if I made an effort to come to him.”
“I apologise I haven’t called, Mother. I have been swamped as of late.”
The lady’s eyes swept the room, only lingering for a second on Bridget and Betsy before settling on the fire’s pair of chairs. She immediately took one while Lord John sat in the one he stood next to.
Bridget hesitated for a moment. She still had a deep desire to slip from the room before the dowager acknowledged her. Instead, she shuffled Betsy over to the sofa.
“Mother, I’m sure you’re aware of my ward, Miss Betsy Smelting, and this is her governess Miss Bridget Thatcher,” Lord John motioned.
“Yes, we’ve met once before in the park,” the dowager said without even giving a glance in her direction.
“I wasn’t aware that you had encountered each other,” Lord John stated while sending a questioning look at Bridget.
A slight shake of her head told him that it was not something to discuss now.
Both Betsy and Bridget gave their greeting before tentatively seating themselves on the couch.
“May I play with my dolls now?” Betsy whispered to Bridget.
Bridget shook her head. “We must wait a while, I think.”
“It is very rude to have whispered conversations in front of company,” the dowager snapped. “Come stand before me, girl. I want to get a good look at Smelting’s offspring.”
Bridget gave Betsy’s hand an encouraging squeeze before helping her to stand before the older lady. Both were apprehensive. Already Betsy had had one misshap with the house of Ludford and didn’t want a repeat.
The dowager studied the child with narrow eyes for a few moments.
“She isn’t entirely hopeless, so at least there is that,” she said in a dismissive tone.
Bridget let out a puff of air she didn’t realise she was holding. Perhaps the dowager didn’t approve of her, but at least she didn’t find Betsy wanting.
They sat listening to the woman go over every bit of gossip with Lord John for the next hour. Soon Mr. Higgins joined the party. He too was surprised to see the addition of Lord John’s mother to their small dinner party.
Finally, dinner was announced, and it seemed that the dowager had no intention of leaving. In truth, it was a house owned by the duke and, as such, she had every right to stay there without having to beg permission from her younger son.
“I suppose this is where we bid the child goodnight,” the dowager announced. “I must say, at least she was quiet though she did seem to fidget some,” she added to offset any compliment.
“Mother, Miss Thatcher and Betsy will be joining us for dinner,” Lord John stated plainly.
“For dinner?”
His mother lifted a hand to her suddenly heaving chest. The notion alone seemed to almost throw her into a fainting spell.
“Such a thing is just not done, John. You have a guest,” she added in a lower voice and motioning to Higgins.
“Higgins has dined with us on several occasions, and he has never been scandalised by their addition as of yet. I doubt tonight will be any different. Tonight is also a special occasion. I have already promised Betsy to be party to it, and I won’t go back on my word.”
That seemed to force silence from the woman on the matter. Bridget took note of this. Though it appeared propriety was high on the dowager’s list of essential characteristics, honour was just slightly higher.
As they entered the dining room, Lord John took his place at the head of the table. The dowager duchess took his right and Mr. Higgins went to his left. Bridget had no desire to sit next to the dowager but also wanted to put some protective space between the lady and Betsy.
Despite her efforts, though, the older lady insisted that Betsy sit next to her.
“I will ensure that the child will at least behave properly,” she announced.
Bridget took Betsy’s other side.
“There will be no need for the nanny,” his mother announced dismissively.
“She is not the nanny. Miss Thatcher is Betsy’s governess and my guest.”
The dowager rose her hand to her suddenly palpitating chest again but said nothing. She clearly had many opinions about the strange way Lord John was running his household but chose to keep her tongue.
The meal wasn’t as fun as Bridget had hoped for a celebratory evening. Though she kept her portions of conversation to a minimum, the dowager had plenty to say.
Most of the meal passed with more discussion over current gossip, then Mr. Higgins got his turn under the fiery stare