they were all young, Will felt sure he could make this Dukedom work. He had to. His Patroon, Sir Iris, had made it very clear that the family expected him to hold Londinium indefinitely. He had every intention of doing so.
Tom was finishing his summary of business and the room felt calm. Will looked at Cathy, who was staring down at her gloves intently. He could tell she was shaking from the way her earrings sparkled, catching the sprite light with each tremble. She was wearing a new gown, one that looked different but he couldn’t work out exactly how. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and she looked at him, her eyes bright blue against the flush of her cheeks.
“Just remember what we discussed in the carriage,” Will whispered to her. “And when it’s done, we’ll return home and celebrate.”
A flicker of concern crossed her features, as if she feared something, and then Tom announced that the Duchess was to speak.
Will studied the men’s faces in the crowd as she stood. Most were too socially skilled and intelligent to betray any doubts about the Duchess being permitted to address the Court again. One of the Buttercups rolled his eyes at a Wisteria who failed to hide a smile behind a handkerchief before Will noticed it. When the Wisteria noticed his attention on him, any sign of disrespect vanished from his features and he was a model attentive listener.
Cathy cleared her throat. “My husband and I have been in close discussion regarding the Court of Londinium,” she began. Good, thought Will, she remembered the opening line signalling to the gentlemen that she was about to say something he endorsed. Even that line alone had been something she’d resisted. “And we have agreed that the city could benefit from a formal court for the daughters and wives of Londinium. As Duchess, I plan to establish this new salon as a space where women of this city can come together to discuss the issues of the day…” she paused and Will tensed, fearing she was about to go off-script. “…in an…effort to keep conversations with our husbands and fathers free of any idle speculation and questions.”
Will breathed out. Good. It wasn’t how she, Margritte, or any of the others saw the court, but the careful phrasing was designed to nip any male fears in the bud. As he had told Cathy repeatedly in the carriage, it didn’t matter whether it was the spirit of the exercise or not. What mattered was not getting anyone’s backs up before she had a chance to establish it. Once it existed, she could mould it into something of merit.
Will scanned the room. The women looked surprised and uncertain, as did the majority of their husbands.
“Has this ever been done before, your Grace?” one of the Wisterias asked from the back of the room.
“No. It would be a first,” Cathy replied. “Londinium should lead the way in all things and we’re already a city that favours debate and the more intellectual arts.”
Good, Will thought. Keep it up, Cathy.
“I beg your pardon,” the Wisteria continued, “but could you be kind enough to explain how this…salon differs from any of the countless events that the ladies of the city participate in?”
A pause. She was thinking first, that was a good sign. “The ladies of this city enjoy a full social calendar, it’s true. However, a formal salon that encourages better communication regardless of family, social status, or even the size of one’s drawing room is a world apart from a patchwork of conversations shared over tea.”
“Some sort of egalitarian effort, is it?” the Wisteria said. “You mentioned ‘regardless of social status’.”
Cathy smiled. “I am very aware that there are some ladies who are invited to discuss issues of the day more often than others. I believe that every lady has the right to participate in these conversations, for the betterment of herself and her understanding of the issues we face as a city. A formal salon would grant this.”
The muscles in Will’s back knotted. Careful, he thought. Any talk of rights for women was akin to lighting a touch-paper.
“They’ll probably talk about sewing,” said the Buttercup who had already irritated Will. “It might sound noble but that’s all it will be. Embroidery and clothes.”
He watched Cathy’s jaw clench but mercifully, she ignored the comment.
“Will there be a men-only court too, your Grace?” one of the Peonias asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
Surely Cathy had heard that?
“I asked, your Grace, if