Wedded in Scandal

Chapter 22

By the time Robert made it home, he almost wished he hadn’t. Dribbs met him at the door with a look of long suffering. Robert was about to ask what the problem was when he heard the noise. Women’s chatter. Loud, continuous, and on the edge of contentious. A gaggle of geese made less noise.

“What happened?” he asked. Good Lord, he had to raise his voice just so Dribbs could hear him.

“Wardrobe adjustments were requested. Designs have been altered. Colors discussed. And every maid in the house has been commandeered to assist.”

“Really?”

Dribbs took care as he set Robert’s gloves and hat on the stand. “All the maids from next door have joined as well.” Then there was the sound of running feet down the back staircase. “I believe that is Lady Westland’s dresser.”

Robert frowned. “Lady Westland? From down the street?”

“Indeed.”

“That’s a lot of women.”

Dribbs didn’t need to answer. His expression was more than enough to convey his opinion.

“Never fear,” Robert said as much to reassure himself as Dribbs. “The wedding is two weeks away. They shall all be gone after that.”

“Really?” Dribbs returned. “I thought they intended to stay for the Season.”

Robert thought back. Oh, yes, that was true. “Well, yes, but they won’t be in this house.”

“I believe they mentioned parties with your mother. I believe,” he added, giving Robert a baleful eye, “that you encouraged the idea.”

Oh, right. That was also true. “Er, well, yes. But the Season won’t last forever. It’ll be over in…in…”

“Seven weeks and three days. Unless it rains on the day of their departure. The baroness has declared she despises traveling on rainy days.”

“Ah. Well, then I suppose I will pray for sun.”

“As will we all, my lord.”

Robert hid his grin as he moved down the hallway. Usually he would head straight for the library, but today he paused, then headed up the stairs instead. He couldn’t actually hear Helaine’s voice amid the general noise, but he had to see her. The need was growing stronger every second that he waited.

He never made it to the door. There were too many women peering inside the upstairs parlor. Maids he’d never seen before, all talking. It reminded him of a cockfight with everyone shoving and straining to see. Except that it was inside his house and everyone was female. And presumably, at the very center were not two aggressive birds, but his relations and Helaine.

Fortunately, his status as owner of the house bought him some breathing room. The onlookers magically melted away from him, though he did detect a few resentful glares. Eventually he made it through the door, though not much farther before Gwen hissed at him.

“Robert! Mind your step!”

He froze with one foot raised then looked down. There wasn’t a bare space of floor or furniture in sight. He slowly set his foot backward, forcing him to stand with one foot inside the room and the other outside. But it was enough to give him a good look around.

He counted no less than seven women with perhaps a half dozen others who appeared to be women, though it was hard to tell given that they were buried under mounds of fabric. All he could see was a few mobcaps and round eyes. In the middle of it all stood the dowager baroness, Gwen’s future mother-in-law. She wore a gown that might have been dark red, except that it was buried beneath the drape of three huge black bows. They were so huge, they looked like crows. And on top of it all, the woman wore a monstrosity of a hat.

“My lord!” the woman trilled. “I am so glad you are here! What we need is a man’s opinion.”

Gwen groaned, the sound carrying loudly despite the muffling effect of so much fabric. “Pray not Robert. He hasn’t—”

“No, I think a man’s point of view is just what we need,” came a voice. A beautiful voice. Helaine’s voice.

Robert scanned the room, searching desperately for her in this blinding mess of fabrics. He saw the aunt and the younger sister and more maids, but no Helaine. Until finally she appeared, popping out from behind the huge hat. “Over here, my lord.”

He finally saw her, and his heart swelled. Good Lord, she was beautiful. But tired. He could see it in her eyes. She was tired. And no wonder, given what they had been doing at all hours last night and this morning.

“Mrs. Mortimer,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. But it was so hard when all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and carry her back to bed. “I didn’t see you behind that…behind the…I didn’t see you there.”

“Well, yes. Here I am, and I believe we desperately need your opinion.” Then she turned to the dowager baroness, forcing the woman around to face Robert. “There you go. Now, Lord Redhill, what do you think of this gown?”

He arched a brow. He was supposed to give a polite answer to that? “Um, I am not really counted a leader in fashion.”

“Nonsense!” snapped Helaine from where she stood behind the baroness. “You can give your honest opinion of this.”

He looked back at the gown, then up to Helaine. It took him a moment to realize she was grimacing at him. Trying to tell him something. But what? Oh! She was grimacing. He was supposed to say it looked ugly? But how could he say that about a woman’s gown?

“Well,” he began, “I do think…I mean…it is not really to my tastes.”

“It is the bows, isn’t it?” asked the baroness.

He glanced at Helaine, who was nodding. “Oh, yes,” he said. “The bows are—”

“The wrong color, aren’t they? Too dark. What about an orange? Would that be better?”

Behind her, Helaine was shaking her head.

“Er, no,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t think the color is the problem.”

Helaine smiled.

“Perhaps it’s the size—”

Helaine’s eyes widened in horror.

“No, no!” he gasped before the baroness could say anything. “It’s not the size. It’s that…well…”

Helaine was mimicking something. Her hands were rising up. As if getting taller? Looking to the sky? Oh! Lifting off!

“Do you know, I believe no bows would be perfect. Can I see the gown without the bows?”

Helaine gifted him with a beaming smile. Good Lord, but she struck him dumb when she did that. Meanwhile, another woman began unpinning the bows, only to reveal a wrap of lace underneath.

“What about the lace, my lord?” asked the baroness.

He glanced at Helaine, who again mimicked taking something off.

“Oh, no,” he drawled. “I’m afraid that’s much too…too…”

“Too little?” asked the baroness hopefully.

Helaine was shaking her head.

“Too much,” he said. “Pray remove that as well.”

The baroness actually pouted a bit, but she dutifully lifted her arms while the lace was removed. And then there she stood, an elegant woman in a simple gown of deepest red.

“Absolutely stunning,” he breathed. Only to be stopped short as Helaine furiously shook her head and pointed to the hat. “Oh, wait!” he cried. “Take off that hat. It’s hideous, you know.”

Helaine’s mouth dropped open in shock. Beside him, Gwen gasped in horror. Even the ladies behind him tsked like clucking hens. He looked desperately at Helaine. Did she want him to say the hat was lovely?

“Er, perhaps it’s growing on me.”

If his love looked horrified before, now she was practically apoplectic.

“No, no! Not growing on me. I mean…well, I…I don’t like hats! Not at all!”

Helaine stared at him as if he had lost his mind. As did, coincidentally, everyone else in the room. He didn’t dare look behind him to see what the maids thought.

“That is, er…”

Thankfully, Helaine was able to help. “I believe his lordship is saying that as a rule, gentlemen don’t like hats on ladies. They’re usually taller, you know. And so spend a great deal of time avoiding the feathers and such.”

“Yes,” he said much too enthusiastically. “That’s it exactly.”

Then, lest he feel he had successfully navigated the treacherous waters of female fashion, Gwen was there to puncture his ego. “Oh, leave off, Robert. You have said quite enough, thank you.”

Robert turned at his sister’s sharp tone. It wasn’t unusual for her to poke fun at him, but there was an extra bite to her words. “Gwen,” he began, but she waved him away.

“Go, go. You have no business being here anyway.”

“I…,” he began. He could hardly say that he wanted to talk to Helaine. That he wanted to see her again, then whisk her away to another glorious night of exploration. In the end, he executed a stiff bow. “Ladies, I can see that I am de trop.”

Meanwhile, the baroness turned back to him, her eyes as tragic as her tone. “Do you truly not like any hat, my lord?”

He glanced back to Helaine for guidance, but she was occupied with avoiding the flop of what he believed were ostrich feathers and so could not guide him. In the end, he opted for simple honesty.

“Baroness, your skin is clear, your eyes quite pretty. And even your mouth, if I may be so bold, is very expressive. Without you even saying a word, I can tell when you are happy or sad or disapproving or delighted. Why ever would I want to look at ostrich feathers or lace or bows when I could see your face?”

The baroness gaped at him. Helaine, too, straightened up with a look of shocked gratitude on her face. And even Gwen released a gasp of surprise. He didn’t know if he had stuck his foot in it again or not, but he had done his best. So with another bow he took his leave, only to be called back a moment later by Helaine.

“My lord!”

He stopped and leaned back in the room. Nothing on earth would induce him to walk farther inside. “Mrs. Mortimer?”

“I’m afraid I was occupied last night and so missed our discussion. Would you perhaps be available tonight? I am, of course, at your service whatever time you need.”

He almost grinned. Was there ever a more perfect woman? “Oh, yes. Directly after dinner would be ideal. Thank you for reminding me, Mrs. Mortimer.”

Then he bowed again before escaping with all the other men in the household. Indeed, he found them all downstairs with Dribbs, discussing the latest horse races. Thank heaven at last for rational conversation!