The Return of the Duke - Grace Callaway Page 0,90

Eleanor nodded their heads solemnly, Fancy’s throat cinched. The poor dears. They needed Knight and her more than she had even known.

“No one is ever hurting you again,” she said with fierce conviction. “If anyone dares to try, you come directly to me. Or to Knight. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Fancy,” the children chorused.

Brow furrowed, Jonas said, “You never told me old Grigeaux caned you.”

“You weren’t there,” Eleanor said in no-nonsense tones. “You had your own separate wing, and you were busy with your tarts.”

“Young girls do not speak of tarts,” Aunt Esther reprimanded.

Eleanor turned her bespectacled gaze to the dessert tray. “What about strawberry tarts? Or treacle tarts? Or lemon tarts—”

“The edible kind are allowed,” Aunt Esther amended with a sigh.

She aimed a look at Fancy, as if to say, See what I have been managing, gel?

Fancy gave a reassuring nod back.

“I, for one, miss our lovely chateau in France,” Cecily carried on. When it came to complaints, she was like a dog with a bone. “At least there I was allowed to have friends. Here, thanks to whatever trouble is following Fancy, I am a prisoner in my own house!”

“It is only temporary.” Fancy clung to her patience. “Until Knight puts a stop to the threat.”

“That could take forever.” Bright spots stood out on Cecily’s cheeks as she rose in a theatric swish. “I will be a spinster by the time I’m allowed to leave this gaol!”

She flounced off in a manner that Fancy was finding increasingly tiresome.

Thus, Fancy was more than ready to see Tessa and Gabby’s friendly faces when they arrived later that afternoon for their promised visit. While Aunt Esther had been less than enthusiastic about meeting Fancy’s new friends, who according to her were “not good ton,” her tune changed considerably when she saw the beautiful cinnamon-haired lady Tessa and Gabby brought with them.

“Your Grace,” Aunt Esther said with a curtsy.

“How lovely to see you again, Lady Brambley,” the Duchess of Ranelagh and Somerville said in pleasant tones. “I hope you do not mind my arriving uninvited. But Mrs. Kent and Mrs. Garrity spoke so glowingly of the Duchess of Knighton that I could not wait to meet her.”

The duchess smiled warmly at Fancy, who smiled back. The other had a straightforward and unfussy manner that put her at ease.

“It is an honor to receive you, Your Grace.” Aunt Esther gestured for everyone to sit, and Fancy poured out the tea. “And a welcome opportunity for Francesca to meet some of her peers. As she is new to London, we are giving her some polish before introducing her officially to Society.”

“I know a thing or two about polish.” The Duchess of Ranelagh and Somerville’s tip-tilted emerald eyes shone with amusement. “Since my marriage, I have had quite a few layers lacquered on myself.”

“Truly, Your Grace?” Fancy asked, fascinated.

She found it hard to believe that this poised, confident duchess had needed refinement. The lady was a vision of flawlessness in her flounced russet carriage dress with Bishop’s sleeves.

“Do call me Maggie. And, yes, it was no small feat to transform the proprietress of a Dorset fossils shop into a duchess.” The lady sipped her tea, her eyes rueful. “But I was determined, you see, to be the duchess my husband deserved.”

Fancy understood that feeling wholeheartedly. The fact that Maggie had started off with less than noble origins and ended up a celebrated pillar of society buoyed Fancy’s hopes.

“I don’t know why you were worried, Maggie. Your husband adores you: he would have married you if you were wearing a flour sack and talking cant.” Dressed in a maroon promenade gown styled à la militaire, Tessa polished off a biscuit and addressed the rest of the group. “You should have seen the way Ransom—the Duke of Ranelagh and Somerville, that is—proposed to her. I am not one for grand romantic gestures, but even my heart went pitter-patter.”

Maggie blushed.

“We asked Maggie to come with us today, not only because we wanted the two of you to meet,” Gabby said, her blue eyes earnest, “but because we thought she could help.”

Fancy looked dubiously at the serene duchess. “That is very kind of you all, but I wouldn’t want to involve Maggie, or any of you, in what could prove to be dangerous business.”

“Danger is my business,” Tessa said smartly. “But we’ll get to that in a moment.”

“When you told us that you wished to become a lady of fashion, we thought immediately of Maggie,” Gabby explained. “She does not

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