The Duchess Hunt

by Jennifer Haymore

  Dismay flickered over her features before they smoothed out again. He tried to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Oh, yes,” she said brightly, “let’s!”

  They left the overwhelming pink of the drawing room to search for Lord and Lady Stanley. Simon straightened his spine and faced his fate head-on, but a part of him felt like this was a death sentence.

  Another part of him had already died.

  Sarah had pulled herself together. She had taken some time – more than she’d anticipated she’d need – to allow herself to fall apart. She’d claimed a headache that morning and risen very late, and as they’d sat in the dining room and shared a meal that would more accurately be called a luncheon, she’d begged Esme to cancel their planned social calls for that afternoon. Esme had agreed to do so, but concern was etched into her brow.

  “What is it?” she’d asked Sarah. And then her frown had deepened. “Is it that coachman? Robert Johnston? Has he taken liberties —?”

  “Oh, goodness, Esme, no,” she’d murmured, stabbing at a kipper with her fork. “Robert Johnston? Why in heaven’s name would you think that?”

  “He fancies you.” Esme’s hazel eyes glinted over her chocolate.

  Sarah shook her head. Since she’d arrived in London, she’d scarcely spoken to him except out of politeness whenever he drove her and Esme somewhere. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, he does.” Esme seemed more confident in this than she had in anything all summer. “Did you see how he looked at you when he helped you into the carriage after we visited Mrs. Templeton yesterday?”

  Sarah rubbed her temple. She really did have a headache, as well as a heartache. “No, I didn’t,” she said quietly. “How was he looking at me?”

  “Goodness, Sarah! You are completely blind. He is utterly besotted.”

  “Not at all.” Sarah glanced up at the two impassive footmen flanking the door. Neither man met her eye, but she knew both were friends of Robert’s. The servants of the Duke of Trent always behaved at the height of discretion, but this was gossip directly pertaining to one of them. He’d hear some rendition of this conversation.

  “Humph.” Esme leaned forward conspiratorially, a devilish grin on her face. “You know, Sarah, your behavior has been quite odd lately. I’m starting to think there must be something between you and Mr. Johnston.” She took a meaningful bite of toast, chewed, swallowed, took a sip of chocolate, and grinned again. “Say what you will, Sarah, but I do believe you’re in love.”

  “My lady!” Sarah widened her eyes in the direction of the footmen, a clear warning, but Esme just laughed, unapologetic.

  “You are both charming. And if it takes a little nudge from me for something to finally happen, then so be it.”

  Sarah had simply stared at the younger woman. Esme would never, ever know how right she was… and how wrong. She assumed Robert – a man to whom Sarah had hardly spoken – was responsible. It would never cross her mind that the man who’d caused the change in Sarah was actually her brother.

  Esme would never believe that Simon cared for her, because dukes simply didn’t care for their gardener’s daughters. But coachmen did. A gardener’s daughter and a coachman – that was something Esme could understand.

  She gave Esme a weak smile. Thank you, Esme, for reminding me of my place.

  After breakfast, they went into the drawing room, where Esme began to scribble in her notebook. Sarah tried to read, but every word seemed to be surrounded by a halo, and she closed her eyes and put the book away. She picked up the basket of stockings she’d been knitting for the residents of the school for the blind and got to work on those. Her eyes blurred, and she made mistakes, something she rarely did when knitting, but she stared at the stockings and diligently pressed on.

  “Sarah?”

  “Hm?”

  “I’m… doing better, am I not?”

  Sarah frowned up at Esme, who held her notebook clasped against her chest. “Better?”

  “I mean, better than last year. I’m improving. With people.”

  Sarah’s expression softened. “Yes, my lady. You improve with every day that has passed since we arrived in London.”

  Esme’s sigh was replete with relief. After a pause, she said, “I’m trying so hard.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s just… Without Mama, I feel that it is my duty to take her place. And you knew Mama. She was so effusive. With everyone. No one in the world intimidated her.”

  Sarah wondered when they’d all started speaking of the duchess in the past tense.

  “Very true. And truly, my lady, you’ve done so very well. Not only socially, but in taking over all your mother’s charitable endeavors as well. She would be so proud of you.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I know so. And I know your brother is proud as well.”

  Esme’s expression brightened. “Is he?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said firmly. She and Simon had discussed Esme’s progress at length and had agreed that she was making great strides.

  Esme waved her hand. “Oh, you wouldn’t know that. When do you ever talk to Trent? He’s never even home, and when we do see him at social events, he hardly speaks to us.”

  Sarah looked down at the sock she was knitting and shrugged. “I can see his pride in you every time he looks at you,” she murmured.

  There was a knock on the door and Tremaine entered. “My lady, Lady Stanley and Miss Stanley are asking if you are at home for visitors today.”

  Sarah froze. Everything in her went still as death, except her heart, which surged in her chest, beating so hard it was a wonder Tremaine didn’t hear it from across the room.

  “Of course.” Esme was evidently feeling confident from the conversation she and Sarah had just had. “Please show them in.”

  Tremaine bowed, and when the door closed, Esme gasped and turned to Sarah, wide-eyed. “Oh, Sarah. I’m so sorry. I forgot about your headache.”

  Sarah stared at her knitting needles. “Don’t worry.” She tried to make her voice light. She failed.

  Georgina Stanley was going to be the Duchess of Trent, the lady of Ironwood Park. Sarah needed to become accustomed to her. Still, she hadn’t expected she’d have to face her so soon.

  Sarah’s weak words hadn’t convinced Esme in the least. She frowned. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and rest. I can manage the Stanleys on my own. I think.”

  That was an excellent idea.

  “Yes, that might be best,” Sarah managed weakly. She pushed the stocking, yarn, and knitting needles from her lap, not caring that she didn’t put it all away properly in her basket, and rose unsteadily. But at that moment, the door opened, and Miss Stanley, apparently having sprinted all the way from the front door, burst inside.

  She bounded toward Esme. When she reached her, she reeled to a halt, clasping her hands in front of her.

  “Lady Esme,” Miss Stanley said, breathless, “we’re going to be sisters!”

  Esme frowned up at her. “Sisters? Wha —”

  Lady Stanley appeared at the door, huffing a little but beaming. “Georgina has just accepted a proposal from your brother!”

  “The Duke of Trent!” Miss Stanley said, in the event that Esme had forgotten her brother’s identity.

  “Ah… oh!” Esme cast a look of wide-eyed surprise toward Sarah.

  Sarah didn’t respond in kind. She was too busy gathering the frayed edges of her composure and wrapping them tightly around her.

  Slowly, Esme rose. Miss Stanley threw her arms around her. “Sisters!” she repeated. “I am so happy! We have been such good friends, and now, sisters!”

  Esme cast Sarah another look, this one rather bewildered. Sarah didn’t blame her. Esme had never thought of Miss Stanley as a friend, much less a good one.

  “Er… well. Congratulations,” Esme said awkwardly.

  Lady Stanley came forward and took over embracing Esme after Miss Stanley finally released her. “You
may call me ‘Mama,’ dear,” she told Esme.

  Esme went stiff in the lady’s arms. Even from several feet away, Sarah could see it.

  But Georgina didn’t. “And you must call me Georgina!”

  Esme pulled away from the older woman. “Oh. Well. All right.” She did not offer for either woman to call her Esme.

  “How wonderful,” Sarah told the ladies. She tried so hard to keep the stiffness out of her voice. “What lovely news.” She gestured to the sofa. “Please do sit down. Shall I call for tea?”

  “Thank you, Miss Osborne. Yes, tea would be splendid, just splendid,” Lady Stanley said.

  Woodenly, Sarah went about arranging for tea. When she returned to her seat, Lady Stanley was saying, “… agreed to an autumn wedding. The sooner the better, I say, and an autumn wedding in the Cotswolds is always a lovely thing.”

  “And the best part of it is that we will be residing at Ironwood Park until the wedding takes place,” Miss Stanley said.

  “Oh?” Esme asked.

  Miss Stanley shrugged. “Yes. There is no reason to stay in London now that I am engaged to be married. Plus, the air here is so rancid, and Mama thinks that country air will help me to perfect my complexion prior to the wedding.”

  Sarah rather thought the young woman’s complexion was already perfect. How could it possibly be improved?

  “Why not go to your father’s home?” Esme asked.

  Miss Stanley wrinkled her nose. “We’d planned to stay in London until August, at least, because the walls at Hartledge are being stripped from top to bottom, repapered, and repainted.”

  “Ah,” Esme said.

  Lady Stanley waved her hand in front of her face. “Paint and wallpaper do ruin good country air. I have determined the house will not be fit for habitation until December, at least.”

  “So, Trent asked you to come to Ironwood Park instead?”

  “Indeed he did. We will both be in residence through the summer,” Lady Stanley said. “His Grace has agreed to be present as much as possible until Parliament adjourns, and then he’ll join us there. Permanently!” Clasping her hands together, she leaned forward. “He told me that he shall send you home next week, to be with us and to help Georgina learn all the ins and outs of her new home. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Oh, Esme,” Georgina said, dropping the “lady” without Esme’s permission. “It’ll be absolutely delightful – my own personal introduction to the environs before I take over the household.”

  Sarah did not like the sound of that.

  Then again, ever since she’d moved to Ironwood Park, she’d known that this was inevitable. That one day, Simon would marry and the duchess, who’d treated her almost as one would treat her own child, would be displaced.

  “Well. Of course,” Esme said, clearly attempting to be polite but thrown too far out of kilter for it to sound completely real.

  “Don’t tell me you wish to remain in London?” Lady Stanley said. “It is well known that you are quite… uncomfortable here.” She leaned forward to pat Esme’s knee. “We are so sorry about all the talk regarding your public awkwardness. I’m sure it’ll be such a relief for you to get away from it all.”

  Esme blanched, and fury rose in Sarah like a flash flood. Clenching her fists in her lap, she schooled her expression to neutrality, but inwardly, dislike of Lady Stanley boiled within her.

  Miss Stanley gave a vigorous nod. “You will certainly be more in your element at Ironwood Park.”

  “I daresay I will be,” Esme said faintly. And Sarah knew that all the tenuous confidence Esme had built in the past few weeks had just been shattered.

  The tea arrived, and the ladies drank and chatted effusively for another fifteen minutes before bustling out of the drawing room, saying that they had many more people to call upon to share their wonderful news, and many, many letters to write. They promised they’d come to see Esme again before their departure for the Cotswolds.

  When they left, Esme and Sarah sat in silence for a few minutes. Esme seemed to be composing herself as Sarah wondered how Simon could possibly need to marry Miss Georgina Stanley to save his family. Her original thought that Luke had compromised her didn’t seem at all feasible.

  Finally, Esme looked over at Sarah, and they locked gazes. Esme’s lips twisted. “Well,” she mused, “Miss Stanley wouldn’t have been my choice for my brother. But I suppose it’s not my choice to make.”

  Nor mine, Sarah thought.

  “And she’s very beautiful and accomplished. She’s just the kind of lady Mama expected him to marry.” Esme shrugged. “Ah, well. Those ladies were right, I suppose, about me and London. I am happy we’re leaving early, before I make a true faux pas like I did last year and embarrass my brother again.” A sad smile tilted her lips, and her shoulders seemed to deflate, whether in relief or defeat, Sarah could not tell.

  “We’re going home, Sarah. And to be honest, I won’t complain if I never have the opportunity to set foot in London again.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Parliament hadn’t finished its business until somewhat later than usual that year, so it wasn’t until the first week of August that Simon returned to Ironwood Park without any immediate plans to return to London.

  He would remain in the country until November, which would be a month after his marriage, when the next session of Parliament would commence. He did not know if his wife would be returning to London with him; many ladies preferred to remain in the country for most of the year, and he wouldn’t complain if that was her choice.

  By all appearances, Georgina had been ecstatic to see him when he’d arrived at Ironwood Park. But Sarah, who’d always been one of the first to greet him whenever he arrived home, was nowhere to be found.

  No doubt that was for the better. Still, her absence bothered him. Ironwood Park simply didn’t feel like home without Sarah.

  Sam had accompanied him to the country – he had been given a month’s holiday after his latest assignment. After his trip to the Lake District, Mark had continued the search for their mother from Ironwood Park, so he was already home. Theo had been home for a few weeks, too, since the term at Cambridge had ended the first week of July.

  The night Simon came home, he sat in the parlor after dinner, surrounded by his family and the Stanleys. It should have been pleasant but for the three marked absences. First of all, Luke was still gone. No one had heard from him since his disappearance the night they’d discovered Binnie, but Simon had tasked the investigator he’d engaged to search for his mother to keep an eye on Luke as well. The man had reported that Luke was in London, asking questions about their mother’s whereabouts on the rare occasions he was sober, but spending more time than ever carousing.

  Secondly, Simon’s mother wasn’t there. She’d been missing for nearly four months now, with no trace, and Simon was beginning to accept somewhere deep inside him that she was gone forever. He knew his siblings felt the same way, that acceptance coming over them slowly and with no small amount of grief but seemingly at the same pace as his own.

  And, finally, there was Sarah. She’d never dined with them at Ironwood Park, but as Esme’s companion, she’d taken all her meals with them in London, and he’d quickly grown accustomed to having her present during meals. Now, he felt her absence keenly.

  Finally, when the port he was drinking began to loosen the muscles of his shoulders that had been strained by the hours on horseback, he turned to his sister, who was laughing at something Mark had said, and asked casually, “Where is Miss Osborne?”

  Esme’s laugh stopped abruptly. She slid a glance at Georgina, who was sitting on the plum-colored sofa beside him, and then returned her gaze to Simon. “She is with her father in their cottage, I expect.”

  “A quite exceptional girl.” Lady Stanley sipped her tea. “Why, when Georgina and I discovered that Esme’s companion was just a housemaid, we were quite impressed. A maid? Can you imagine? Such stature the girl possesses for one born so low
.”

  Simon stared at her, not trying to hide the faint frown on his face.

  “We thought it very wise of you, Trent, to raise her to the position of lady’s companion, as Esme tells us in no uncertain terms that there was no other reasonable choice at the time. However, now that we are home, it is neither proper nor necessary. I told the young woman as much, and she understood the temporary nature of her rise in status and the necessity to reassume her prior position in this house.”

  So many reactions ran through Simon in response to this – surprise, annoyance, full-on anger – that he couldn’t speak for a moment. He took some time to compose himself, forcing a swallow of the port that didn’t want to go down.

  “I see,” he said tightly, aware of his siblings watching him, gauging his reaction. None of them knew the extent of his feelings for Sarah, but they all knew he had always been fond of her. As were they.

  Lady Stanley had no authority in this house. How dare she meddle with his staff?

  Soon enough, the staff would be entirely Georgina’s responsibility. But not now. Not yet.

  Bitterness rose within him, sharp and potent, but he would not contradict his future mother-in-law publicly. He wasn’t one to make a spectacle, and he wasn’t going to start tonight.

  “Georgina and I are Esme’s companions now, and she has need of no other,” Lady Stanley finished with no small measure of smugness.

  “Of course you don’t,” Georgina told Esme, her voice warm, yet there was a condescending edge to it. Simon turned to look at her, but there was nothing but affection in her expression as she beamed at Esme. Perhaps he had been mistaken, was inventing behaviors that didn’t exist because his intuition told him to like or trust neither Lady Stanley, nor – unfortunately – his future wife, though Georgina hadn’t done anything improper. Unlike her mother.

  “I suppose I do not,” Esme said quietly, not quite meeting Georgina’s eyes. Instead she looked at him and gave him a small smile. Was he inventing things again? Because, to him, that smile was a sad one. A regretful one. One that told him she’d rather have Sarah as her companion than the Stanley women.