The Socialite and the Soldier by Sarah Winn

Author:Sarah Winn [Winn, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
Published: 2015-12-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“Is that another letter from Captain Matthews?” her mother asked.

Her voice, coming up from the large, heavily draped bed, surprised Angela. In the three weeks since Christmas, Lady Dorothea’s health had declined rapidly, requiring such an increase in her doses of laudanum that she usually napped for an hour or so after taking the pain medication.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Angela said as she moved away from the window where the light was brighter. She gave the sheet of paper she held a small wave even as the fingers of her other hand automatically reached to caress Daniel’s letter in her apron pocket. “This is from the Countess of Firthley.”

Her mother thinned her lips into a small smile. “It’s still sounds odd to hear our Catherine referred to by her title.”

Angela stood beside the bed and smiled down at her mother. “She said something very nice about you.” Angela scanned the letter and began to read aloud. “I give your mother credit for everything I have today. Thanks to her I got the education that made it all possible. Please give her my kindest regards.’”

Lady Dorothea’s mouth gaped as if she were surprised. “I hadn’t thought about it in quite that way. I suppose I did help her, but I must admit I did so grudgingly. My jealousy of her mother made it difficult for me to be kind to the child.”

“Jealousy?” How could the Duchess of Bainbridge possibly have been jealous of a horse trainer’s wife?

Her mother broke eye contact, as she often did when choosing her words carefully. “Ah—well, Maureen was considered quite a beauty. Does Catherine look very much like her?”

“I don’t remember her mother well, but I don’t think Catherine’s hair is as red as her mother’s, although, it is every bit as curly.”

The duchess shook her head. “I always thought that hair too wild, and I couldn’t imagine why your father admired it.”

Angela stared at her mother in confusion. Whose hair was she talking about, Catherine’s or her mother’s? Had Angela’s mother heard the gossip generated by Catherine’s marriage about a supposed love affair between Catherine’s mother and the duke? Angela forced her voice around the growing tightness in her throat. “Oh, mother, you mustn’t believe the tittle-tattle. Society is just looking for ways to make a governess a more acceptable bride for an earl.”

Her mother’s gaze came back to Angela’s face. “What are they saying?”

Dear Lord, have I said the wrong thing?

“Hasn’t anyone written to you about Catherine?”

“Before news of my illness got about, there were a few inquiries about the story that she grew up here. What else are they saying?”

Angela hoped she could brush the subject away. “Just foolishness, Mother. It doesn’t bear repeating.”

Lady Dorothea’s pale complexion became chalky. “Do—do people think Catherine was Bainbridge’s?”

Angela sank down into the bedside chair. “No—no, of course not.”

Her mother’s gaze shifted to look at nothingness again. “I knew about the last child, but Catherine was born almost exactly nine months after the Callahans married, so I never considered she might be Bainbridge’s.

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