Her Grace in Disgrace (The Widows of Woburn Place) by Harbaugh Claudia

Author:Harbaugh, Claudia [Harbaugh, Claudia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Claudia Harbaugh
Published: 2013-06-19T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The following afternoon, Isobel stood in the parlor staring out the window at Woburn Place. Other than her treasured early morning rides in Regent’s Park with Bella, Isobel had only attempted to venture past the four walls of her house a handful of times since the house party at Adelphi. Twice she had gone to Bond Street; once to replace threadbare gloves at the milliners and once to buy a new perfume. On both occasions, she was given the cut direct by former friends. On an outing to Hatchard’s on Piccadilly Street to replenish her rapidly dwindling book supply, Lady Middleton had left the shop without her books when Isobel entered. She did not fare much better in Green Park or at Gunters. She was feeling decidedly sorry for herself when a crested coach drew up outside her house and Lady Joanna and Miss Parrish alighted.

Renfrew, a red-blooded young man, was speechless at the sight of two pretty young ladies in their finery. So overcome was he that he led them into the parlor without announcing them or relieving them of their lightweight wraps. After greeting her guests, Isobel noted his negligence.

“Renfrew, please take the ladies wraps.” Renfrew did not move. “Renfrew!”

“Yes, Miss?” he asked, still dazed.

“Lady Joanna’s spencer and Miss Parrish’s cape, if you please.” Renfrew reddened, took the wraps and hastened to leave. “And Renfrew, please ask Mrs. Kitchen to prepare tea.”

“Tea, Miss?” he said stupidly.

“Yes, Renfrew, tea. The beverage we partake of at least three times daily.”

“Of course, Miss. Tea.” Renfrew quickly left the room, his face the shade of Lady Joanna’s crimson pelisse.

“I must confess to be surprised at your visit,” said Isobel uneasily.

“Are you?” cried Lady Joanna, completely at ease. “I distinctly remember making plans to visit, don’t you Mary?”

“Yes, of course, but that was before,” Isobel stated vaguely.

“Before what?” Lady Joanna asked feigning ignorance.

“You well know what, you little minx.” Isobel could not help smile at this imperturbable girl.

“Oh, if you mean that nonsense with Westcott, no one blames you.”

“Do not try and gammon me. I know that everyone blames me. According to the ton, the gentleman is always guiltless.”

“Well, I for one do not subscribe to that point of view. Do you, Mary?” Lady Joanna asked her young friend.

“No, I do not,” said the vicar’s daughter.

“While that is all well and good, I highly doubt that, your mother, Lady Doncaster is in accord with you. She will be livid when she finds you have come here,” insisted Isobel.

“She will never know, Miss Kennilworth.”

Isobel stared at Lady Joanna, amazed at her nonchalance. “You came in your parents’ coach, Lady Joanna, with a coachman and footman. You cannot think that they will not tell.”

“Oh, I do not think it. I know it,” said Lady Joanna in all seriousness. “You see, John, our coachman has been pilfering Papa’s brandy and I am blackmailing him. If he tells Mama, he will be found out.”

Isobel was in awe of the complete composure with which Lady Joanna admitted to blackmailing her coachman.

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