“With enough coin, the dress shall be done well before the ball.”
“Yes, and some poor soul shall find it necessary to strain her eyes in the candlelight to finish such a garment,” she grumbled.
He shrugged. “It’s a shame, but there it ‘tis. It’s imperative to hold the ball as soon as possible. Besides, Charles has sent the invitations.” He rubbed his temple. “I made a grave error by waiting once before, with disastrous consequences. I delayed in questioning Joliet Savoy about selling Perry’s belongings when I should have acted. I shan’t make that mistake again. The ball shall proceed as scheduled.”
She heard the regret in his voice. “Why did you wait?”
“One can always see further in hindsight.” He gathered her fingers in his and tugged her closer while gazing into her eyes. In a slow, sleepy voice he said, “I love you, my dear, and I wanted you safe.”
“Royce.” Her pulse drummed so loudly in her ears, she doubted she’d heard aright. Her breath caught in her throat.
With a soft laugh, he wrapped her in his arms. “It’s a surprise to me as well, but there it is. When I watched Miss Savoy fall under the gig, I knew it could have been you. At that instant, I realized how much I love you.”
Caught up in his assertion, she came near to blurting out her love, but she hesitated. Perhaps his declaration of love was a spur of the moment and lingering reaction to the dramatic ending of Joliet’s life.
“Are you quite certain? I thought you married me because of your noble sense of duty. And your gallant desire to protect me.”
“I did, but that was only an excuse not to recognize the truth for myself. I love you. I loved you the first time I witnessed you struggling with the reins after your gig landed in the ditch. That love has only deepened.”
With that, she melted against him and murmured against his lips, “I love you, too. This is where I belong.”
He kissed her deeply. Everything faded away except his warmth, his touch, and his heart beating against her breast. Planting kisses down her chin and throat, he drew back when she winced.
He gazed at her swollen lips and the red marks on her neck. “Forgive me. My whiskers have marked you.” With a satisfied smile, he added, “You appear well kissed. Something of which I approve.”
A little disappointed that he’d stopped, she laughed and pulled away. “You do remind me of a thistle this morning.”
“Indeed. Dobbs was in the middle of preparing my morning shave when the door popped opened.”
Pouting, she blew him a kiss. “I’ll dress then and meet you in the breakfast parlor.”
He wiggled his brows. “Never fear, we shall continue where we left off at a more convenient moment.”
She headed back to her chamber with a different thrill of excitement clambering through her. At least, she would have her husband’s full attention while on the trip to the dressmaker. She could hardly wait.
Ringing for her maid, she began her ablutions and, after much dithering, chose a gown. She twisted this way and that, glancing at her image in the cheval glass before her. This was her best dress. “It’s well enough, I suppose.”
“Milady, it’s grand. ‘Tis ever so elegant for a day gown. Allow me to dress your hair to finish the picture.”
Bethany sat before her dressing table while her maid arranged, pinned, and primped her curls. At last, the servant deemed everything perfect. Bethany smiled her approval. “You’ve done a splendid job. I’m so excited I shall hardly be capable of swallowing a single bite before we set out.”
After hurrying to the door, she fairly skipped down the stairs in a very unladylike fashion. She entered the breakfast parlor on Eleanor’s heels. With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, she nodded a greeting. Why now? She usually sleeps until well into the day.
Eleanor clapped her hands and smiled. “Excellent. My maid informed me that Royce is home. I didn’t care to miss the long awaited shopping trip, so I made haste. I’m delighted to see you haven’t departed yet.”
Aghast at Eleanor’s assumption she was included, Bethany couldn’t speak for a moment.
Royce entered on Bethany’s heels, and his look sharpened at Eleanor’s words. “My apologizes, but this trip is strictly for Bethany. She must have a new ball gown almost immediately.”
Eleanor gave a trill of laughter. “Delightful. I need something completely new as well, and she’s never picked a formal dress before.”
“She can rely on me to help her. Besides, we have an appointment after her measurements are taken and a gown chosen.”
“But Royce . . .”
“Perhaps another time,” he murmured and loaded his plate at the sideboard. He placed his breakfast on the table, waiting for Bethany and Eleanor to be seated.
A little spurt of pleasure shot through Bethany. He took my part. She settled back and began to eat along with Royce. While he drank his coffee and ate a bite, his mood seemed to mellow. She met his look with a smile.
John joined the gathering with a nod and filled his dish. He sat down. “Are you planning to make a dash to the theater before you return to Stroter Hall?”
“Say we may,” Eleanor enthused.
Royce wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Certainly.”
Bethany wished her cousin a thousand miles away. It seemed Eleanor considered herself the center of everything.
“I promised Bethany the treat. I have the outing arranged for tomorrow evening.” He stood. “Bethany, if you’re finished, we must make a start. We don’t wish to be late for the appointment.”
She pushed her chair back and made haste to join him. After she pulled on her gloves, he took her elbow to escort her outside and into the waiting carriage. Climbing aboard, he settled beside her and tapped a signal to the coachman.
When the carriage rolled along, Bethany said, “I thought the appointment ploy was only for Eleanor’s benefit. What appointment?”
“Now you are married, your family solicitor wishes to discuss business. He has papers for both of us to examine. Routine, my dear.”
Surprised, she raised her brows. “I can’t imagine what that could mean.”
“Your guardian mentioned something about your trustees. I’m certain your father left you something. A dowry at the very least.”
Her mind began to churn. A cloud of mystery seemed to hover over the entire outing. “How can there be a dowry? I’ve never caught even a whiff of such a thing in all the years I kept the records.”
“Certainly it wouldn’t be in the records. If such a thing does exist, the solicitor will have charge of the documents.”
She sighed. “I suppose I must wait to find out, but I do hope you are correct. I’d love to feel less like a beggar maid.”
“Nonsense. You are not a beggar maid, with or without a dowry. You are a Carrington now. Don’t let it trouble you more.”
He has no idea how his complete acceptance makes me feel. Squeezing his hand, she leaned against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
After several minutes, she straightened and resumed staring out the window at the scenery. Finally, she turned her attention back inside the carriage and couldn’t prevent a mischievous grin from curling her lips. “Shall we have time to turn down St. James Street on the way home?”
“St. James Street?” A surprised expression flashed across his face.
“Sara mentioned I wouldn’t want to miss all the dandies when they go on the strut.”
With a scandalized expression, he threw his head up. “That you will not see. I should box her saucy, impertinent ears for that piece of meddling. I don’t wish to withhold any suitable indulgence from you, naturally. But . . . on the strut, indeed,” he huffed.
She sighed. “If you think it would be improper . . .”
“Most
improper. Be content with a new wardrobe.”
Squeezing his arm, she said, “Of course, I’m content. I was only jesting. Although it would be a sight.”
Before more could be said, the carriage pulled to a halt in front of a shop with silk gowns displayed in a wide window. Above the door, a sign announced Madame La Fontaine’s Establishment.
A thrill of excitement ran through her while Royce helped her alight. She spared a glance for the fashionable dresses arranged discreetly around the chamber. A quick concern as to the purchase price of such delectable dresses ran through her mind, but she shrugged the matter off with a sigh. Royce wouldn’t allow her to run him off his legs.
The interior of the shop held several gilded chairs with padded seats of elegant, gray velvet to match the drapes. A light, airy material in a shade of ivory hung over doors at the back of the room. The establishment’s rich stylishness could well grace a fine drawing room.
The smell of fabrics, freshly dyed, invaded the showroom along with a trace of a lady’s cloying perfume. Bethany didn’t care. This was her first experience of visiting a fashionable dressmaker, and she intended to enjoy every minute.
A slender lady dressed in a gown of the latest style, elegant and assured, hurried forward. “Ah, Lord Rivton. How may I serve you today?”
Royce nodded his head. “My wife, Lady Rivton, is in need of a complete new wardrobe. A riding habit or two amongst the selection. She must have a ball gown fit for a princess almost immediately. Several kersey dresses for day wear, walking gowns. You know the drill. No expense spared.”
“Oh Royce,” Bethany breathed.
“You shan’t break my shins over a few new gowns, even several such dresses, however expensive. I promise,” he whispered in her ear.
“After we take your measurements, may I show milady several styles and fabrics?”
Bemused and delighted, Bethany followed Madame La Fontaine into a back chamber. Bolts of fabrics of every description were displayed and pins, along with pattern cards, covered the top of a table. A shop girl helped her strip out of her garments, not completely bare. Nonetheless, near enough for her taste. After being measured but before she could don her gown again, Madame La Fontaine stopped her.
“Milady, if you will allow, I have several exquisite gowns already stitched for a client who canceled. Being with child, she found the garments totally inappropriate for several months. The colors would be so perfect and you are about her size. I thought, since producing a wardrobe up to scratch is imperative and time is short, you might consider the gowns.”
Bethany nodded her consent and caught her breath at the sight of the first creation presented for her perusal. In her eyes, a dainty, jonquil silk gown with a high-waist and capped sleeves appeared lovely beyond compare.
Madame La Fontaine herself helped Bethany into the frock and stood back with a satisfied smile. “Just as I thought, almost perfect. With a few minor adjustments, it will be as if the dress was made for you.”
Bethany turned and glanced in the mirror. She could hardly believe she’d been transformed by an elegant gown. The lady staring back at her, only vaguely resembled Bethany Ann Carrington. Wanting Royce to see her in such finery, she hurried to the door. Before she emerged, she peeked out at Royce sitting on the edge of a spindle-legged chair, drumming his fingers on the arm.
He bounded to his feet when she appeared in the doorway. “Charming, my dear. Simply charming.”
“Do you like it? Will it do?”
“Most certainly. Quite exquisite. It shall be yours.” With his usual devastating smile on his lips, he took a step in her direction. “Are you pleased with the gown?”
“Oh, Royce, I’m delighted. The color, the style, everything is perfect,” she breathed and twirled around for his inspection.
He turned to Madame La Fontaine. “She shall wear the dress now. We trust your judgment. If you please, send round as many garments as you can supply. She may pick and choose what she wants at her leisure. We’ll leave the ball gown completely up to you.”
“Certainly, milord.” Madame La Fontaine curtsied with a pleased smile on her face.
“We have an appointment and must make haste.” Heading out the door with Bethany by the elbow, he turned to the dressmaker again. “Don’t forget the riding habits.” With that, he escorted Bethany from the shop and helped her back into the carriage. “Now to face the solicitors.”
Chapter 28
Bethany quivered with anxiety while she gazed out the window. What if I do have a dowry? Her hopes soared and the soft spot she harbored for her husband grew. Although Royce had graciously told her a dowry wasn’t necessary, she still longed for one. Her fingers trembled, and she balled her hands into fists to stop the shaking.
The afternoon sun pierced the light covering of clouds when the carriage pulled to a halt. The imposing front of a two-storied building of red brick boasted rows of tall windows trimmed with dark casings and wide stone steps reaching to the door. Bethany found the façade of the structure intimidating and chose to lower her gaze while Royce helped her down.
The smell of old leather, cigar smoke, and the odor of ink mingled with parchment lingered in the air when they entered the offices of Sterns & Brinkwater.
A clerk, somewhat average in appearance, jumped up and rounded his desk. “How may I assist you?”
“Lord and Lady Rivton to see Mr. Sterns,” Royce announced, handing the clerk his card.
“One moment.” The clerk viewed the card before he hurried toward a door marked with imposing blocked letters reading, Mr. Paul Sterns, Solicitor. Seconds later, a distinguished gentlemen with dark hair graying at the temples followed the clerk forward. The tailoring of his garments and his erect carriage denoted an established figure of authority. He held the card in his hand while he bowed to the Rivtons. “Milord, milady, let us be comfortable in my office.”
He led the way into his inner sanctum filled with shelves loaded with books and an imposing desk placed before the window. Royce and Bethany each chose a chair in front of the desk before Mr. Sterns took his seat. Drawing a stack of documents forward, he glanced at Royce. “The papers are in order and waiting for your signature.”
“Then I do have a dowry,” Bethany breathed and shifted restlessly in her chair. A sensation of excitement made it impossible for her to sit still.
“No indeed. Not merely a dowry, but a full estate,” the solicitor replied.
Royce’s brows climbed. “What estate?”
“Why Birdelwood Manor and the surrounding grounds, farms, everything, including quite a sum invested in the funds. I believe Viscount Henry Littleton purchased it not long before he and his wife perished.”
Royce rubbed one brow with his fingers before bringing his steady gaze to bear on the solicitor. “I was led to believe the estate belongs to Arthur Littleton and his family. He assured me there was not even a small dowry.”
“Not a small dowry, but everything. Arthur Littleton and his family moved into Birdelwood Manor not long after Viscount Henry Littleton’s tragic demise.”
“How is that possible? Why didn’t the estate pass to Arthur Littleton when Henry died without male issue?”
“The estate belonged completely to Viscount Henry Littleton, purchased with his private funds left to him by a great aunt. There is a small holding, quite a snug little property in Essex, that is entailed. It belongs to Arthur Littleton, but it’s nothing compared to Birdelwood Manor. It’s long been rumored their father gamed away everything he could lay his hands on. A pity, but there it is.”
Bethany interrupted, “Why was Uncle Arthur and his entire family allowed to inhabit the manor, manage the lands, and act as if everything belonged to him if none of it is entailed?”
“Arthur Littleton had a daughter about your age and he consented to care for yo
u as his brother’s orphaned child.” He raised one brow. “Your guardian approved of the arrangement. Arthur Littleton could and did draw on the estate for expenses to raise you. He doesn’t own the manor or any of the proceeds from the estate. Not even the invested funds. All belongs to you, Lady Rivton.” He smiled over at her. “Now, the management of the properties, funds, and other assets shall be transferred into your husband’s capable hands.”
Her chest swelled with indignation. “I know Uncle Arthur is a nip-farthing, but if the funds belonged to me, why wasn’t I allowed to own so much as a horse or seldom even a new gown? Eleanor had a horse and was gowned in high style. I’ve never had a say as to the spending of a single pence or pound of my money.”
Mr. Sterns pursed his thin lips. “I assure you, there was always more than ample funds allowed for housing expenses, a generous clothing allowance, and so forth. A vast amount was approved only last year for your come out ball and items necessary for the Season.”
Shocked, Bethany denied, “I did not have a London Season. No stylish new gowns either. I was educated because Eleanor progressed much better when we were schooled together.”
Mr. Sterns turned to Royce. “We shall demand an immediate accounting from Arthur Littleton.”
Royce’s face darkened and his jaw tightened. “No need. I’ll see to it.”
The solicitor leaned forward and moved several papers to the edge of his desk. “If you and your lady will sign these documents, everything shall proceed immediately.”
A Lady's Vanishing Choices Page 23