Page 10 of The Rogue’s Countess

“My lady, you must sit down,” Sabine exclaimed in a low voice as she glanced at several customers in the shop. Constance rejected the suggestion with a small wave of her hand, but the dressmaker dismissed her silent response. “I insist. My office has a comfortable place for you to rest.”

“I don’t think—”

“You’re going to sit down, Constance,” Patience said quietly. “If you could see how pale you are, you wouldn’t argue. Now come along.”

Surrendering to Madame Sabine’s and Patience’s insistence, which Helen’s and Louisa’s quiet voices reinforced, Constance nodded her consent. In short order, she was seated in a comfortable chair in Madame Sabine’s office in front of a cheery blaze in the fireplace. Once the dressmaker was satisfied Constance was comfortable, Sabine excused herself to resolve the problem of Louisa’s horrendous wedding gown. Patience was about to sit down opposite her, but Constance waved her hand in protest.

“No, I’ll be fine. Helen will need your support to help keep Louisa calm,” she said with a small smile.

“All right,” Patience nodded, then grimaced behind her veil evident. “The dress is most assuredly a disaster. It’s nothing like what Louisa described.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, do not mention the Currer Chronicles to her again.” Constance narrowed her gaze to eye her sister sternly. “I have no doubt Sabine will manage to make that disaster of a dress into something superb, even if the woman has to make a completely new gown.”

“I think it will be a new gown entirely,” Patience said dryly before her demeanor changed, and she bent over to rub her hand over Constance’s back in a soothing gesture. “But I’m not sure I should leave you alone. You were dreadfully pale. If I wasn’t so certain you’d experienced the an dara sealladh, I would have thought you on the verge of morning sickness—”

“Heaven forbid! It’s been less than seven months since I had Isabel,” Constance exclaimed as she remembered how difficult her daughter’s birth had been. “I’m not ready for another baby so soon, even though I know Lucien would like to have a son. He’s not said so directly, and until he does, I have no intention of broaching the subject with him..”

“All right, but do not move from that chair. If you were to have another—”

“I doubt that will happen, but I promise not to move until I’m certain I’m fully recovered.”

She smiled at Patience, who studied her for a moment from behind the veil that shadowed her features and hid the scarred tissue on the side of her face. As if satisfied with Constance’s answer, Patience gave her a quick hug and headed toward the door of the dressmaker’s office. Her sister had almost reached the exit when Constance called out to her.

“Oh, Patience, I would love a cup of tea. Would you ask Mrs. Hodges to bring me a cup?”

“Of course.”

“And Patience, see to it that it’s Mrs. Hodges who brings me my tea.”

“Mrs. Hodges?” Her sister stiffened slightly as she looked over her shoulder at Constance.

“Yes, Mrs. Hodges.”

“If you’re thinking of doing what I think you are, have you forgotten what happened two months ago when Lucien—”

“Go, Patience. I am already feeling much better, and I can only feign distress for a little while longer.” Constance frowned and waved her hand at her sister.

Although she couldn’t see her middle sister’s arched eyebrows, she knew Patience was eyeing her with more than a hint of concern. The family had all been privy to her terrible argument with Lucien when he’d learned she had advised Lady Reigate to reconsider accepting Lord Shively’s proposal. With a shake of her head, Constance glared at her sister for questioning her.

“I really could use that cup of tea, Patience.”

With a sharp nod, her sister hurried out of the room. Left alone with her thoughts, Constance pushed the thought of Lucien’s disapproval aside to contemplate her vision. Whether Mrs. Hodges was Lady Helstone or not, the woman was living in squalid circumstances.

The conditions would be heart-wrenching for anyone, whether they were a member of the working class or the nobility. However, Constance knew such poverty for a noblewoman was highly unusual. What had happened to reduce Lady Helstone to such a penniless state?

Constance remembered the woman had been one of the American Dollar Princesses who’d arrived in London seeking to marry a title. All of those brides had brought substantial dowries to their marriages. It didn’t make any sense as to how the woman could be penniless upon Helstone’s death. She frowned as she contemplated what she’d seen in her vision.

As always, the an dara sealladh had revealed only bits and pieces of the story, and everything she’d seen was too jumbled to make much sense of it. The most puzzling thing was Lady Helstone appearing at Gideon’s side. It was quite likely she’d met the earl, but the expressive emotions on her features as she’d reached out to Gideon indicated a relationship far closer than simply acquaintances or even friends.

There had been something intimate about the woman’s manner that made Constance feel as if she’d intruded on something deeply personal. Despite its lack of clarity, the an dara sealladh had convinced her of two things. The woman calling herself Mrs. Hodges was living in squalid conditions. Two, the woman was also connected to P. Currer and Gideon somehow. Whatever had brought the woman to such circumstances, Constance was determined to help the woman if she could. She even had a solution to make it happen. The question was whether Mrs. Hodges and the marchioness would like each other.

The soft sound of china rattling outside the room broke through Constance’s thoughts. Her gaze focused on the doorway, and she watched the woman calling herself Mrs. Hodges enter Madame Sabine’s office with the tea Constance had asked for. As the woman set the tea tray on the side table on her left, she avoided Constance’s gaze.

“Do you require anything else, my lady?”

Instead of answering the woman’s question, Constance reached out to pour a small amount of milk into her cup, then added tea. She didn’t look up, but it was easy to sense the rising tension in the woman.

“Do you know who I am, Mrs. Hodges?” Constance took a sip of her tea as she looked up at the woman over the rim of the delicate teacup.