Guilty conscience Grace supposed ruefully thinking of her earlier excesses as she made her way to the five o’clock appointment. Mrs Jenks had informed her that her guest – one Lady Felicity Beaumont – had arrived and been placed in the small drawing room.
In truth Grace realised that her husband was being extremely lenient in allowing her to interview Miss Beaumont alone, so it was imperative she didn’t let him down. Squaring her shoulders, Grace plastered on a determined smile and waved at Bailey to open the door.
“Her grace the Duchess of Bla….”
His words stuttered to a halt as Grace stepped forward, caught her heel in the fringe of a rug and pitched forward her full length on the floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Grace didn’t move for a few appalled seconds. Her embarrassment was such that she wondered if she should simply lie there until someone came to take her to her bed where she would remain until she was at least ninety.
“The first rule of the ton my dear, if you’re going to cause a scene, make sure you do it with style.” Grace looked up at the owner of the authoritative if slightly dry voice to her side.
“I should think you have sustained a fractured ankle at the very least,” the diminutive lady continued, her voice now firm and confident. “The rug in question is very clearly a hazard and should be removed forthwith.”
Grace managed to get to her knees, giving a small apologetic smile up at Bailey who was hovering anxiously at her other side, before turning back to the lady still regarding her quizzically.
“I fear it wasn’t this particular rug at fault madam, but rather my penchant for tripping up on any and all possible obstacles, however large or small they may be.”
“I think perhaps my version of events is much better my dear,” the lady, who could only be Miss Beaumont, argued.
Climbing to her feet, Grace smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at telling untruths.”
“Then the members of the ton will surely eat you alive your grace.”
Blinking at her guest’s cutting assessment of her peers, Grace finally endeavoured to gather her wits and remember her manners. “Please be seated Miss Beaumont. It was not my intention to prove just how much I need taking in hand, at least not on our first acquaintance. Mrs Jenks will bring us some tea shortly.”
Miss Beaumont gave a snort of laughter. “Well you certainly have wit girl, but that may not be enough to carry you through the snide comments and the malicious gossip that is most likely even now circulating the drawing rooms of London.”
Grace’s response was delayed as Mrs Jenks brought in a tray of tea and tiny cucumber sandwiches. Grace smiled up at the housekeeper in thanks, before eying the sandwiches thinking they would be very unlikely to keep her stomach from complaining until supper. However, she gave no indication of her concern and managed to perform her duties as a hostess with the necessary aplomb resulting in Miss Beaumont nodding her head approvingly.
Feeling a little more comfortable with the small though clearly formidable lady sitting opposite, Grace took a deep breath, deciding to voice her concerns.
“May I ask you a question Miss Beaumont?”
“Felicity, please your grace, and most certainly.”
"The gossip you speak of. Is that why we have received no callers?”
Her companion shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. “Very unlikely my dear. If anything, the juicier the on-dit, the more likely your front door will need replacing by the end of the season.
"No, your grace, the most likely reason you have yet to receive any callers is simply because there are hardly any ladies of your equal rank. They will no doubt be waiting breathlessly for you to call on them first. Of course, that will not happen until after you have made your formal bow.” Miss Beaumont paused and frowned slightly, placing her teacup down and partaking of a cucumber triangle.
“Under normal circumstances I pay no heed to gossip -malicious or otherwise, but in this instance, I believe it may be of use to know what is being said and I will therefore endeavour to find out what I can – discreetly of course.”
“I am very much obliged,” Grace responded with relief. “I think we shall deal very well together Felicity.”
“That is certainly my hope your grace…”
“Just Grace, please.”
Miss Beaumont nodded in acknowledgement, giving a slight smile.
Grace smiled back, clapping her hands in delight.
“Well then, my dear, if we are to whip you into shape, there is certainly no time like the present. Pray remember that showing any overt enthusiasm, no matter how fortuitous the information you are receiving, is considered very bad form within the ton. That, more than anything else will focus attention on both your background and lack of breeding.
“And Grace, it will make not one jot of difference that your husband is a Duke if the ton collectively decides to hold you in contempt.”
Grace stared at her new mentor in trepidation. “But surely not everyone would give us the cut direct. Why you yourself Felicity stated not a few moments ago that you personally pay no heed to gossip.”
Miss Beaumont shook her head sadly. “People like me do not count my dear. We are simply invisible to those who set the rules. My advice would be to listen and pay heed to my advice without intimating whence it came.”
Grace frowned. “You are painting a very bleak picture of the members London’s Fashionable Society. I cannot help but wonder whether it might behove me to simply return to Devonshire and therefore avoid any prospect of irreparably ruining the Sinclair name.”
“Unfortunately, that in itself would be enough to feed the gossip mongers my dear,” Felicity responded with a rueful smile.
