Deb Marlowe - Unbuttoning Miss Hardwick

‘How lucky you were,’ Lady Ashton said wistfully. ‘I rather thought that Ashton was my chance at such a relationship. We had such a wonderfully satisfactory courtship and after our marriage we grew even closer.’ With a heavy sigh she set down her tea. ‘Thick as thieves, we were, so impatient to get back to each other at the end of the day. I finished his sentences and I vow that he knew what I was going to say before I could finish thinking it …’ Her words trailed off and her gaze came unfocused. Chloe knew she’d left these rooms altogether. She sipped her tea and left the countess to her memories.

But in a dazzling change of mood, Lady Ashton whirled and fixed a determinedly hopeful smile upon her. ‘But the bloom does fade. A common enough situation, I would guess.’ She leaned forwards. ‘What would you recommend, Miss Hardwick, for a couple grown distant from each other?’

Chloe’s cup rattled in the saucer. ‘Why ask me?’

‘My brother’s letters are full of praise for you, dear. He raves about your uncanny skill at reading people, at your ability to handle any situation or solve any problem. I thought you might have a suggestion that could help me.’

She flushed. She shouldn’t answer, shouldn’t meddle. Almost without thought, she ran her fingers down the row of buttons on her jacket. She’d forgotten herself, crawled too far out of her shell. She needed to get back.

Yet the countess’s pain was apparent and remarkably like her brother’s. She pursed her lips together.

‘You miss him, it is obvious,’ she abruptly blurted. ‘I’d wager that he feels the same. Perhaps he only needs a reminder of the closeness that you once shared.’

‘A reminder?’ Lady Ashton arched a brow. ‘I remind him quite regularly, Miss Hardwick.’

Chloe tried not to flush. ‘Something only you would know, I meant.’

The countess sat back with a frown. ‘A secret?’

‘A secret wish, perhaps. A regret? Something that you would understand the significance of, more than anyone else.’

The frown deepened and her eyes narrowed. ‘That is a very interesting notion, Miss Hardwick. I shall set my mind to it.’

Several long moments of silence passed. Chloe quietly set her cup down. She started to rise, but jumped when Lady Ashton gasped out loud.

‘I know just the thing!’ The countess had gone pink with excitement. ‘It couldn’t be simpler—or more perfect! Miss Hardwick, you are brilliant!’

‘I am truly glad I could help, my lady.’ Chloe got to her feet. ‘I should get back now, though. Thank you for a lovely visit.’

‘Oh, you must forgive me once more.’ Lady Ashton rose as well. ‘First I steal you away and then I neglect you. But you must not worry that Braedon will berate you, Miss Hardwick. I doubt we’ll see either hide or hair of him until dinner and then we shall present a united front. He’ll be helpless against the two of us.’

Chloe paused and placed her hands on the back of her chair. ‘Dinner?’

‘Indeed. The vicar and his wife are to join us. And Sir Thomas, of course.’

Chloe bit her lip. ‘I’m afraid that I do not normally join the company at dinner.’

The countess frowned. ‘How do you normally take your meals?’

‘On a tray in my room. Or sometimes with the housekeeper in her apartment.’ She shifted. ‘I’ve found that the servants are not really comfortable having me in their hall.’

The countess’s eyes flashed. ‘I see that I’ve come not a moment too soon. Well. This will not do.’ Her smile welcomed Chloe in as a conspirator. ‘Pull your best dress out of your closet, Miss Hardwick. Dust it off. You shall be at the formal table tonight. I need you to even out the numbers.’

A mad surge of disappointment froze Chloe to the spot. ‘I cannot, my lady.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘I have no dress to wear. All of my garments are …’ She made a small gesture down the length of her protective coat and heavy skirt.

‘What, all? ’ Shock had apparently robbed the countess of further words.

Chloe nodded.

‘How can this be? No—never mind.’ Lady Ashton was already across the room and pulling the chord to summon a maid. She appeared to become more agitated by the minute.

Chloe instinctively moved to soothe her. ‘Don’t fret, please. No one here will fuss over uneven numbers. Or perhaps I can send a footman with an invitation to one of the other neighbourhood ladies …’

‘Stop right there, Miss Hardwick!’ The countess’s tone was firm. ‘How efficient you are. No wonder my brother values you so highly. You step right in and do what needs to be done, don’t you?’

‘That is a basic, if sweeping, description of my duty, my lady.’ Chloe’s mouth twisted wryly.

‘Not today it isn’t.’

A soft knock sounded on the door. Daisy entered, but the countess waved her out. ‘No, I need Brigita, please. Have her come at once.’ She crossed the room to close the door behind the maid, but her dresser was already hovering outside in the passage. ‘Brigita! Come in, I am in dire need of your wisdom.’ Her foreign serving woman entered and the countess firmly shut the door on the befuddled maid even as she swept her hand in Chloe’s direction.

The pair of them took up a side-by-side stance, identical expressions of displeasure on their faces.

Chloe took a step back. ‘What is it?’

‘What do you think?’ the countess mused. ‘Jewel tones, I should think.’

The formidable Brigita nodded.

‘The dark purple, then.’

‘No, my lady—not with that pearlescent skin and dark hair. She needs the ocean-blue.’ This was said with heavy Germanic finality.

Chloe began to understand what was going on. She took another step back. ‘No, my lady …’ But she paused. Changing her hair had had a measurable effect on the marquess. What might happen if she changed … everything? She looked down at her costume. Could she do it? Step outside of the disguise? Leave herself vulnerable?

Her eyes closed. Images sprang to life in her mind. Lord Marland at practice, all muscle and might. Leaning over her desk, eyes glowing over a renovation. Sitting across the workroom in companionable silence. Gripping her arm and smiling up with warmth and support.

She nearly trembled with sudden yearning. She could do it. Because she wanted all of that again—plus the promise of more. Not so long ago she’d thought that she was grateful to have landed close to happiness. Truly, she was changing inside—because now close wasn’t enough. She wanted to be happy—she wanted to wallow in it. And she quite desperately wanted to make Lord Marland happy, too.

She thought they had a chance at it. A spark did exist between them. She knew it. Just as she knew he had been ignoring it nearly as diligently as she had been urging it to life. A complete change of appearance might be what she needed to blow his resistance to shreds, to obliterate the barriers he’d placed between them from the beginning.

Only one thought gave her pause. To what end? He was a marquess. Would he even consider a relationship with his assistant? She bit her lip. He’d never exhibited any need to live by any strictures except his own. His words to her the other day had certainly encouraged her to look beyond society’s expectations.

‘Oh, yes, Miss Hardwick.’ The countess was waiting, all kindness. ‘This is a momentous day. Not only has my taciturn brother offered me advice, but for perhaps the first time, I am taking it. Today you have been of invaluable help to me.’ Her voice softened. ‘Today you have given me hope.’

All of her new feelings whirled inside of her, urging her on. ‘But what of—?’

‘No.’ Lady Ashton raised a hand. ‘Now I am going to go start my own preparations. You are going to put yourself in Brigita’s hands.’