“What is it, Giselle? Has something happened?”
“It’s the Duke, Mademoiselle. He is coming here. He’s at the door. Oh dear. Come.” She took Mimi’s face in her hand and took the rag from the bowl of cool water on the table by the bed.
She quickly sponged her mistress’s face then brushed her hair. Finally, she pulled a pink silk robe from the clothes press. She took a pot of paint from the dressing table and lightly dabbed a subtle pink colour onto Mimi’s lips.
“Let me help you with this.” Giselle stood back. “Oh, that’s fine. You look just fine, Mademoiselle.” Downstairs the door knocker hit the fine oaken door three times.
Marie dashed into the room. “Do you believe it? It’s the Duke. He is here to see, oh let me look at you, dear.” Marie took in the sight of her daughter. “Very good, Giselle. Very good. Now, off with you.” She pulled the window curtains open wider to allow more light into the sick room.
“You stay here and rest or do whatever you’ve been doing. Rest. Yes, that’s it. I’ll stall His Grace for as long as possible. At least until he can stand it no longer. Then I will bring him to see you. Under no circumstances are you to pinch your cheeks. You look beautiful, but still ill. It will play on his heartstrings no doubt.”
“Why is he here, Maman?”
“To see you, of course. You haven’t been to one social gathering since you took ill. It’s been almost three weeks, mon ange.”
“Very well, Maman.” Mimi sighed and picked up a book from the table at the bedside. It was a thin volume of French poetry.
Marie left the chamber. So the Duke had come to see her. Mimi wondered why Richard hadn’t been to visit her. If the Duke knew she was sick, Richard most certainly knew also. She leaned her head back on the plumped up pillows and sighed.
Why had Richard acted so standoffish when last she’d seen him at the party his parents had arranged for his homecoming? There had to be a way to contact him. She had to find it. She needed to know if he still loved her. He’d seemed to have been so angry with her.
She heard footsteps on the stairs. Her mother was bringing the Duke up to her chamber. Mimi quickly pinched her cheeks to give them a hint of colour despite her mother’s instructions. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and composed her face.
The heavy door opened. Marie walked into the room followed by none other than Duke Hertford.
Mimi smiled and extended her hand. “Your Grace.”
Chapter 13
London
Spring 1815
“Will you be escorting Lady Elizabeth Stevens to the Almack’s ball this evening, Lieutenant?”
“No, no not tonight, Blackmore. Lady Elizabeth is tired from our ride in the park this afternoon. She sent her man around to tell me she wasn’t feeling up to it. Besides, I happen to know she has an appointment with the dressmaker tomorrow. She would not miss that for anything. There’s also the misgivings of her parents. They are not happy about their daughter spending time with a mere soldier. The son of a tradesman. But what of it? I enjoy Lady Elizabeth’s company, and she enjoys mine.”
The butler nodded. “I see, Sir. Will there be anything else, Lieutenant?”
“That will be all, Blackmore, thank you.” Richard took another look at himself in the full size looking glass. He looked like any other fop. But he had to go to Almack’s to pave the way for his brother, George, who was moving his family to London in the autumn.
Feeling that he looked sufficiently bourgeoisie, Richard walked across the ornate soft rug to the simple wooden door that led from his bedchamber to the third floor hallway.
His father and brother had given him the house on Jermyn Street even though George was in the process of moving his and Ellen’s life together to London. But it was a nicer, more genteel neighbourhood than this that George was looking for. He was in the market for something in the area of Wimpole Street.
Mayfair was just too expensive, but purchasing a modest townhouse close to their parents’ new home near Westminster in Marylebone was possible. Richard, on the other hand, had shown interest in the family’s first home, here on Jermyn Street, and now it was his.
The idea that fine neighbourhoods seemed to change as quickly as men’s fortunes needled at Richard’s brain as he made his way down to the street level and the back area that led out to the mews beyond. Who knew but that Jermyn Street might be a destination for the haut ton one day. If not to reside then, certainly, to find something else they might be in need of. There were already shops on the Street. Maybe this would turn into a fine shopping district some day. Who knew?
Richard cut through a door in the wall that surrounded the garden just behind the white stuccoed townhouse. He bypassed the crocuses and daffodils and walked straight back to the mews.
Kirby, the groom, had stayed on at the house after Richard’s parents had relocated.
“Good evening, Lieutenant. Let’s see now. This is Wednesday. That would be Almack’s tonight, wouldn’t it, Sir?”
“Yes, Kirby. That’s correct.”
“Very good, Sir.” Kirby opened the door of the small carriage, and in a moment, Richard was seated and ready to go.
They passed around the side of the house. As they moved into the street Richard looked down to his right, towards Mimi’s house. But for two dim lights behind the sheer curtains in the upstairs parlour, the house was dark. Richard wondered why Mimi hadn’t sent for him. He’d been worried about her. He didn’t know if she was well or if she still languished from fever.
As he leaned forward and craned his neck for a better view of the building, one of the lights was blotted out for a few seconds then shone again. For some reason, Richard pulled back against the bench of the coach and Kirby pulled the vehicle out onto the street and headed in the opposite direction. They drove towards the Assembly Rooms on King Street in St James’s Square.
*******
“Lieutenant Richard Warren,” Richard was announced then made his way through the line to greet the patronesses of the ball. The great Almack’s patronesses who could almost single-handedly make or break a young lady’s chances of finding a quality match. Or a man’s for that matter.
Richard realised that having served his country had changed his social life a great deal. He was now a gentleman. And he was in the elite company of some the daughters of the pillars of the haut ton. He was aware that the formidable lady patronesses would be sure to keep the richest of the rich young ladies away from him. Even as they oohed and aahed over how handsome he was in his dress uniform of red and white, they would shoo most of the young ladies towards better, wealthier prospects.
Richard entered the room looking this way and that for a familiar face, and not surprisingly, he saw not one. He knew Mimi was still ill or recuperating and wouldn’t be in attendance. He stood near the fireplace and the master of ceremonies. It was necessary for him to be presented to the young women hovering around waiting for a dance before he could ask them to take a turn around the floor.
He gazed into the flames while the gentlemen ahead of him were presented. He was thinking of nothing in particular until some voices reached his ear.
To each side of the large fireplace there were alcoves sheltered behind huge potted plants. There were richly upholstered sofas and chairs in the alcoves for the young ladies to rest between dances and sip their lemonade or ratafia.
“Well, she’s chased him from country to country as surely as Wellington did with Bonaparte.”
“It’s positively declasse. Am I unpatriotic to speak French?” The voices both giggled and another continued, “I heard she was a seamstress or her mother was. Can you imagine? And the father. A smith.”
“Well I heard the grandfather was a butcher.”
“No!”
“Yes, it’s true. They live on Jermyn Street after all.”
“Quite a step up from a butcher’s residence, I dare say.”
Richard realised the women were gossiping about Mimi and Marie. He
tilted his head and continued his eavesdropping.
“They are poor. Very. All this going to Paris then coming back, and you know they have only three or four servants. Still, the mother has airs and tries to make it look as if they have more than they do.”
“Lady Stevens told me that the mother somehow persuaded Mrs Limonseaux, the dressmaker to extend credit. She’s the finest dressmaker in London. Apparently, Marie Hancock has been promising the woman that Duke Hertford will pay up. Her daughter has a new frock for every social gathering the young lady attends.”
“Where, pray tell, would that be? I haven’t seen her anywhere.”
“She’s been ill. The influenza. Apparently it was touch and go for a bit. I heard my kitchen staff talking about it. She hasn’t been to any balls since the season began three weeks ago. She took sick at the season opening.”
“That’s funny considering the Duke has been seen everywhere. Alone, mind you, but certainly not appearing worried about anything. Is he courting the girl?”
“No one knows. My brother is acquainted with His Grace from White’s. The Duke has not acquired a special lady friend to his knowledge.”
“Does the mother have the Duke thinking they are more than middle class?”
“With that address? I think not. No, he would never believe it.”
“Well, Lizzie Stevens said it looks like the Duke might actually be enamoured of the young miss.”
At the mention of Lizzie’s name again, Richard listened harder to the two women behind the leaves of the plants.
“Impossible. I’ve heard it from Lady Stone that the Duke will marry the Princess Charlotte. That’s how highly the Prince Regent thinks of him.
“You’re right. Hertford’s family would never allow him to marry a mere commoner. A commoner of the trade class.”
“Why does he bother with her? Do you think she’s, you know, do you think she might already be his mistress?”
“I have no feeling for Miss Hancock, good or bad, but if she is the Duke’s mistress, she has ruined herself. First of all, he will never marry her if that is the case. She could make a good alliance with someone who’s made their money from trade. Or someone who’d made their way to being a gentleman by becoming a soldier. But if she has become the mistress, she has no future at all. With anyone. She’ll die an old spinster in that house on Jermyn Street.”
“You are right, Lady Bennington. You are absolutely right. She is not connected. And she’s half French. If the Duke were to drop her, I shudder to think what would happen to her. She’d never be able to hold her head up in good society again. I daresay even that soldier who’s been seen with Lady Stevens would have her. And I heard it said that, apparently they know one another from childhood or something like that. The families were close at one time.”
Richard smirked. They were gossiping about him. And his connection to Mimi. Their families had indeed been close until Marie decided she wanted her daughter to marry into the peerage. Then his own mother had decided she needed to move out of the middle class.
“And what of it? Why is Lady Stevens entertaining the young man at all?”
“Her beau was killed in Spain, you know.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes. She’s still mourning. She can’t possibly be taking the young man seriously. Again, we have a situation, although it’s him this time, where one of the people involved just isn’t from, well you know. You and I ... our families are the ton. Born into it. People like Mimi Hancock and Richard Warren, while they’re perfectly nice, they just aren’t like us. And it shows, darling, it shows.”
Richard stepped away. The master of ceremonies put his hand on his arm. “Lieutenant. It’s your turn to be presented to the young ladies.”
“Uh, thank you, but I must be going, Sir. I … I suddenly don’t feel very well.”
“May I get you a hackney, Sir?”
“No, thank you, I just need some air. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Very good, Sir.”
Richard made his way from the room and hurried towards the front door of the building. It was just after eleven, and the front doors were already locked against latecomers. He approached one of the doormen.
“Uh, hello. I’d like to go outside.”
“Yes, Sir.” The doorman gestured to a boy all decked out in fine knee britches, jacket, and powdered wig. “Take the gentleman to the side door, John.”
“Very good. Right this way, Lieutenant.” The boy stepped forward gesturing Richard to follow him. In a moment, Richard was on the side street of the Assembly Rooms. He’d sent Kirby back to Jermyn Street earlier. Instead of getting a cab, he decided to walk a little to clear his head.
*******
Marie went back upstairs and into Mimi’s bedchamber. She dismissed Giselle then leaned against the closed door, a dreamy smile lighting up her countenance.
“The Duke came to check on you. Oh, to think. With all this influenza going around, he came to see you to see how you are. Oh, I think a marriage proposal is on the horizon.”
“Now, Maman, don’t get carried away. Apparently, it was Hertford who I was dancing with when I fainted. Or whatever happened. It’s still a blur to me.”
“But he is a Duke, mon ange. He took time out to come and see you.”
“Yes, yes. I’m quite tired, Maman. I think I should like to sleep.”
“Oh, of course, dear. You do need your rest.” Marie walked over to the bed and kissed her daughter on the forehead. Bonne nuit, mon ange.”
“Bonne nuit, Maman.”
Marie left the room, and Mimi snuggled down under the bed clothes. The Duke was charming. There was no doubt about it. But Marie put so much pressure on her. She had told Mimi that if all she could get from the Duke was to be his mistress, then she should take it. Her own mother would allow her to sink so low in order to have any kind of connection with the ton.
Mimi knew very little about the world of men and their mistresses. But she did know that the Paris of Marie’s younger days was not at all like the London of today. Mistresses were not looked up to in England. Being one, however, could move one up in society to a degree. And for a little while.
Yes, there had been some mistresses of the gentlemen of the ton who had, eventually, made advantageous marriages for themselves. But they were never accepted into high society. Not really. Unless that was the world they’d already existed in before taking up with a man who was married or looking for a wife. And even then they were somewhat shunned by the other ladies.
No. If Mimi was to be with Duke Hertford, it would be as his wife. She would settle for no less. But she was so confused. She was intrigued by Hertford; sometimes she thought she might have genuine feelings for him. But she needed to find out if Richard still loved her. She’d asked for him, over and over, when she’d been deep in the throes of the fever that had racked her body.
And he never came. Did that mean he didn’t love her? She must get word to him as soon as she could. She needed to know his feelings. She felt she couldn’t be clear about her feelings for Hertford unless she knew what Richard felt towards her.
She’d been in this bed for three weeks, and she still felt weak. The doctor had told her that she needed as much rest as possible even if that meant missing the London season. He’d also said she must go to the seaside as soon as it was warm enough. She needed, he’d said, the bracing salt air to call up her health again.
Of course, Marie had argued about the last instruction from the doctor. Couldn’t her daughter get well right here, in London? Mimi knew her mother didn’t want her too far away from the Duke. The thought made Mimi angry. Her mother would insist on keeping her in London amidst the coal smoked air instead of taking her to the sea where the air was fresh and clean.
Initially, Marie had wanted a gentleman for her daughter. All mothers wanted that for their girls. A happy, comfortable marriage that offered lifelong security, and if the girl was lucky, maybe even love.
But, Marie had gone overboard. She’d set her sights on the top of the heap. Duke Hertford. The only eligible Duke under the age of sixty. He was handsome, charming, and well spoken. He was everything that Marie admired in a man.
And all that needed to be done was to secure a marriage proposal from him.
Mimi sighed and turned over on her side. When had her life become so complicated?
Chapter 14
Richard found himself strolling along the streets of Mayfair not heading anywhere in particular. He would most likely, eventually, find himself at Brooks’s which was fine with him.
His thoughts had turned to Mimi, which wasn’t anything new. He felt horrible about the things he’d heard said about her. And about her mother, despite his lingering dislike of Marie.
The Lost Love of a Stunning Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 16