Anne Herries - Claiming The Chaperon's Heart

‘Yes, I believe Melia will take very well,’ Jane said. ‘Particularly, I think, if she is seen first in Society wearing one of your creations, Madame. Do you have anything at all that she could wear almost immediately?’

‘Yes, I believe perhaps...there is the blue silk, Michelle—and the yellow net... Fetch them quickly!’ Madame Françoise clapped her hands and the seamstress hurried to obey.

In all, four half-finished gowns were produced. They were orders that had been cancelled or changed after the work had begun and Madame was delighted to do the small amount of work needed to finish them to Miss Bellingham’s liking. Melia was charmed with what she saw and easily pleased, agreeing to the four gowns and agonising over a wealth of materials, styles and trimmings until Jane declared it was enough for one day and assured Madame Françoise that she would receive more visits until an adequate wardrobe had been supplied.

Riding home in the carriage with Jane later that afternoon, Melia was excited and talked endlessly of the gowns they had ordered until at last she grew a little quiet, and then looked at her hostess anxiously.

‘You do not think I have been too extravagant?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘I have very little money of my own and my aunt has already been generous...’

‘Mrs Bellingham is not a poor woman,’ Jane said. ‘She assured me that she wanted you turned out in fine style, Melia. I should not worry if I were you. I shall pay for everything, and your aunt will reimburse me in good time.’

‘You are both very good to me,’ Melia said with the shy smile which Will’s sister thought was probably what had drawn him to her. She had taken to the young girl and thought that if he did marry Melia he would most likely be very happy, for she had a sunny nature—even if she did bend the truth a little now and then.

It was as they approached Will’s town house that they saw a man leaving it. He paused for a moment in the sunshine, looking about him in a manner that Jane could only describe as impatient, and then strode off in the opposite direction. She did not have long to wonder who it might have been for they encountered Will coming down the stairs as they entered and he exclaimed at once.

‘Ah, there you both are! Lord Frant called in the hope of seeing you, Melia. At first he was quite put out at finding you both out—and seemed surprised that you should be staying here in my house. I had to explain that Jane lives with me and that you were her very good friend...’

‘I do not see why he should be put out.’ Jane frowned at him. ‘I had his letter and intended writing to make an appointment for one morning this week. If he must call without one, he must not expect us to be sitting in waiting for him.’

Will looked a little surprised at her tone, for she did not often speak so sharply. ‘I wasn’t aware that you knew him, Jane?’

‘I do not,’ she replied and laughed. ‘His letter rubbed me up the wrong way. You had gone to your club, Will—and we decided to visit the dressmaker to have some new gowns made up for Melia. Had he said he would call this afternoon I would have put it off until tomorrow—though how Melia can be expected to appear in public without some decent clothes I do not know...’

‘I dare say you’ve already taken care of all that,’ Will said and grinned at her. ‘Besides, Melia looks very pretty in what she’s wearing.’

Since Melia was wearing a simple yellow gown of muslin over a thin petticoat with a charming bonnet of straw trimmed with matching ribbons, there was truth in his words, but only the silk shawl that Jane had lent her had given the ensemble a touch of town bronze. Since he saw his beloved through rose-tinted spectacles, he could not be expected to realise that—though, had his sister ever appeared in town in such a simple robe, he might have raised his eyebrows at her.

‘Well, I shall write to Lord Frant and explain,’ Jane said. ‘Will, please ring for some tea for us all while I see to my letter—Melia will keep you company. Unless she has something more urgent pressing?’

Melia dimpled prettily and shook her head. She and Will walked into the front parlour, talking together animatedly. Jane thought the very ease of their manner together boded well for the future, but she was not certain that her young guest’s mind was as firmly fixed on marriage as was her brother’s.

She went into the smaller parlour that was her own when in town and sat down to pen a polite letter, explaining that she had taken Melia out to order some of the wardrobe she would need for the season. She apologised for wasting his time; had she known of his intention to call she would have waited in but, since they had arrived only that morning, Melia had been anxious to see a little of the town.

Feeling pleased with a letter that matched his in coolness, but was far politer, she sealed it with her own wax, mauve in colour, and pressed Harry’s ring into it. Lord Frant should see that he was dealing with the widow of Lord March and not some little nobody he could order about as he pleased! She had informed him that she would be at home any morning that week from ten-thirty until twelve and he would be welcome to call in those hours, but at other times he might find them all out.

* * *

Paul frowned over the letter that had been brought to his house just as he was changing for the evening. He and Adam had been invited to dine at a gentleman’s house and to play cards in the evening. Since the gentleman was an officer they’d known when serving with Wellington, both were delighted to accept.

Paul was not sure what to make of the letter. The paper smelled delightfully of a perfume that pleased the senses, but which he could not have named for it was subtler than the heavy perfumes he’d been used to in India. The writing was beautifully formed, but the message seemed glacial to him. What could he have done to deserve such excessive politeness? He’d seen middle-aged ladies giving the cold shoulder to some junior officers before this, but he himself had never been on the receiving end.

Lady March was probably some old trout with an acid tongue, he thought and grimaced. It was regrettable that he must call on her during the hours she’d set, for he normally steered well clear of those very haughty dames. However, since his ward had chosen to ignore his invitation to take up residence in her own home and await her chaperon and his ideas for her future, he had no choice. Had he been married, he would have had no hesitation in commanding Miss Bellingham to do as he bid her, but, as a single man of no more than one and thirty, he must be circumspect in his dealings with the young lady—and therefore he must try to get on to terms with the old biddy who had brought her to London. He had never met the Viscount Salisbury or any member of his family, but he’d been told by Mrs Bellingham that they were respectable people and rich. He’d thought Lady March a younger woman, but the tone of this letter made him think he’d been mistaken.

Well, he would forget it for this evening. Paul had already set things in motion regarding the furnishing of his house. Lady Moira had returned to town after discovering that her charge was not in residence at Paul’s country house and, discovering that he was camping out in two rooms, promised to arrange for him to meet a very good man who would furnish his house in the latest style.

He’d thanked her, for although he had his own ideas on what he wanted, he really had no idea where to start. Lady Moira knew all the best shops and the silk merchants—because, she said, when she called, all the drapes in the house needed refurbishment too.

Adam had told him he needed a wife, and a certain unease at the back of Paul’s mind warned him that Lady Moira was thinking of herself as filling the position, which meant he would be reluctant to ask for her help furnishing his house. She was actually five years older, but because she dressed in the first style, was intelligent and up to date in her thinking, she seemed younger. Many men seemed to prefer a slightly older woman, and there was something very sensual about Lady Moira. Although Paul did not care for the perfume she wore; it was too heavy and reminded him of some that the ladies of easy virtue who pleasured the Army officers had a habit of wearing. Indeed, Lady Moira reminded him of a beautiful courtesan he’d been offered by the Indian Prince he’d saved from death.