t, I would break tradition and make you something,” The cook said, beaming at her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tyler,” she murmured, watching as the other maids stared at her in complete adoration.

“What is your name?” she asked one of the maids.

“Ruth, my lady,” she answered promptly, promptly dropping into a curtsy.

“Ruth, could you go up to the servants’ quarters and pack up Mrs. Bartlett’s belongings, and then make sure she receives them?”

“Yes, my lady,” Ruth said, and then rushed off.

“Mrs. Tyler, I’ll have your menu prepared by eleven o’clock, is that soon enough?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Well then, everyone is dismissed,” she said, nodding approvingly at all of the servants that were lined up for inspection. They all rushed off to continue their daily chores, and Isabella turned around so suddenly that she smashed right into her Uncle Henry. She grunted as she made contact with his large bulky form, and muttered her thanks as he steadied her.

“Capitol. You have quite the talent for standing up for what is right.”

“Once you have eaten your full, we shall away to Bond Street,” Roselyn said. “Oh it shall be such fun. I myself haven’t been to London for quite some time, and I need to add to my wardrobe,” she gushed. Then, in a lower tone, as they all walked to the breakfast room, “Do you have access to Christopher’s accounts?”

“I simply don’t know,” Isabella confessed. “I need to go to the banks… and I don’t think he left me any pin money.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry,” Jason said. “Just put everything you purchase on the Brandon accounts. I’m quite sure they have accounts at all of the best shops.”

About an hour later, with her uncles residing comfortably in Christopher’s rather impressive Billiard room, Isabella sat down in her new morning room, and stared at all of the lingering impressions that Jane had made on the large light filled room. She stared over at Roselyn who had produced a fashion magazine and was studying it intently. “How about this one?” Roselyn asked, pointing to the burnt orange dress that had been painted on the inside of the cover.

Isabella grimaced painfully, and said quickly, “That style and color is quite passé in Paris.” She resumed writing out her list, and frowned when she heard Roselyn’s sigh of disgruntlement.

“But this is supposed to be one of the latest magazines shipped in from France.”

“You mean smuggled, dearest,” she reminded her gently. “But no matter, I am sure that the dressmaker shop that we go to shall have a capable modiste that keeps herself up on the latest fashions. Maria has an aunt here in town that seems to be quite an excellent dressmaker. We shall go there, when I can recall her name. We’ll have to browse the shops and hope we get lucky.”

“I guess we shall at that. You are still as absent minded as ever,” Roselyn laughed. “Well, why don’t we go and see if the men are ready to depart?”

“Excellent idea,” she said, standing up.

A footman came into the room, holding a silver tray with a man’s calling card on it. She took it and read it. “The Honourable Austin Blanding has left his card.”

“Isn’t he a relative of Christopher’s?” Roselyn asked.

“In that case, I suppose you should let him in,” Isabella said. The footman nodded his head, and left.

She sighed, “I rather don’t welcome this for some reason,” she said. 

The gentleman came into the Saloon and bowed. She frowned at the look that he gave Roselyn.

He was wearing a tight burnt orange tailcoat, and a dark brown waistcoat with a frilly white shirt, that had lace cuffs. His cravat was done in the most ostentatious knot that she had ever seen, and his tan fit breeches fit him like a second skin. No, she didn’t like this man at all.

“Pray fetch my uncles and cousin for me,” she said to one of the footmen. They nodded quickly, and departed. She stared at the footman in their gold livery, and relaxed somewhat when she noticed how brawny and capable they all seemed. For some inexplicable reason Blanding made her feel extremely nervous, and she just wanted him to leave Wyndham House.

“So my rakehell of a cousin finally got leg-shackled,” he remarked snidely, as he let his eyes have his full in staring at her rather impressive cleavage. She scowled at him again, and prayed that he would take his leave. He was the rudest man she’d ever encountered. He was even ruder than Pierre. Her eyes caught sight of his large signet ring that he wore, and she was just about to gain a clearer look of it, when her uncles and cousin came merrily out into the entryway. “Caught a pretty little bit of muslin,” Blanding continued. “I must remember to congratulate the fellow when I see him.”

“You are a bold one, aren’t you? I am a lady, sir, and I would appreciate it, if you would speak with decorum when you are around me, or keep that large ugly mouth of yours shut.” Roselyn let a little laugh escape her.

“Lady Wyndham, you should really advise your lady’s maid, to keep her mouth closed, when she is in the presence of her betters.” She stood up to order the man to take his leave, when Duncan intervened and slammed his huge paw against the man’s face instead. Isabella stepped back just as Blanding, collapsed onto the floor like a sack of flour. She bent over the cowardly man, and sighed as he sputtered out a meek challenge to her uncle.

“I would make haste to retract that challenge if I were you,” she admonished softly, as he pulled out his lace handkerchief to dab horrifically at the blood that was spewing from his nose and mouth. “My uncle, the earl, loves to fight his challenges with his cherished broadsword. I realize that this is a highly unusual practice, but alas, my uncle is a very unusual Scotsman. Oh, and by the by, you will probably end up begging for your life, since you just insulted not only me, but his precious daughter. You would be a wise man to count your blessings, if my uncle doesn’t challenge you.” She stepped quickly away from him, just as Henry pulled her gently back.

“Right, then,” Blanding murmured. “I shall take my leave, once I can find my feet.”

“I am disgusted with you, Austin,” Henry declared furiously, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. “You have the audacity to come into your cousin’s house and insult his wife, and her lady cousin? You are a foolish and despicable man, and I can hardly believe that you are my sister’s child. It is a shame that she died in childbirth, and left you to her blackguard of a husband.

“I should have taken you from your father and raised you as my own, but your father would not allow it. You have turned out as rotten as he is, and I realize to my despair that Christopher didn’t care one bit for you before you came here, and now if he ever lays eyes upon you again, he may just kill you, and I would not intercede. You are certainly not worth the trouble. Now, take your blasted hide and remove yourself from this house.”

“Now, see here. I simply wanted to inquire about Covington’s health, but in future I shall learn to not have compassion for my aunt’s husband.”

“You are a pretentious churl. Now be gone from this house!” she ordered.

Without saying anything else, he stumbled out of the room, and out of the house. A few moments later, they heard the arrival of her Grandmother.

“Well, my dear, I am supremely disappointed to discover that you aren’t resting,” Adaira declared, bursting energetically into the entryway. “It’s splendid to see you up and about though.” She smiled at her. “I see that Christopher has found you your own faithful guard dogs.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Grandmamma.”

“Well, as husbands go, he seems like a good one.”

“He is the best,” Isabella agreed, as Henry, Jason and Duncan politely took their leave, and returned to the Billiards Room.

“They have spent the entire morning in that room. I daresay that they are watching their game better than they are watching me.”

“Where is Christopher anyway?” Adaira softly inquired, gratefully taking a cup of tea from Isabella. She stared intently at the Spode teacup, and said, “I always did have a fondness for the Brandon pattern.” She sipped at her tea and sighed appreciatively.

“He had urgent business to attend to, and flew out of the house so quickly that it quite made my head spin. You wouldn’t happen to know of any women that would be suitable to be a housekeeper? I am in dire need of one, since I just fired Mrs. Bartlett. She was a dreadful woman.”

“Indeed she was,” Roselyn agreed.

“Coincidentally, enough I do. Her name is Mrs. Marsden and she is a charming woman. Her employer Lord Rundle just passed away, and she is out of work, since his nephew no longer requires her services. It seems he already has a housekeeper. Mind you, the woman is five and twenty, and she has quite the shapely figure, I warrant that she isn’t just keeping house.”

“Really Grandmamma, you do surprise me.”

“Well, it is the truth. And besides, I sympathize with the dear Mrs. Marsden. It seems as if all of my friends from my youth are dying off. Lord Rundle was one of my last friends in town, and now he is gone too. I don’t know who Elise and I shall be able to play cards with, now that everyone is dropping dead around us.”