“I do have a maid,” Ellen said with a smile that was miles too gracious for what Lady Margaret deserved. “It is just that I have been trying on a great many new things this morning. I have made several purchases to refresh my wardrobe for the coming season.”
That answer seemed to satisfy Joseph’s mother and Aunt Josephine, and the duchess as well, judging by her smile.
“I never purchase ready-made,” Lady Margaret said, tilting her chin up. “I only ever have my gowns custom-made.”
“Margaret,” the duchess scolded her in a soft whisper. The frown that the woman wore for her daughter-in-law bolstered Joseph’s spirits.
“I intend to have several things custom-made as well,” Ellen went on, outwardly calm and bright. Joseph sensed that Lady Margaret’s blow had, indeed, landed, however. “I was just so fascinated by the idea of department stores that I requested Mr. Rathborne-Paxton indulge me and his mother and aunt with an excursion.”
“What a lovely idea,” the duchess said.
“An excursion to a department store?” Lady Margaret looked affronted. “That sounds like something middle-class girls do.” She narrowed her eyes at Ellen. “But, of course, that would stand to reason, wouldn’t it? For a woman whose father herds cows?”
“He owns an extensive ranch,” Ellen said, her voice too quiet.
“John Lewis’s is all well and good,” Aunt Josephine stepped in. “But we were just discussing that there is to be what they call a fashion parade, a private event, here in Oxford Street next week.”
“Several well-known designers from the continent will be displaying their creations there,” the duchess confirmed. “Including the House of Wirth.”
“Not that you would be able to attend an event of that caliber, Miss Garrett,” Lady Margaret said, staring down her nose at Ellen.
Joseph felt rather than saw the despair radiating from Ellen. She was doing her very best to behave up to Lady Margaret’s level and to fit in with her, but Lady Margaret was implacable. Joseph had to do something.
“Your Grace, I understand that your husband has encountered a few difficulties in his business dealings as of late,” Joseph said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “I have come into some information about these difficulties, and I would very much like to speak to him about them.”
While the duchess seemed to catch onto what Joseph was doing in terms of shifting attention away from Ellen, her answer was disappointing. “I’m afraid I have nothing to do with my husband’s business dealings,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Perhaps you should speak with him directly about it.”
Joseph opened his mouth to complain that he had been unable to convince Westminster to listen to him, but Long’s words about never complaining to spare himself from looking like a fool jumped to his mind.
“You are quite right, Your Grace,” he said instead. “I shall seek him out at my earliest convenience to discuss the matter.”
“I am certain His Grace will be eager to speak with you,” the duchess said, though Joseph was certain she was just being polite. She glanced past Joseph and Ellen, spotted something, and stood. “It appears our driver is here.” She turned to smile at Joseph’s mother and aunt, who both rushed to stand when the duchess did. “It was lovely passing these few minutes with you, Lady Vegas, Lady Dorrington. And it was quite a treat to meet you, Miss Garrett. I am certain we will see more of each other.”
Goodbyes were exchanged with perfect politeness, but as the duchess and Lady Margaret walked away, Ellen watched them go with a wistful look. Joseph wished he could thump Lady Margaret upside the head to make her see what a treasure was, or that he could make some sort of impassioned speech to convince the duchess to invite Ellen to her ball. He had never felt so helpless, and over something he would never have expected would capture his emotions so thoroughly.
As she neared the door, the duchess dropped a handkerchief. Ellen rushed straight after her, hurrying to pick it up and hand it to her. Joseph watched with a swelling sense of pride as she and the duchess exchanged a few additional words.
He was pulled out of those feelings when his mother asked, “What mischief have you gotten into with that girl, Joseph?”
Joseph frowned and turned to his mother. “Miss Garrett is not a girl, mother, she is a woman. And very shortly I believe I will have a question for her.”
To his surprise, his mother’s expression darkened. “And is there a reason you will be asking this question so precipitously? A reason that has to do with the flushed state you were both in when you arrived or the pins falling from Miss Garrett’s hair?”
Joseph heated and fought to look his mother in the eyes. “No, it does not. I will propose to Miss Garrett because I wish to marry her, not because I have to.”
His mother hummed, giving Joseph the feeling she didn’t believe him.
In truth, he wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by the attendant. He wondered how far he would have gone. The feeling of his unreleased orgasm still pulsed within him, along with an affection that made him think wild things. Things such as whether he would have the will to stop himself from ruination the next time he and Ellen found themselves on the doorstep of passion.
Chapter Ten
There was nothing quite so wonderful as a plan that was coming to fruition. And as Ellen dressed in one of her new day dresses, pinned a modest cameo to the high collar, and headed downstairs to breakfast two days after her shopping excursion with Joseph, she was absolutely certain that her and Joseph’s plans were proceeding precisely as they should. She was dressing and styling her hair in the same, modest style that she noticed other ladies of London wearing, she had only gone to the proper, acceptable parks the day before, and most definitely in the company of a maid, since Lenore was otherwise engaged, and she had nodded sedately and smiled politely to the ladies she had met there. She was doing everything perfectly correctly.
“And yet, you don’t seem particularly happy, Elle,” Lenore commented to her over breakfast.
Ellen blinked at her sister. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. “I am perfectly content with things.” Even though she was sitting across the table from Lenore with Phin at the head of the table, helping their son, Jensen, manage a rare breakfast with the adults, Ellen spoke in the manner of her new English rose persona.
Lenore pursed her lips with her teacup halfway to her mouth and frowned at Ellen. “Something about this entire scheme feels underhanded to me.”