“My departed husband never managed to be bothered much with the finances. So I handled a large portion of the dealings with our steward.” She cleared her throat. “And you might not be looking for anything from me at all, but I do believe the surest way to get them off your hands would be to enlist the help of these illustrious visitors and get them all married off.”
“A capitol idea.” Though Gerald had not given it sufficient attention, he was glad of a direction to spend his energy. “Perhaps I shall pen a letter this very afternoon.”
Lady Rochester nodded. “I would recommend such a thing.”
“You seem to have quite a knack for running estates and a sense of how to solve problems.”
She dipped her head. “I do have experience. That I will admit to.”
Gerald stood, suddenly refreshed and wishing to get to know this woman better, particularly as she seemed to have a affinity for handling matters of the estate, matters that troubled him. “Might I entertain you with a walk in our gardens?”
She joined him, obviously pleased. “I would like nothing better.” She placed a hand on his arm and the two of them made their way out the door.
“Your thoughts on the ladies of this cottage are thoughtful and caring and would allow me a great deal of peace of mind concerning the whole situation. But if they’ve no dowries?”
“I am unsure what you pay for their upkeep already, but with women so well connected, it cannot be too difficult to marry them, dowry or no. As to their looks, I cannot attest, but if any of them is a great beauty it will be all the easier.”
Interesting, the way she spoke. They continued talking, mostly of matters of the estate. He ran some ideas for the tenants by her, and in every regard, her ideas were sound and her manner pleasing.
He wanted to bring up the matter of his heir. But he found difficulty thinking or talking of him, and he had no idea how to bring up the subject with this stranger. Nor did he wish to, if he were being honest. But he had to know something about her own affinity for children.
She became quiet for a moment and then she spoke in a subdued tone. “Archibald and I were not in love. We had very few intimate encounters of any kind. But we got on well enough.” Her fingers pressed into his arm, and he wondered if they should stop walking so he could support her better.
“I’m well enough with all that he left me.” She stopped. “But I haven’t a child to love.” Her eyes widened, and she looked up into his face, “and I long for one.”
8
Amelia went about her day as she always had. She prepared the tea in the morning. She steeped the different brews, especially the favorites among their guests. She baked the biscuits and the scones and purchased the sandwiches. They had a cook come in two days a week to assist. But Amelia chose to make some of the items herself. Unfortunately, nothing that usually brought Amelia great satisfaction could rid her of a new, festering itch of dissatisfaction. The feeling that a part of her did not belong in this life would not go away. And it was ruining her contentment. She tried not to admit that a certain Duke’s smile was equally disconcerting and disruptive.
A new group of chattering ladies of the ton stepped into her shop to the tinkling of a bell on the door. Amelia curtseyed to them and led them to a table. “What kind of tea shall I bring you this morning?”
The woman who was obviously the leader, who looked to be a year or two younger than Amelia, waved her hand. “Just tea will do.”
“Would you like to try our new blend with a hint of tarragon?”
The others eyed their leader warily.
“No, we would like a tea tray, some biscuits, a sandwich, that’s all. And if that’s too difficult to manage, we’ll go elsewhere. You know we do have tea in our own houses.”
Amelia’s heart clenched. She couldn’t afford to be upsetting these women. And their snobbery pounded home the large gulf between she and them in class and wealth.
“Well now, tea in your houses would rob you of the charm of taking tea on Grosvenor’s Square with your friends.” Lord Morley stood at Amelia’s side, and she wanted to throw her arms around him. As she could never do such a thing, she tried to blink back her tears of relief. Why was she letting the attitudes and snobbery of the ladies of the ton disturb her peace?
She curtseyed to Lord Morley. “Welcome. Will you be joining our other guests?”
“No, I came with news.”
She searched his face and couldn’t tell if it were the good or bad sort of news. “I’ll be right back then.” She curtseyed. Then, ignoring the curious stares from every woman at the table, she hurried to the back to gather the items for their tray. When she returned, he sat at a table apart from the ladies, reading the papers and the flyers that she offered as reading material. He stood to offer to help her but she smiled and shook her head. She hurried to the ladies. “Here you go. Would you like me to pour?”
“No. Thank you.”
She nodded and then, wiping her hands down her apron, she hurried to Lord Morley.
He indicated she sit with him. “Do you have a moment?”
“I do. It’s quiet in here today.” She sat and then waited.
He studied her. “I don’t know why I feel you need to continue to be involved in our lives, but I thought you’d want to know, deserved to know after all your effort on the duke’s behalf, that his grace has decided to marry after all, and in fact proposed last night.”
The breath left her in a rush. She gripped the edge of the chair where she sat and tried to remember how to breathe in.
“Are you well?”
She couldn’t answer. Never had she even swooned, or fainted, and now would she do so in front of those ladies? In front of the duke’s best friend? She fought the tightness and gasped in a painful swallow of air. Then she nodded. “I’m not certain what’s wrong with me. But I will say I’m disappointed.”
“I as well. But it cannot be helped. I’ve done my best as a best friend might, and now I will have to perhaps step in if interference is needed.”
“I suppose you will. You’re a good friend to him.”
“And he to me.” Lord Morley studied her a moment more. “I’m not sure what he was thinking, coming here, but I did want to thank you for whatever you said to him, for the calm you brought him.”
She felt her face heat. “I was happy to help. Good thing I hadn’t closed up shop yet for the day.”
Lord Morley pulled a parcel from his pocket. “The duchess wanted me to deliver this for you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “The duchess knows who I am?”
“Well, certainly. If a shopkeeper shows up at the front door of the townhome to pay a visit to the duke, his mother is going to hear about it.”
“That sounds very brazen of me.” She reached for the outstretched parcel. “Thank you.”
“I thought it brave, not brazen, and caring. You’re a woman of great heart.”
“Thank you.” She tucked the package into her skirts, feeling the eyes of the ladies on her. “I should attend to some business here in the shop.”
“Thank you for taking a moment.” He adjusted his waistcoat. “If he should come by again…”
She returned to her seat. “Yes?”
“The duchess wishes that you and I would try to encourage him in marrying again instead of the opposite.”
Amazed at the notice from one so highly elevated, Amelia scoffed. “And she thinks I have influence?”
“She knows you do.”
Puzzled, deeply affected, Amelia didn’t know what to say. Then she wondered, “And what is your response to her grace’s request?”
He grinned. “I told her I’d take it under consideration.”
Amelia laughed. Then sobered. “But I could never say such a thing to her grace.”
“No, it wouldn’t be advisable.”
She nodded then stood. “Thank you, for delivering the package. And the news. It is good to see you again.”
He dipped his head
. “And to see you.”
Lord Morley made his way out of the store, nodding to the ladies at the other table as he did so.
Amelia hurried her package into the back before preparing tea service trays for the new guests. She worked through the rest of her day, uncertain even what to think. Then, when all was dark, and she closed up shop, she went in search of her father.
“Come in.” Her father had sat by his window most of the day. “Are you expecting any late night visitors again this evening?”
She sucked in a breath. “Do you know about that?”
“Certainly. A man should know when his daughter is entertaining the duke of Granbury.”
“It’s not what you think, of course. His wife just passed and he came seeking comfort I believe.”
“And then a visit from the Earl of Hampton?”
“Is that who he is? The Duke’s best friend you mean?”
“The gentleman today. Yes. He’s one of the most influential men in the house of lords of late.”
She nodded. “I’m happy to hear it, for he’s a good friend to the duke. He seems like a good man.”
“And what have they to do with you?”
“I’d like to know the answer to that question, with them so elevated and us so highly outside their sphere.”
“Well, now, perhaps it’s time I told you the story of your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. She belonged with people like those that are visiting you.”
“What!” A rush of memories of her mother invaded her mind. French lessons, how to perform a curtsey, the correct manners of address…She had always made sure Amelia was taught and educated and even that she had a basic understanding of dancing and the most common Quadrilles, country dance combinations, and steps. “How can that be?”
Her father stood. “Come.”
She followed him into the back room, the room their mother used for her hobbies, her drawing, her needlepoint, and where she kept many of her things. Amelia and her father had left the room much the same, each enjoying it as a piece of the woman they missed and loved. Amelia loved to go through her nice things. She had a box of jewelry. She had trunks of old dresses, ball gowns. She knew that her mother had come from a wealthy family, she’d always assumed in trade, but she’d been told they no longer had any desire to be a part of her life when she’d married Amelia’s father.
Her father led her to the closet, and pulled out a box. In it was a small likeness, a painting of a noble woman, of her mother.
“Your mother.”
“She’s lovely.”
“At her coming out ball.”
Amelia puckered her mouth in confusion. “She had a … coming out ball?”
“She did. And she was pursued by many a gentleman. But that’s when she started making visits to my father’s bakery.”
“And to you?”
He nodded, a twinkle lighting his face. “We stole every moment we could. So in love we were, we begged our parents to approve, but neither could condone what they thought would be a life of unhappiness for the both of us. Her family opposed most of all.”
“But why? Was the bakery not a respectable establishment?”
“Oh, it was. Every member of the ton came for my father’s tarts, his cakes, his breads. Even the big estate homes would make orders for their balls, dinners, parties.”
“Then what was the problem?”
“Your mother was the daughter of a Baron.”
“What? A member of the peerage?”
“Yes, and they knew that by lowering herself, she’d come against criticism and shunning.”
“But she wanted to marry anyway?”
“She did.” He sat up proudly. “We both did. So we told everyone what we were about and then we rode a carriage up to Scotland, married across the anvil.”
Amelia sat back in amazement. “And her family wanted nothing more to do with us?”
“They thought they would protect us. It was better for us to be forgotten for a time, I thought, perhaps forever. The bakery failed. The family moved away. We stayed quiet for many years, letting the gossip die down. And then we thought to start up a new tea shop in our old bakery space, with no one knowing we were the same that had caused such a scandal.”
“So, my grandfather is a Baron. A...lord?”
“They call him Lord Smithson.”
She sat on her mother’s bed. “I cannot believe it.”
Her father’s presence beside her made her smile.
“She raised you to be one of them. All those things you can do, the greetings, the curtseys the rules, your drawing, your language, all of it.”
“But…”
Her father pulled a letter out of his pocket. “And this arrived today.”
“What is it?” She noticed a seal in deep blue wax.
“It’s addressed to you. From your grandfather.”
She reached for the outstretched letter and weighed it in her fingers. “What does he want?”
“Well, I don’t know as you’ve not read it yet.”
“Should I read it?” Her hands trembled so she rested them and the letter in her lap.
“I’ll leave that up to you. They’ve been writing your mother all this time. They are good people. But they didn’t come when you were born, didn’t come to your christening and haven’t even stepped foot inside the shop. So you decide if they deserve your attention. I’ve forgiven them years ago, but that’s up to you to decide if you’ll do the same.”
She had nothing to hold against them. She’d led the happiest of lives, born to parents who doted on her, gifted a tea shop to run and one day own. She didn’t think anything a Baron could offer her would have been any more enjoyable or content. But as her fingers pushed through the wax and broke the seal, she couldn’t help but think again of the Duke. She had no offers of marriage in her life, no possible courtships, and no opportunities to rise above her station in any way. That familiar tickle of the last few days festered again inside.
She lifted the parchment and unfolded her letter.
It was written in an elegant hand, the letters slanting and sweeping across the page.
“My dearest Amelia Dickson,
If I might call you dearest.
I’m writing with the greatest desire for you to come to me, dine with your grandmother and I so that we might become better acquainted.”
It was signed by her grandfather.
“They want me to dine with them.”
“Excellent.”
“But not you?”
“I don’t suppose I will ever be invited to their home, on principle.”
Irritation surged up inside. “Then I shan’t go either.”
“That’s your mother in ye. She’d never go. If I wasn’t welcome, then she wasn’t going. But I think you might reconsider this stance.”
Amelia was unaccountably proud of her mother and had no inclination to do any different.
“Consider that they’re your family too. They have their reasons. The peerage are trapped into a way of being and thinking that makes them unable to entertain me as a part of their family. The only way they saved themselves from the scandal of our elopement was by shutting us off.”
“Why would I ever want to ensnare myself in such a society?”
“Because they’re lovely people, who will love you. You have a whole side of the family over there, and what’s more, people to care for you.”
Her father seemed weak all of a sudden and Amelia recognized the throws of age wrapped themselves around him.
“When I’m no longer here, it’ll bring me peace knowing that you have others who care for you.”
She studied her father and she could see what a burden would be lifted if she did indeed begin a new sort of relationship with the Smithsons. So she nodded. “Then I’ll go.”
Her father patted her hand. “That’s a good choice, Amelia.” He stood, his legs shaking a bit from the effort. “And now I’ll be
heading my way into bed for the evening.”
“Get rest father. And thank you.”
“Oh, and best to answer that letter. I’ll have it delivered tomorrow.”
“Thank you, I will.”
She pulled out a quill, ink well, and paper. Now, what to say to the family who wouldn’t acknowledge her for all these years?
After puzzling for too long, she simply thanked them for the invitation, and said she would be ready for their carriage tomorrow. Done.
9
Gerald’s mind turned unaccountably to Miss Amelia Dickson too many times. His fiancé would arrive any moment. And he’d not told Miss Amelia that he ignored her advice. Perhaps he felt he owed her an explanation. But the notion was ridiculous. How and when did he as a duke owe a tea shop keeper any explanation for anything?
Lady Rochester stepped into the room. “Are we to meet young Richard Gerald?”
Gerald clenched his fists behind his back. But he was determined not to be nervous, or emotional about this. If he could introduce his soon to be duchess to his heir, then the two of them could get along fittingly, and he could be on his way. “We are. The nurse will bring him down in a moment.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear it. I cannot function as his—” She stopped what she was about to say, her eyes growing wider before she corrected, “As the duchess, without knowing him properly.” She wrung her hands. “You do think he will like me, don’t you?”
“I don’t know why not. He’s but a small thing still. Might not even know how to like a person.”
“But babies can tell. And if they don’t like a person, most everyone else won’t trust them either. Oh, my, oh dear. Perhaps we should meet him another day when I’m not so stressed?”
“If you would like, but I do think you shall be just fine. And we won’t hold it against you if the infant isn’t quite sure of you yet.”
She patted his arm and he tried not to flinch.
“To be honest, I haven’t met him yet either, not really.”
The aghast expression she gave him should have been his first warning as to what kind of woman he was welcoming into his life.
“You haven’t met him? The tiny child who looks to you as his father?”
The Duke's Second Chance: Clean Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 1) Page 5