Mending the Duke's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Ella smiled all the more pliantly. She expected if Lady Pamala was there, she would have scolded Ella for being more akin to the ladies who pleasantly spoke the sharp words, but she couldn’t help putting this woman in her place.

  “That is unfortunate,” Ella continued, folding her gloved hands in front of her. “I hope I will have the opportunity to introduce you in the future as you will find him a very amiable man.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs Henson tittered.

  Neither one needed to mention that the likelihood of Mrs Hanson finding herself in the same circle as the Duke of Winthrope was nearly impossible. Having been put firmly in her place, Mrs Hanson spoke her goodbye and quickly left the shop.

  “What did you say to Mrs Hanson now, Ella?” her mother’s exasperated voice called from just behind her. “She is one of our oldest clients, you know. It won’t do to have you tellin’ them all off.”

  “I think we could do without clients like her from here on out,” Ella responded.

  Mrs Ward gave her usual grunt of disapproval. She looked Ella up and down with a sceptical dark brow.

  “Well, you look different. Is this new?”

  “It’s just something I put together quickly from some extra fabric Lady Pamala had lying around,” Ella lied as she tried to downplay the new walking dress.

  In truth, the day after Lady Pamala had asked Ella to be her companion for the whole Season, they had gone straight out bought several yards of fabric in various styles and textures, as well as enough underthings and silk stockings to fill a chest.

  Outside the green evening gown she was to wear tonight, they had also quickly created this walking dress and a white morning dress for Ella’s use. Ella had thought it would be more than enough, but Lady Pamala had insisted it would only do to get her through the next few weeks, as long as she continued to borrow some of Lady Pamala’s other gowns, and then they would be out to shop in earnest.

  “What brings you by then?” Mrs Ward asked, her eyes already flitting around the busy shop for the next task to do.

  “I wanted to check on you, Ma,” Ella responded softly. “You haven’t been writing me back. I was worried.”

  “Just been busy, is all,” Mrs Ward explained.

  “I can see that.” Ella’s eyes looked around yet again in wonderment at how much had changed since she left. “I thought perhaps we could catch up for a moment if you have the time?”

  She was half expecting to hear her mother scold her. Tell her that unlike Ella, she didn’t have all day to waste in drawing rooms chatting other ladies up. She could almost see the words building behind her mother’s blue eyes that matched her own. But just as soon as the accusations built, they melted away.

  “‘Course, dearie,” she said with the soft endearment. “Come along to the back. I’ll be needing to check on the girls anyway.”

  Ella followed her mother through the shop, past the counter, and behind the curtain.

  “Girls?” she asked as they walked.

  “I’ve hired four more in all besides Rose since you were last here. Even still we are pressed for time to get it all done,” Mrs Ward explained.

  As they passed through the curtain, three girls looked up from their work around the small wooden table that Ella remembered spending many hours working at. Along with the added seating for the extra seamstresses, there was also a new oil lamp that sat on the table to give better light to the girls' work.

  At the sight of the intrusion, all three girls popped up from their seats out of respect. Like the ones out front, these girls were all dressed in black cotton uniforms with white aprons. She noticed that while the newer two were working hard on sewing, Rose had been working on a piece of lace.

  “This is my daughter,” Mrs Ward began to give out introductions. “We are just going to have us a bit of a visit. Why don’t you two help Betsy and Lizzy up front.” Mrs Ward motioned to the two girls. “Rose, you just keep to your work, dearie. I know Lady Bellum needs that finished right quick.”

  Rose gave Ella a kind smile in greeting and returned to her work. Mrs Ward put the work that the other two girls had set on the table over on her bed. For the most part, the back room was just as quaint and humble as she remembered it.

  Ella walked over to get the things ready for tea so that her mother could sit and rest her feet for a bit. Even as she sat, however, she could hear her mother giving tips and pointers to Rose, who took it gratefully.

  “That is looking very fine, Rose,” Ella complimented as she set down three teacups in front of them.

  She wasn’t sure the protocol in the situation, but she expected if Lady Pamala was there, she would have ensured all parties had a fresh cup even if she was working. It was a strange thing to think of her lessons in proper ladylike behaviour in this setting. Despite the transition being so sudden, it almost seemed like she couldn’t help but think of how she was supposed to act.

  “Mrs Ward is a right fine teacher. Mrs Vaughan would be shocked if she could see my skills now. Not that I am ever plannin’ on leavin’ to go back to that damp cramped shop,” Rose quickly amended after bringing up her old employer.

  “You just needed a good teacher,” Mrs Ward encouraged. “You had the skills all along. You just needed someone to teach you the right way to use them.”

  Ella smiled as she watched the two interact. She knew how much her mother enjoyed teaching others. Mrs Ward was so good at it too. It was one thing to have a talent in a trade, but it was utterly different to also have the ability to translate that talent to others. Mrs Ward had been blessed with both abilities as well as a kind heart always willing to help others.

  “You know both those other girls were poor sewers as well. Mrs Ward here took them on anyways on account that their Pa had just passed and their Ma had seven mouths to feed. The poor lady was near about to send her kids to the workhouses just so she could give ‘em a roof and a bit o’ food. They are still together thanks to your Ma,” Rose explained.

  “Well, others were being more than generous to me, I expect it was only right to help out those who really need it,” Mrs Ward tried to explain off her generosity heart.

  “I’m glad that so much good has come of this arrangement,” Ella stated. “I was worried when you didn’t write that this was too much of a hardship on you.”

  Mrs Ward became quiet as she thought of her next response. Ella supposed she didn’t feel free to speak with Rose still in the room. After all, this was one of her employees, and it wouldn’t be right to have a private matter discussed in front of her.

  “I suppose it has afforded more opportunities to take on more work and in that respect, it is a good thing,” Mrs Ward said finally.

  “And you don’t have to stitch at all anymore, Mrs Ward. Me and the other girls have been taking on all the work. Mrs Ward has been just working the counter and overseeing,” Rose turned to explain to Ella.

  “I’m glad to hear it. You deserve a break, Ma,” Ella spoke, hoping to encourage more discussion of the current positive outcomes of their situation.

  “Yes, well, I do think it might give certain people the wrong idea about what the future may hold,” Mrs Ward said delicately.

  Ella knew instantly what her mother meant, but chose to pretend she didn’t.

  “I think we can expect much of the same for our future. Sure, some of the clientele may slow during the colder months, and I am sure that over time Mr Brummel’s praise will even fade, but people come back because they know the work is of the highest quality. That won’t change over time.

  “I also have several more designs in mind to send while I am away for the time being. That way, the ladies won’t get too tired with the same patterns.”

  “Oh, that would be just perfect. Just the other day I heard a lady saying how she refused to order a design, despite her friend's insistence on gettin’ it, all ‘cause she saw it on two other ladies last week,” Rose chimed in.

  “And who will be performing the more diffic
ult stitches that often accompany your fine evening designs?” Mrs Ward asked.

  “I’m sure I could do it, Mrs Ward. Maybe not perfect at first, but I’ve been practising that embroidery you already showed me at home at night. I’m sure I could make do till Miss Ward here returns to us,” Rose continued attempting to be helpful.

  Ella appreciated the support although she was painfully aware that she was no longer Ella, but Miss Ward to the girl of the same age and similar upbringing.

  “Ella should just return to us now,” Mrs Ward said firmly. “We don’t need the extra coins from the Duke, and you don’t need to be filling your head with all that fluff,” she finished, motioning up and down Ella’s frame.

  “I think she looks right pretty,” Rose said softly.

  “Thank you, Rose,” Ella replied, just as soft. “I’m not filling my head with fluff, Ma. I know who I am, and I know my place. All of this,” she motioned to herself in the same manner as her mother, “is required where I am. It will all be for the betterment of our store, though, and nothing more. Think of the connections I will make alone at the ball tonight.”

  “A ball!” Rose squealed. “Is it the Dowager Duchess’s ball that you mean? Are you sayin’ you’re invited to that ball tonight? I have heard so much about it from all the fine ladies coming in and out. How wonderful! You’re a right Cinderella, you are!”

  Mrs Ward didn’t look as enthusiastic as Rose. Instead, she pursed her thin lips even thinner and nearly chipped the china setting it back down on the table.

  “You have no place going to such a thing. I’m not trying to be cruel, Ella, but someone should say it. You’ll only make a fool of yourself.”

  Rose became suddenly silent, perhaps realizing for the first time this was not the happy chat she had considered it to be. Turning to her work, she concentrated hard on weaving and knotting the lace into its intricate pattern.

  “I won’t make a fool of myself, Ma. I know what I am to do. Lady Pamala has shown me much in the time I’ve spent with her.”

  “Clearly, you’re even talkin’ like you think you’re a lady,” Mrs Ward scoffed back. “I’ve told you time and time again, there is no changin’ one’s stars. You are who you are, and the sooner you accept that—”

  “I know who I am!” Ella shouted.

  Both of her companions leaned back in their seats, staring at her wide-eyed. She didn’t mean to burst out so loudly, but perhaps it just had been seething below the surface for far too long. She cleared her throat and tried to compose herself a little better.

  Standing, she put on her gloves while the other two still stared at her, frozen.

  “I know who I am, Ma,” she said, this time much softer, as she hurried to put on her gloves. “And I know who I am not. I am not so dull to think I am part of their world, or meant to stay in it forever. However, I am wise enough to snatch a good opportunity when it is presented to me.

  I do this for both of us for this shop. I hope one day you will be able to see that. Rose, I will make sure to send on some more designs by Monday. I should have at the very least a few ball gowns and a walking dress or two. I should probably be off now.”

  “Yes, wouldn’t want to keep your maid waiting too long for you,” Mrs Ward said with distinct disdain.

  Their eyes didn’t seem to meet each other again. Instead, Ella simply resigned herself to the fact that her mother would never see eye to eye with her on this matter despite how well it had already seemed to benefit both of them.

  Instead, she said her goodbye, promising to write again soon and to visit as often as she could. Mrs Ward made no mention that she cared if her daughter chose to visit again. Ella did her best to keep the tears of hurt and anger from spilling out as she moved to the front of the shop, collected Josie, and moved swiftly to the front door.

  Chapter 19

  The Duke of Winthrope spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening leading up to the ball entirely baffled by what had caused him to nearly kiss Miss Ward in his office that morning.

  He would have liked to surmise that he had been overcome by momentary madness. That it simply was a result of him attempting to dust off that old charm he had placed on a shelf all those years ago and having gotten carried away himself at the moment.

  He didn’t believe it even as he thought it, however. Ever since that morning, watching Ella Ward turn and twirl barefoot in the ballroom, and then her strong defiance against one who would shame her, the Duke was unable to shake a deep admiration for the miss.

  He did his best to be attentive to his sister and mother all afternoon and to be pleasant and sociable as they spoke with others in court. Still, his mind always seems to go back to Miss Ward. He wondered how she was doing if she was getting on well with her mother back at the dress shop.

  He also wondered why he had felt such a strong desire to touch her, to get so close to her, to almost kiss her. He would have kissed her if that maid hadn’t interrupted. He should have been released for the interruption, but instead, he found it frustrating.

  Never did he consider he would ever again feel those muddled feelings that had tricked him as a young gentleman, but suddenly his mind was swimming with them, and it was frustrating. He would have liked to blame Lord Melvin for it.

  After all, it was his friend who had suggested he take the bitter drink and just find a lady to marry. It was by his mention that he endeavoured to soften the sour exterior that had protected him all these years. And it was that blasted man who had suggested he practice letting down that wall to Miss Ward first.

  Of course, he doubted Lord Melvin would have ever guessed that the Duke might start to feel something for the lady, though he wondered how he hadn’t. He certainly knew Miss Ward better than the Duke did. How often had Lord Melvin come over and spent time with both Lady Pamala and Miss Ward while he had been absent in the country? Surely, he must have spent significant time with the two if their ease and familiarity with each other was any indication.

  Of course, Lord Melvin had to know what a wonderful person Miss Ward was. How could one not admire her sensitive nature towards animals, her determined spirit towards those who would try to bring her down, or her extensive creative abilities that gave her the means to survive on her own?

  The Duke didn’t seem to have an end to the admiration he felt for the miss, despite the fact he knew he shouldn’t. If there was one woman in the world that he shouldn’t desire, it was most certainly Ella Ward.

  He couldn’t even imagine what his mother would think if she was to learn that he just nearly kissed her. Nor what she would think if he could hear the workings of his mind, and heart, all day long.

  Of course, there were plenty of lords who would kiss a lesser woman and yet still marry the proper lady that was expected of them. The Duke was not such a man. If there had been no interruption, and he had compromised her reputation, there would have been no question in his mind. They would have had a swift marriage.

  He knew such a marriage was not at all what his family needed right now. His sister, for one thing, would struggle to find her own match if he had a quick and very controversial marriage to a London seamstress with no family to speak of.

  His mother would be sure to swoon in a fit of disgrace. If she had removed herself from the house simply because Lady Pamala was insisting on making her own gown, how would she act if she learned that her son was now in love with a woman much more inferior in birth?

  What would the rest of the Tories think, for that matter? Their entire political stance was based on the philosophy that everyone had a place, and society only worked smoothly when each cog in the machine did their job efficiently.

  How would it look when he—a prominent figure in the party—engaged in a relationship with a woman of her birth?