Her Grace in Disgrace by Claudia Harbaugh

Author:Claudia Harbaugh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
Published: 2020-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The following afternoon, Isobel stood in the parlor, staring out the window at Woburn Place. Other than the treasured early morning rides in Regent’s Park with Bella, Isobel had only attempted to venture past the four walls a handful of times since the house party at Adelphi. She had gone to Bond Street twice: once to replace threadbare gloves at the milliners and once to buy a new perfume. On both occasions, she had been given the cut direct by former friends. On an outing to Hatchard’s on Piccadilly Street, to replenish a rapidly dwindling book supply, Lady Middleton left the shop without her books when Isobel entered. She did not fare much better in Green Park or at Gunters. Isobel indulged in a bout of self-pity as she watched the rest of the world go about their business, free to wander at will. As Isobel observed Woburn Place, a crested coach drew up to number sixty-five and Lady Joanna and Miss Parrish alighted. Isobel rushed to a mirror, tucked in an errant strand of hair, smoothed her skirt, breathing in and out to calm herself while waiting for the callers to be announced.

Renfrew preceded the two young ladies into the parlor, face red, eyes wide. Isobel had never seen Renfrew so flustered. The butler stood stock still, mouth agape and utterly silent. Lady Joanna pushed past Renfrew without waiting for the dumbstruck butler to announce them. After greeting the guests, Isobel noted the mystified Renfrew failed to relieve the ladies of their outerwear.

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

“Yes, miss?”

“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?”

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

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

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

“Are you?” said Lady Joanna. “I distinctly remember making plans to visit. Is that not so, Mary?”

Mary nodded.

“Yes, of course, but that was before…” Isobel stretched out both hands, palms upturned.

“Before what?” Lady Joanna asked, green eyes widening.

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

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

“Do not try and gammon me. I know 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?”

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

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

“She will never know, Miss Kennilworth.”

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

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