Fascinated, Maxie said, "Yet society accepted you."
The duchess smiled wickedly. "Luckily Rafe numbers Medusa among his ancestors. When someone displeases him, he can turn them to stone with a glance. From the beginning, he made it clear that anyone who was rude to me was doomed."
Maxie laughed. "Did he petrify the Whitbourne relation who gave you the statuette of the Laocoon?"
"Not quite, but their paths crossed at a ball soon after, and the female in question has been amazingly polite ever since."
"You make a life here seem possible," Maxie said soberly.
"If you want it, it is within your grasp." The duchess regarded her shrewdly. "Are you ready to try your social wings? I'm having a small dinner party tonight It won't be one of Rate's political entertainments, merely a few couples who are close friends and genuinely nice people. You don't have to attend, but if you're willing to try, I can also invite your aunt and Robin's brother so there will be a few familiar faces."
So soon? Quelling her first reaction of panic, Maxie said, "Tonight is as good a time as any."
"Well done! Truly, I think you'll enjoy yourself."
Perhaps she would, but even that would not be enough to dispel the black fog that still clouded her future. The mere thought was enough to dim Maxie's enjoyment of the afternoon.
Refusing to give in to anxiety, she gestured toward the fur ball on the adjacent chair. "Is that a cat or a muff?"
"A cat, Rex by name."
Maxie scrutinized the featureless black fur. "Is he ill? He hasn't moved since I got here an hour and a half ago."
"Don't worry, he isn't dead, just tired." Margot chuckled. "Very, very tired."
Knowing he was the center of attention, Rex stretched luxuriously, revealing a portly feline body. Then he rolled onto his back, four tufted feet aloft as he returned to his nap.
Any lingering tension in the room dissolved as the two women laughed together. Maxie decided that no matter what the future held, she was very glad to have made Margot's acquaintance.
Maxima's departure left Desdemona in a happy state of mental and verbal satisfaction. It had been duty that originally sent her after an unknown niece. Now it was a pleasure to discover the real Maxie, who was far more interesting than the insipid imaginary maiden whom Desdemona had thought needed rescuing.
As they had talked, Desdemona had come to recognize that her brother had found contentment in the eccentric life he had chosen. The knowledge pleased her. Perhaps it was being in London that had made him seem distracted when he had visited.
Desdemona had also discovered a resemblance, both mental and physical, between Max and his daughter. It was in her niece's face when she laughed, and in her eclectic education and lively mind. There were those who would think that Maximus Collins had wasted his life, but the daughter he had raised was not a bad memorial to his mortal span.
Lord Robert had also been a pleasant surprise. He was obviously more than willing to do the gentlemanly thing by Maxima, and the girl herself was not indifferent to him.
It would be an excellent match. Desdemona lay back on the sofa and beamed at the ceiling, chastising herself for having such an unprogressive thought. She was a modern, independent woman and had been fully prepared to support her niece if the girl didn't want to marry the man who had compromised her.
But obviously such support would be unnecessary, and not only because Maxima was quite capable of managing her own affairs. In the last few day Desdemona had begun to think that marriage was not necessarily a bad thing, at least not when it was founded on mutual respect and affection.
Her smile broadened as she had another unworthy thought. Lord Robert was wealthy, intelligent, handsome, his character was-unconventional but honorable- and he was from the very highest rank of society. Althea would be absolutely apoplectic if her despised halfbreed niece married such a supremely eligible man. It was a delightful prospect
Desdemona allowed herself a few more minutes of beatific contemplation before going to her study and applying herself to the correspondence that had accumulated in her absence. As she worked her way through the pile, she noted how much of it was related to her work. When had she stopped having time for her friends? She must enlarge the boundaries of her life.
Toward the end of the afternoon, the parlor maid came with a note. "This has just been delivered, my lady. The footman is waiting. Will you be sending a response?"
Desdemona scanned the note. It was from the Duchess of Candover, inviting her to a small dinner party that evening. Since Miss Collins might feel shy among so many strangers, the duchess hoped that Lady Ross would honor them with her presence. Almost as an afterthought, she mentioned that Lord Wolverton had also been invited.
It was charmingly written. Though Desdemona knew the duke from her political work, she had not yet met his new wife. It was good of the duchess to be so considerate of her houseguest's situation. Desdemona scribbled out an acceptance and handed it to her maid to take to the waiting footman.
Then panic set in. Merciful heaven, what would she wear? She rang for her personal maid.
Recovered from the cold she had contracted in the Midlands, Sally Griffin responded with bright-eyed interest. After bobbing a curtsy, she said, "Is there a problem, my lady?"
"Tonight I will be dining at Candover House, Sally. My niece is staying there, and the duchess was kind enough to invite me, so I could satisfy myself that Miss Collins is in good hands." Desdemona hesitated, then continued selfconsciously, "We have only a few hours. Do you think any of my gowns could be altered to be more… more… fashionable?"
Sally's eyes lit up. "Do you mean you're finally willing to flaunt what the good Lord gave you? I've always said there's not a lady in London with a figure to match yours."
As Desdemona blushed, the abigail continued, "I've always thought that with a bit of altering the Devonshire brown silk would be smashing. But there's no time to waste."
Before her mistress could have second thoughts, the abigail seized her hand and tugged her to the stairs. "When I was turned off without a reference, I would have starved or had to go on the streets if you hadn't been willing to take me on. I've wanted a chance to do something special for you ever since. Tonight you'll be as fine as five pence, or my name isn't Sally Griffin."
Half protesting, Desdemona let herself be swept along. Giving Sally free rein might prove to be a disaster, but it was a good guess that the result would not be boring.
And the one thing she did not want was for Giles to be bored.
Chapter 30
Lavalle, the French maid, had dressed and coiffed Maxie, then left to see to the duchess' toilette. The unfortunate result of having only one lady's maid for two ladies was that the lady who was done first was left with the time to work up a good set of nerves.
Maxie knew it was foolish to worry so much about a dinner party. Whether or not she got through it without disgracing herself and Robin was a minor issue in the great scheme of things. Her father's death and the unresolved relationship between her and Robin were far more important. Nonetheless, she paced, occasionally muttering to herself the duchess' advice: Never apologize for what you are.
It was a relief to hear a knock at the door. Thinking it was Lavalle returning to correct some oversight, she called, "Come in."
In walked Robin, as nonchalant as if they were in a Midlands barn instead of a duke's mansion. Dressed in formal evening wear, he looked good enough to eat.
He raised his brows in mock surprise. "Sorry, miss. I was looking for someone who had been dragged through a bush backward, but I appear to have come to the wrong room."