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A Kind Lady Defended an Elderly Dowager Being Insulted — Never Knowing She Was the Duke's Mother

A Kind Lady Defended an Elderly Dowager Being Insulted — Never Knowing She Was the Duke's Mother

Chapter 7

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Beatrice spun on her heel, grabbed her skirts, and practically sprinted back toward Madame Valerius's."Bea!" Louisa yelped as Beatrice grabbed her arm and dragged her down the street. "What on earth are you doing? You're wrinkling my sleeve!""Walking," Beatrice gasped, her face burning. "We are walking very fast, Louisa. We are never returning to Bond Street. I am joining a convent in France."Back by the carriage, Leopold watched the woman flee. He turned back to his mother, one dark eyebrow raised in a silent question."Her name," Agatha said smoothly, letting her son hand her up into the plush velvet interior of the carriage, "is Miss Beatrice Hastings. And Leo, darling?"Leopold stepped in after her, pulling the door shut. "Yes, Mother?"Agatha unwrapped the tissue paper, smoothing the Brussels lace over her lap. "Cancel our return to the country. I believe we are staying for the remainder of the season."The invitation arrived on a Tuesday, delivered by a footman wearing livery that cost more than Beatrice's annual wardrobe allowance. It lay on the silver salver in the Hastings' cramped morning room like an unexploded bomb: thick cream-colored vellum, a heavy wax seal bearing the crest of a roaring lion.Beatrice's older brother, Richard, stared at it. He had paused mid-bite of his toast, a crumb clinging to his lower lip. Richard was a man who calculated the monetary value of every interaction he had before speaking; currently, his brain was short-circuiting."The Duke of Ashborne," Richard said, speaking the name as if uttering a prayer in a crumbling church. "He is hosting a ball on Friday."Louisa snatched the heavy card from the salver, her eyes scanning the elegant script. "It's addressed to the family, Richard. All of us. Even Bea."Beatrice took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. It was lukewarm and slightly bitter; she swallowed it without grimacing. "I assure you, I have no desire to attend. You and Louisa can go and represent the Hastings' interests perfectly well.""Don't be absurd!" Richard snapped, suddenly animated. He tossed his napkin onto the table. "You will go! Do you have any idea what this means? Ashborne hasn't opened his London house in five years. The man practically lives in a cave in Derbyshire. If he is hosting, it means he is looking. And if he is looking, every family with a daughter under thirty is going to be there trying to claw their way to the altar!""Which is precisely why I shouldn't go," Beatrice pointed out gently. "I am twenty-six, Richard. I am not clawing anywhere. I would rather stay home and read the new parliamentary reports. At least the politicians are honest about their lying.""You are going," Richard said, his tone final. "We need the social capital. Being seen at Ashborne House elevates us. Besides, Louisa needs a chaperone while I am networking."Beatrice looked out the window. The sky was the color of dirty slate. She knew exactly why that invitation had arrived: it had nothing to do with Richard's nonexistent political influence or Louisa's pretty face; it had everything to do with a piece of Brussels lace and a frail woman in a frayed coat.
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A Kind Lady Defended an Elderly Dowager Being Insulted — Never Knowing She Was the Duke's Mother

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