Page 20 of The Duke
Miss Finemore had recovered herself somewhat (nothing to be done about the adolescent blushes, which persisted). She gave Celine a curious look—an invitation. Celine gathered her courage and sat.
“How do you find London?” Miss Finemore said in a near-whisper. “Is it to your liking?” Her eyes kept returning to the duke, who stood forbiddingly by the fireplace. Meeting the Duke of Howard was, without question, the most exciting thing that had happened to Miss Finemore since she arrived in London. It was going to make her the most sought-after girl among her peers.
And then the Duke of Howard paid us a morning call…
Celine started to get a sense for this English custom she was navigating and how she would use it for her benefit. She relaxed a bit more, a fish slipping into its element. Now that she was sitting in conversation with Miss Finemore, one-on-one, it seemed absurd to be scared. This was only a girl, naïve and curious, who wanted a taste of life. People were people no matter where they were, and if there was one thing Celine knew how to do, it was please.
“I have seen only the duke’s house,” she said. “And it is wonderful. Have you seen it?”
KATE NOTICED THEway Celine was sitting, legs turned coquettishly to the side, bosom pushed forward, and said, “Miss Genet, you are sitting in the French mode. Very proper on that side of the Channel, but you should take the present company as your example ofEnglish feminine modesty.”
Celine blushed but gave no other outward sign of discomposure. She subtly rearranged herself, then said with a laugh, “I have so much to learn!”
Hurriedly, Kate spoke again, in case Celine took it into her head to attempt conversation. “Lovely weather we’re having.”
“Oh, yes,” Lady Pecke replied. Her hands were clenched in her skirts. “Lovely.”
“Lovely,” the young cousin echoed faintly.
There was no way Celine could stand up to proper scrutiny, she was luridly out of place in high society. Despite Celine’s clothes looking in every way superior to the countess and her cousin, this fact felt very obvious all of a sudden. Surely Lady Pecke would only need to look at Celine, and she would know.
And then Kate would never get the letter back.
“The…” Damn, she’d already covered the weather. What else did one speak of in polite company? “The leaves have begun to sprout. Also… lovely.”
“Indeed,” Lady Pecke said, smiling as though on painful reflex. “Indeed.”
“Lovely,” came the girl’s faint echo.
Celine looked as though she were about to speak again, and Kate cast desperately about for any other topic she might touch upon. The opera? She hadn’t been in an age. Hunting? An unsuitable topic for the young lady.
She decided that would do for small talk.
“I have been hoping to make the acquaintance of your son, Lord Burnley. Will he be following his father into Parliament?” If he was anything at all like Lord Pecke, she fervently hoped not.
At the mention of her son, some of the tension left Lady Pecke’s body, and her smile softened. “I believe he will, eventually. But first he wishes to be accepted to the bar, and spend some years championing those least able to champion themselves. He doesn’t believe he can understand what needs to be legislated until he can understand the needs of the poor, the meek, the unloved.”
He shared his father’s do-gooder tendencies, in other words. It seemed to be a disease that infected the entire family. Celine, however, looked as though it were the most wonderful thing she’d ever heard, her eyes shining. As though she just couldn’twait to become a member of the righteous Farnsworth-Baxter family.
The little hypocrite.
“And is Lord Burnley home?” Kate said, a little more forcefully than she intended.
Lady Pecke blushed, evidently pleased at a duke’s interest in her son. Pleasure turned to surprise, then understanding. She looked once in Celine’s direction, then away again. Very carefully, as though aware just how much might hang in the balance, she said, “I am sorry to say he won’t be joining us this morning. However…” A delicate pause. “As Your Grace has been so kind as to express an interest in making his acquaintance, I shall venture to tell you he is engaged to attend Mrs. Johnson’s rout two nights hence…” Another delicate pause.
“Miss Genet and I shall be in attendance as well. You may tell Lord Burnley I look forward to making his acquaintance.” Lady Pecke would enquire and discover from all the usual sources what Celine’s dowry was.
Her goal achieved, Kate had no desire to stay and chat any longer.
Before she could make her excuses, however, her worst fears were realised: After a brief ruckus out in the hallway, the parlour door flew open and admitted Lord Pecke. He looked like her steward Mr. Hill’s less tidy twin, with white, flyaway side whiskers and a bald head splotched over with the marks of age. He was quite literally rubbing his hands together as he advanced on her.
She could see his thoughts plain as day in his lively old eyes. A captive audience! The Duke of Howard in his own parlour, with nowhere to go!
“Ah, Duke, the very person I wished to speak to! Lady Pecke will entertain your young lady for a minute or two, won’t you my dear, while I show the duke some interesting figures I have recently commissioned on dental care among the poor.”
She said coldly, “I was told you wouldn’t be home.”
Without showing the least sign of offence, he waved this off. “Iwas supposed to be in committee all day, but the chair, Mr. Plummer, fell ill.”
