Fair Fortune: A Tangled Hearts Romance by Rebecca Ward

Author:Rebecca Ward [Ward, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: White Glove
Published: 2014-02-03T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Reddington’s stern eyes appraised the servants. Always a martinet, he had never before been so severe. This was, after all, to be his last inspection before the Jerryhams’ arrival.

Lady Vere’s servants were washed, brushed, and combed, and their liveries, dresses, caps, gloves, and aprons were spotless. Even Noah, standing at the very end of the long line, looked almost clean.

It was a fine day in May. The domestic staff had assembled out of doors and were grouped at the foot of the steps that led to the house. Margaret watched the domestic lineup from the morning-room window, where she had been stationed by Lady Vere.

The servants were the only people in sight. Though every few minutes Lady Vere demanded to know whether her guests were coming, Margaret kept answering that she could not see anyone.

“They are late. They should have been here an hour since,” Lady Vere fretted. “Look again.”

Margaret searched the wide road that led to Vere Hall and could now discern a puff of dust in the distance. “I believe that they are coming,” she exclaimed.

“Well, don’t just stand there, then! Fetch me my mirror.”

Margaret hastened to bring a silver-backed mirror so that Lady Vere could admire herself. Tricked out in a jaconet muslin dress of silver-gray, with pearls in her ears and her fair hair arranged in the Roman style, Lady Vere looked quite the thing.

By contrast, Margaret looked like a dowd. On her ladyship’s orders she had put on a high-necked dress of a greenish color that could only be described as dead leaf green. Her hair had been skinned back and bundled into a tight knot at the back of her head.

“Go back to the window and tell me what is happening,” Lady Vere commanded.

From her vantage point, Margaret watched the traveling carriage carrying Lady Jerryham and her daughter wheel into the courtyard. The carriage was followed by a chaise, which contained the ladies’ abigails and the baggage. Bringing up the rear of the procession was Lady Jerryham’s younger brother, the Honorable Vincent Federby.

Since Sir Bartholomew had refused point-blank to go jauntering off to God-knows-where to taste some bilious mineral water, Federby had consented to act as escort. Driving his curricle, which was drawn by two matched bays, he was in the crack of fashion with his bright blue coat with layers of shoulder padding, tight buff breeches, and a magnificent cravat done in the waterfall style, which completely eclipsed his chin.

“Can you see Miss Jerryham?” Lady Vere gave Margaret a look of spiteful satisfaction as she added, “She is a famous beauty and dresses exquisitely. You can learn a lesson in fashion from her.”

Margaret made an equable answer. She was glad that Miss Jerryham’s name did not cause her even the smallest twinge of discomfort. This proved that her reaction to Trent’s announcement had been the result of surprise and the shock of the now completely chastened Barnaby’s attack.

“The carriages are now at the door, ma’am,” she told Lady Vere.

The traveling carriage had

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