meeting had gone awry. Her heart squeezing, she resolved to help him patch things up with his family…starting now.
“’E might not express ’is appreciation aloud,” she said. “Knight ain’t a gentleman who discusses ’is feelings—”
“As is proper for a gentleman,” Aunt Esther said with an approving nod.
“But I know ’e appreciates all you’ve done for ’im, ’is siblings, and me. Since ’e grew up with only ’is mama, I think ’e never ’ad much o’ a family, which makes ’im value ’aving one now all the more,” Fancy mused.
“Well.” Aunt Esther cleared her throat. “I would not have guessed it. But, as you say, Knighton is not a man to air his laundry, which is a sign of good breeding. You can tell me these things, Francesca, but mind you don’t wag your tongue like an untrained puppy when we’re out in Society. Best to keep matters in the family, do you understand? The Knighton name is never to be tarnished.”
“Yes, Aunt Esther,” she said.
She could see that reticence ran in the Knighton blood. Yet as Aunt Esther took a sip of tea, indicating the conversation was over, Fancy saw a glimmer of longing in the other’s eyes. Her intuition told her the lady’s blade-sharp tongue shielded a softer core. After all, Lady Brambley had outlived her husband, parents, and her siblings, and she had no children of her own. Such an existence must be lonely. Maybe she needed a family as much as Knight did.
A door opened at the back of the shop, and Fancy saw a woman emerging. While short of stature, the lady possessed a regal bearing and wore a bonnet with pink ostrich feathers that increased her vertical presence considerably. Her face was angular, with a hawkishness to her nose and dark eyes. Her steel-colored curls placed her in her fifties or sixties. The woman who held the door for her was thin, with dark silver-threaded hair, her immaculate black gown identifying her as the dressmaker. A maid followed diffidently in the stately lady’s footsteps.
To Fancy’s surprise, Aunt Esther surged to her feet, gesturing to Fancy to follow suit.
“Your Royal Highness,” Aunt Esther said with a deep curtsy. “What an honor to see you.”
Fancy hastily dipped her knees and bowed her head as well.
“Lady Brambley.” The woman had an aristocratic accent that sounded…German? The imperiousness of her voice made Fancy keep her head ducked. “And who do you have with you there?”
“May I present to you my nephew’s wife Francesca, the Duchess of Knighton? Francesca, you have the honor of being introduced to Her Royal Highness, Princess Adelaide of Hessenstein.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Royal ’Ighness,” Fancy blurted to the lady’s embroidered shoes.
“A duchess, eh? Well, let’s have a look at you.”
At the command, Fancy slowly raised her head. She saw something flash through the princess’s hooded gaze, and her heartbeat stuttered. Blooming hell, she didn’t look that terrible, did she? She knew her gown wasn’t the nicest, but the maid had managed to tame her hair into a creditable topknot. As Princess Adelaide continued to peruse her, looking at her as if she were some vile thing the cat dragged in, Fancy’s stomach churned, her mortification growing.
Why couldn’t I ’ave met ’er after I got new dresses and a few lessons under my belt? she thought miserably.
Fancy wanted so badly to be a duchess who would make Knight proud, the sort who could glide into any room with poise and grace. Instead, she’d fallen flat on her face on her very first outing. And she’d done so in front of royalty, no less. It was a nightmare coming true.
“Her Grace is newly arrived in London, Your Royal Highness.” Aunt Esther’s apologetic tones cut through Fancy’s spiraling thoughts. “She is not yet accustomed to Town ways, but rest assured, I shall be offering my guidance.”
“How fortunate for her.” Princess Adelaide pinned Fancy with piercing eyes. “Where are you from, Your Grace?”
“Um, ’ere and there,” Fancy said weakly.
“Here and there?” The princess’s gaze narrowed. “What sort of an answer is that?”
“My family travels, Your ’Ighness.” She swallowed. “My da is a tinker.”
“A tinker, you say?” Princess Adelaide’s brows shot ceilingward. “How extraordinary of Knighton to marry into a family of travelling peddlers.”
As mortified as Fancy was, she did not like the woman’s scornful tone. It was one thing to insult her and another to insult her family who’d done nothing to deserve it.
She pulled her shoulders back. “My da isn’t a peddler. ’E’s a