spotty boy or that presuming heir. A failed elopement was to earn me retirement to the family seat in Kent.”
“An understandable goal,” Clarice opined, making a little moue while holding a piece of croissant before her mouth. “You did better than planned, eh? You are not banished to Kent. You are instead married to the fellow who is bringing us our teapot.”
Ash approached the table, a tray in his hands bearing a teapot, cups, saucers, milk, and sugar.
“Good morning, ladies.” He set down the tray and bowed to Clarice. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
Della appropriated the teapot. “Mrs. William Chastain, may I make known to you my husband, Mr. Ash Dorning. Ash, Mrs. Chastain. Please do join us.”
Clarice waved her bit of croissant. “We are frustrating the gossips, Mr. Dorning. They would like to see us hissing and spitting like a pair of cats, but we refuse to oblige them. Lady Della grew weary of waiting for you to offer for her, so she took matters into her own hands, et voilà tout, you propose the marriage, and all is well. Lady Della is very clever.”
The notion that Della had eloped as a stunt to get Ash’s attention sounded just outlandish enough to appeal to the gossips.
“My wife is an exceedingly resourceful lady,” Ash said, “and I am endlessly grateful that we are wed. Tell me of your family, Mrs. Chastain. Do your parents bide here in England?”
Ash likely knew exactly where her parents bided, how many acres they owned, where their wealth came from, and what they were worth. Running the Coventry meant knowing to whom credit should be extended, for whom a hansom cab should be called before the third bottle of port, and which straying wife was sleeping with which straying husband.
Ash and Clarice prattled on, about mutual acquaintances of mutual acquaintances, while Della ate toast and eggs.
“Perhaps you will fetch us a fresh pot, Mr. Dorning,” Clarice said, turning big brown eyes on Ash. “Making new friends is thirsty business, but a lovely way to start the day.”
Ash had little choice but to once again go in search of a full teapot.
“He loves you,” Clarice pronounced when Ash was out of earshot. “That can be difficult, to start with love. Messy.”
“I suspect starting without it can be difficult too. Lonely.”
Clarice’s air of friendly sophistication faltered. “What you say is true. William will be a challenge, particularly early in our marriage. I wanted to warn you, Mrs. Dorning. William bears grudges. He’s furious with my papa right now, but he’s also unhappy with you. That you and Mr. Dorning are well suited is an insult to William. I would not turn my back on him if I were you or Mr. Dorning.”
“Are you threatening me, Mrs. Chastain?”
“Mon Dieu, la fierté des Anglais… Non, Mrs. Dorning. I do not threaten. The last thing I want is for William to becloud the early days of our marriage with more foolishness. I am asking for your assistance.”
And she accused the English of having pride? And yet, Della understood the burning desire to be just another couple, just another new bride.
“I will do nothing to provoke William, and Mr. Dorning will also make every attempt to avoid further drama.”
“My thanks, and here is Mr. Dorning with our fresh pot. You will excuse me, though, for I must consult with my maid regarding the attire in which a lady flies a kite. I did not foresee such a challenge when I packed for this house party. Mr. Dorning, good day.”
She rose, curtseyed, and departed, leaving on her plate a croissant slathered in butter and jam.
“What?” Ash said, picking up the croissant and biting off an end.
“I do not know if she’s very devious, very sweet, or both. She asked that we not provoke William.”
“Which tells you,” Ash said, pouring cups of strong, hot tea, “William hasn’t been honest with her about the whole elopement. She doesn’t know how badly he behaved toward you.”
Della added sugar and milk to her tea. “She said William is angry with me, and I believe her.”
“If Chastain misbehaves again, we will deal with him discreetly,” Ash said, taking another bite of the croissant and getting crumbs everywhere. “Don’t fret, Della.”
If there were two words Della did not appreciate hearing in that calm, breezy tone, those words were don’t fret. The new Mrs. Chastain had gone out of her way to warn Della not to provoke William, William knew things about Della that could ruin her despite