How to Capture a Countess (Duchess Diaries 1)

  “Come in!” she called.

  The door opened and a maid came in carrying a laden breakfast tray. “Och, ye’re awake. I dinna know ye was already up or I’d have come sooner.” Annie carried the tray to a small table beside the fireplace. “Ye’ve already stoked the fire, too. I suppose if I’d been a wee bit later, ye’d have dressed wit’out me, as well.”

  Rose smiled at the censure in the maid’s voice. Upon discovering that Rose had arrived without a maid of her own, the housekeeper, Mrs. Cairness, had assigned Annie to attend Rose. Annie was a large, strapping girl with wispy blond hair and a freckled, round face. She was much given to gossip, and Rose liked her very much.

  “I would never dress without you,” Rose assured her. “Besides, my riding habit has far too many buttons for me to try to dress alone.”

  “Guid. I’ve no wish t’ be tol’ I’m not doin’ me dooty.” Annie uncovered a plate and then poured tea into a china cup, steam rising into a delicate curl. “Come and ha’ yer breakfast, miss. Ye’ll be needin’ it if ye’re to ride in this weather.”

  Rose crossed to her seat and began to butter a piece of toast while Annie went to the large wardrobe and opened it.

  “I had all o’ yer clothes pressed yesterday by the laundry maid, and she was in raptures aboot yer riding habit. Said ’twas lovely, e’en more so than the ones worn by Princess Charlotte when she stayed here. I’ve been itchin’ t’ see it, though—” Annie stuck her head around the edge of the wardrobe. “Do ye think ye’ll go, as ’tis so cloudy?”

  “I don’t know about the others, but I will go even if it rains. I love a brisk ride under a gray sky, and a little rain never hurt anyone. It’ll just be more atmospheric.”

  “So it will, miss, unless it comes a downpour.”

  “If it does, I’ll take shelter until it’s done. We’re to be in a forest, I think.”

  “Tha’ ye are. Ye’ve an answer fer everythin’ this morning, haven’t ye, miss?” Annie grinned and then disappeared behind the wardrobe door. She removed the riding habit and carried it out to the bed. “’Tis a bonny habit, miss.”

  “Thank you.”

  Annie ran an expert hand over the soft skirt. “’Tis guid ’tis wool, fer wit’out the sun, it could get a mite chilled today.”

  Rose finished her toast and dusted her fingers on her napkin. After a quick sip of tea, she came to watch Annie shake out the habit’s full skirts. Last night, the second Rose had seen the two Misses Stewart and their Paris-designed gowns, Rose had known that her clothing—most of it borrowed from Lily—was sadly out of fashion. Not that she cared much; to her, a gown was a gown. But a riding habit was another matter altogether.

  A riding habit isn’t a gown. It’s armor. She smiled. “I shall wash up.” She went to the water closet situated off her dressing room, and returned clean and clad in her chemise. “Running water in every water closet. I shall be spoiled when I go home.”

  “The duke redid the entire castle when he knew he was to marry her grace. Only the best fer his duchess, he said.” Annie helped Rose into a full petticoat, tying it at her waist. “There. Now let’s ha’ a seat at the dressing table so I can pin up yer hair.”

  Rose said with a warning smile, “I fear my hair won’t stay pinned.”

  “Aye, ‘tis thick, but soft as can be, which is why it willna’ hold the pins.” Annie picked up a brush and began to pull it through the long strands. “But ’tis no’ tangly, miss. Tha’ is a blessin’.”

  “Yes, it is.” Rose waited until Annie finished brushing her hair and started to put it up, before she said, “The duke must love the duchess very much to put in such luxuries for her.”

  “He thinks she walks upon water, miss. We all do.”

  “That’s quite a compliment.”

  “She’s a guid duchess, she is. We all thought the duke was a confirmed bachelor and had no hopes o’ his ever marrying, but one day, he ups and tells us all tha’ he was bringin’ home his duchess. We was all surprised, even his lordship’s valet, fer he’d ne’er said a word aboot her afore then.” Annie leaned in and said in a low voice, “MacDougal says the duke knew his lady fer years afore, but she was married to someone else. Once’t her husband died, he waited until she’d put off her mourning afore he spoke to her. He’s a very proper man, is the duke.”

  “The duchess was married before?”

  “Aye, this is her fifth marriage. She’s outlived four husbands, she has.”

  “Goodness!”

  “’Tis no’ that unusual. Me own mam was ninety-seven when she died and she’d been married five times. Women live longer than men, miss. ’Tis a simple fact.” Annie finished pinning Rose’s hair and went to fetch the riding habit from the bed. “I think the duchess lived all o’ her husbands into the ground. She’s a strong woman and hard to keep up wit’. But the duke is her match in tha’. He’s a vigorous man, he is, full of vinegar and always movin’. He used to travel a guid bit, too, and was always in London when the weather turned. We hardly ever saw him here at Floors ’til he married.”

  “And now?”

  “Now he dinna like to be away from home. He says her grace gets into scrapes when she’s bored, and he must be here to rescue her from her schemes.”

  Rose chuckled and stood as Annie brought her the riding habit. “And does she need rescuing?”

  “Not often, though she is a schemer, miss. MacDougal—he’s been her butler since she was first wed at seventeen—says she’s no’ one to take life sittin’ down.”

  “That’s a good way to live.” Rose decided she should get to know her godmother better.

  “So ’tis.”

  Rose stepped into the full skirts with Annie’s help and settled the habit into place.

  Annie attacked the long double row of buttons that fastened up her back and at each elbow. She helped Rose put on her boots, and then fetched the coat that went with the habit, and buttoned it on, as well. “’Tis a mighty lot of buttons to be sure, though they’re pretty as can be once they’re all fastened.”

  And those buttons served two purposes today—they offered an intriguing fashion detail, and they provided protection. No one could seduce a woman who was riding a horse and protected by rows and rows and rows of buttons.

  As soon as she had the thought, though, she doubted there were enough buttons on earth to deter the light she’d seen in Sin’s eyes last night. Her heart fluttered at the thought.

  Annie bent to give the skirts a final shake. “There ye are, miss.”

  “Thank you.” Rose looked at herself in the mirror and gave a satisfied nod. Annie had pinned Rose’s hair very simply, holding her determined curls in place with a mound of pins. Rose knew it wouldn’t last, but she liked the way it looked.

  But it was the habit itself that made Rose truly smile. The severity of the cut did wonders for her boyish figure, giving her a more defined waist, while the full skirts gave the impression of hips where she had very little. It was a pity to be so dependent on fashion to form one’s figure, but there it was.

  But perhaps the best thing about the habit was the color. Of a deep blue, with a touch of lighter blue in the ribboning, it made her skin look golden and her eyes even bluer. “Annie, can you find the white woollen wrap for my neck? It’s chilly this morning.”

  “Very guid, miss.” The maid brought the white scarf and a pair of riding gloves and placed them on the bed, along with the high crowned hat. She then turned back and regarded Rose with admiration. “It’s beautiful, miss. I’ve never seen one like it.”

  “I saw a habit in La Belle Assemblée and drew a pattern from it. My sister Lily sewed it.”

  “Ne’er say so, miss. Why, it looks like something the duchess might have ordered from Paris.”

  “I shall tell Lily you said so; she will be overjoyed. No one loves fashion more than her. It was she who thought adding these would offset the severity of the habit.” She pointed to the light blue ribboning that decorated her cuffs, and the matchi
ng double line that traced the bottom of her skirts. Those two simple additions made the tailored habit exquisitely feminine.

  Annie shook her head in admiration. “Och, miss, ’tis beautiful and jus’ the thing fer a slight miss like ye.”

  “Thank you.” She wondered what Sin would think of the habit. For once, she didn’t look like a skinny rail with a gown hanging on her. What she’d give for curvy hips or a noticeable bosom, something to give her a more hourglass-like figure.

  Annie reached out and tugged a long curl that had fallen from its pin. “Och, no. ’Tis already fallin’ down. Come an’ sit down at the dresser once’t again, miss. I’ll pin up yer hair so it won’t fall when ye take a fence.”

  “If you think you can. My hair’s not so tame.” Rose followed Annie to the dressing table and sat in front of the mirror. “How long have you worked here, Annie?”

  “Fer four years, miss,” Annie said as she placed the pins in a small tray on the table and began to carefully add them. “’Tis hard to get a position here, fer the duchess is known fer her guid nature. That’s no’ to say tha’ she dinna expect things to be right, fer she do. But as Mr. MacDougal points out, as the duchess is usually in the right o’ it, tha’ is no’ a difficult thing to take.”

  Rose smoothed the ribbon at her wrist before saying casually, “I suppose, working at Floors, you also know Lord Sinclair.”

  “Ye mean Lord Sin?” At Rose’s surprised look, the maid blushed. “Dinna mind me, miss. Her grace calls him tha’ and I forgot ’tis no’ polite to use it in public. I’ll do better aboot tha’, I will.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind.” Rose picked up a comb and absently ran her finger along the ivory teeth. “He’s quite a handsome man, isn’t he?”

  “Indeed he is. I’ve heard her grace says there’s no handsomer man in all o’ the kingdom. She laments tha’ ’tis unfortunate he knows it.”

  “He is very aware of himself, though I wouldn’t call him vain.”

  “Nay, miss, fer he dinna value tha’ as some would. But he’s no’ blind to it, neither, and he’s willin’ to use it when it suits him. I suppose all men are tha’ way, though, when ye think on it.”

  “He’s different, though. I’m not sure how, but . . . ” She shrugged.

  Annie paused, her gaze finding Rose’s in the mirror. “Och, miss, ye dinna fancy ’im, do ye?”

  “No, no. Of course not!”

  “Guid, fer I’ve heard some worryin’ things aboot the man, I have. Aboot how many women he’s chased and all sorts o’ things.”

  Rose replaced the comb on the dresser. “I was just curious about him.”

  “I dinna blame ye fer tha’. Do yerself a favor, miss, and stay away from him. He’s a known bounder, he is. Too handsome fer his own guid. I once’t heard the duchess say he’d been running his own life since he was a lad of seventeen and tha’ it ruined him. And he’s far too many women runnin’ after ’im to settle on jus’ one.”

  “Oh? There none that he’s more fond of than the others? No one special?” Rose found herself holding her breath as she asked the question.

  “There is one I’ve heard aboot, a Lady Ross. But she is no’ only older than he, but she’s wed as well. They’ve been seein’ each other on the side fer well o’er two years.”

  “Goodness. And Lord Ross doesn’t mind?”

  “He’s a diplomat and is oot of the country a guid bit.”

  “Ah. Lord Sinclair must be deeply in love to continue with the relationship for so long.” Rose’s stomach felt odd, as if her toast wasn’t sitting well. “Two years . . . that’s something.”

  Annie laughed. “Lord, no. No’ according to Lord Sin’s—pardon me, miss, Lord Sinclair’s valet, Mr. Dunn, who is as flash a cove as ever walked the earth. ’Tis naught but a flirtation.”

  “For two years?”

  “I daresay her ladyship has been convenient, miss. Me mam, bless her soul, tol’ me tha’ was the worst thing ye could be to a man—convenient.”

  “I daresay that’s true.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard the duchess say time an’ again tha’ no woman will e’er tell him no, which has ruined him fer the rest of the world.”

  Well, I’m not joining those hordes. She would be the one to say no, and she’d say it as many times as she had to, no matter how he made her feel whenever he was close.

  “Of course, Lord Sin has no problem sayin’ no t’ others. The duchess is always invitin’ him to visit, but he rarely comes. ’Tis odd he’s here now.” Annie shrugged. “But again, there’s nothin’ aboot this house party as is normal. Mr. MacDougal says in all his years workin’ fer her grace, she has ne’er invited so many ancients to her house. We dinna know why—” Annie caught Rose’s gaze in the mirror and gave an apologetic laugh. “Och, how I do go on. I was fergettin’ me station.”

  “No. I was quite interested. I’ve sisters at home and it’s nice to have a coze with a woman my own age.”

  Annie chuckled. “Ye willna find tha’ among the other guests, will ye?”

  “No, I won’t.” Why did the duchess invite these guests, then? Did Sin have anything to do with that?

  Annie finished pinning Rose’s hair and then plopped her hands on her hips and regarded it from several angles. “I think that’ll keep yer hair in place, miss. Shake it once, though, t’ be certain.”

  Rose shook her head vigorously, surprised when no strands fell free. “It stayed perfectly!”

  Annie beamed as she returned the unused pins to the small waxed paper that had held them. “I’ve ne’er seen such thick hair. ’Tis lovely when ‘tis down, but when ye try to pin it up, ’tis a tragedy awaitin’ a stage.”

  Rose laughed and stood up, tied her scarf about her neck, and then tucked it in. “Annie, thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  “There, miss. ’Tis me dooty.” Annie opened the door. “Have a delightful ride.”

  “I shall,” Rose said as she left.

  • • •

  Sin found his great-aunt standing under the portico, looking far younger than her seventy-plus years. Her pugs were romping across the smooth lawn, watched by two harried footmen.

  He frowned at her morning gown. “You’re not riding?”

  “Not today, no. I’ve too much to do, getting things ready for the picnic.”

  “Let Charlotte do that for you. You love to ride.”

  “Perhaps next time. Besides, both Misses Stewart are riding and their mother has charged me with seeing to their safety.”

  “Ah, you’d be stuck with the slowpokes, then.”

  “Sadly, yes.” She glanced up at the sky. “Do you think it’s going to rain? Perhaps I should send some umbrellas with one of the servants.”

  “If it rains, we’ll just return here.”

  A groom came around the corner leading two very sturdy-looking ponies.

  The dogs barked and the footmen began to herd them inside.

  Staring at the ponies, Aunt Margaret didn’t seem to hear the commotion. “Good God. Who will be riding those? We normally only allow children on the ponies.”

  “The Misses Stewart, I believe. I assure you the ponies are well up to carrying the weight of their riders.”

  Another groom came around the corner of the house, leading two horses notable for the amount of gray about their noses. “And those are for Mr. Munro and Lord Cameron?” she asked.

  “The bay is Camelot and the black is called Chagrin. They’re very well behaved.”

  “And almost old enough to be let out to pasture.”

  “Oh, they’ve a few good, slow rides left in them.”

  Aunt Margaret plopped her fists on her hips. “Sin, have you been drinking?”

  “Not yet. If you dislike my choices of mounts, talk to Lady Charlotte. She was in total agreement with me when we discussed it last night. I wished to ensure none of your guests would be injured, and with so many older and inexperienced riders, this made sense.”

  Another
groom came around the corner, this time leading two prancing horses. One was a large, powerful-looking gelding, the other a smaller, sweet-stepping mare.

  “And those are for you and Miss Balfour, I take it?” Aunt Margaret said drily.

  “Both you and she seem to think she is quite the horsewoman.”

  “For her sake, I hope our assessment is correct.”

  The two Misses Stewart appeared in the doorway, Miss Isobel resplendent in blue, Miss Muriella in green. They preened a bit, so he supposed they were proud of the riding habits that were cut in a style more suited to younger women. The cut of their habits didn’t concern him, but the fact that their necks and wrists dripped with heavy layers of lace that flapped in the wind did.

  Sin saw his great-aunt staring at the lace and he said in a low voice, “Aren’t you glad I didn’t give them more restive mounts?”

  “Lud, yes. Such silliness. If you can get them to agree to ride those demmed ponies, I’ll be eternally grateful. Both Misses Stewart think they can ride, but they cannot.” She turned and waved. “My dears!” she called. “Why don’t you join us over here?”

  The two women began to pick their way across the lawn toward them.

  “Bloody hell, how tall are the heels on those boots?” Sin asked.

  Aunt Margaret merely grimaced.

  As the sisters arrived, Aunt Margaret smiled. “I was just telling Sin that I think the ponies might be better for this weather. Aren’t they adorable?”

  Miss Muriella beamed. “Ponies? I love ponies!”

  But Miss Isobel was made of sterner stuff. “Won’t they be shorter than the other horses? And slower, too?”

  “They are shorter,” Sin agreed, “but not necessarily slower. It’s sometimes nice to ride at a pace that allows for discussion.” He looked directly at Miss Isobel and said in a meaningful tone, “A nice, slow, steady pace.”

  An eager look crossed her face and she simpered. “Oh yes! A slow ride can be most enjoyable.” She said in a lower, more meaningful voice, “I do love a cozy conversation.”