Page 9 of Lady Graceless
“Papa,” Valor said, “are we to have a stranger at our dinner? I’m worried about it.”
“Hah, nothing to worry about. Good thought, though.” The duke had turned to the viscount and his valet, who were just emerging from the luggage carriage. “Dashlend, do dine with us—I’ll send over some clothes, at least they’ll be dry. My valet will set you up. And your hysterical man there, too. Two hours to get settled.”
The viscount had expressed his appreciation for the courtesy, though his valet seemed somehow affronted.
It was well that the duke had allotted two hours to get settled, as it had really taken that long. It seemed the duke had written explicitly on how he wished the rooms to be arranged. However, it could not be done exactly as he’d ordered without tearing down some of the inn’s walls and the innkeeper was firm in his opposition to such a move.
Finally, it was sorted out to everyone’s satisfaction, including what to do with the two extra people they’d brought along. At least, Grace thought most of the party was satisfied with the arrangements. She could not say how satisfied Reynolds was to be sharing a room with the viscount’s valet, the footmen having wriggled out of it by noting that they were both very loud snorers and could only be tolerated by one another.
Grace was in a large room with four single beds shared with Serenity, Verity, and Patience. Mrs. Right was housed with Valor and Winsome. There was very conveniently a connecting door between the rooms and that was what had really held things up for the innkeeper until he’d had the idea of moving extra beds in. Though the room was large, the four beds only allowed for the narrowest of spaces to move around them. It was found to be satisfactory, though, as all the sisters were well used to being nearly on top of each other as a matter of course.
Serenity was working on Grace’s hair, catching one ringlet and pinning it down just as another set itself free.
“I really wish to look well this evening,” Grace said. “It is my first evening out in company with a strange gentleman.”
“Do you think him strange?” Patience asked. “I did wonder.”
“I mean strange in that he is unknown to us,” Grace said. “We have only been introduced and we do not know a thing about him. For instance, is he married? He does not wear a ring, but then he might choose not to as a matter of preference or he might have been leery of wearing it while at sea.”
“He cannot be married,” Verity said. “It is a well-known fact that if a gentleman were married, and then he almost dies at sea, certainly the first thing he will say is that his wife must be sick with worry. He must get word to his wife right away. Lord Dashlend said no such thing.”
Grace pondered that. It could be true. Of course, Verity made up quite a lot of what she said, but this one made a deal of sense. If a gentleman were married, he would wish to get word to his wife that he had survived his ordeal at sea at the earliest possible moment.
Mrs. Right came through the connecting door and said, “How do we get on in here? I’ve just managed to convince Valor that Mrs. Wendover does not in fact know that there are murderers in the area, as Mrs. Wendover has never been here and does not read the newspapers.”
“I suppose Mrs. Wendover will not be left behind when we go down for dinner, then,” Patience said.
“She will not. That was the compromise, in the end. Goodness, Serenity—how many pins have you put in Grace’s hair?”
Serenity shrugged. “I lost count. You pin down one curl and another makes its escape. Also, I was thinking of the sea.”
Mrs. Right, ever efficient, took over for Serenity and pulled out a dozen pins and started over.
“Will you dine with us, Mrs. Right?” Verity asked. “It is one thing at home, where you like to have your cozy dinner with Cook and Thomas and Charlie, but here you are always with us.”
“Why should this night be any different than the past nights?” Mrs. Right asked.
“Patience says a viscount won’t like it, but I say our papa will not care,” Verity said.
“Since when is the duke meant to care what’s got a viscount’s back up?” Mrs. Right said. “I will dine with you and I have every hope that word of it gets back to Lady Marchfield. It will drive her mad.”
“We ought to tell Mr. Button about it as soon as we arrive,” Patience said. “I bet our aunt has told him to report on the doings of the house. We could shock her before we’ve even unpacked.”
“Very good thought. Now, as to this Mr. Button,” Mrs. Right said, “do not be at all alarmed if I pretend at being frightened of him. I am not, and I will not be, but I have a plan in mind for that hapless fellow.”
All the sisters nodded, as they placed a great amount of faith in Mrs. Right’s plans.
“Mrs. Right,” Verity said, “I’ve told Grace I am sure the viscount is not married.”
Mrs. Right nodded sagely. “He is as unattached as the day is long. There was naught said about a worried wife upon his rescue. She would either be a terrible harpy he cannot stand the sight of and would not mind faking his own death to escape her, or she does not exist. Lord Dashlend seems too sensible to wed a terrible harpy, therefore there is no wife.”
Grace was vastly relieved. It seemed the question had been satisfactorily settled.
“There we go,” Mrs. Right said. “I have undone Serenity’s fanciful stylings and your hair is looking very well. As are your cheeks, you are blooming, my dear.”
Grace supposed she might have bloomed a bit more with that compliment. But she really did wish to look well this evening.
*
