Of Bentley there was no sign; according to Foster the young man had been out until the small hours at some social function or other and would not rise until midday. Alexander detected a stiffness in his ancient butler. In fact there was generally an unwelcome atmosphere amongst all the staff. They were not any less attentive, but no-one met his eyes or smiled when he approached as they once did.
No doubt it was because they had been obliged to stay in London looking after Bentley. The groom who delivered the post every day would have taken back the information that Brown was butler at Newcomb and Watkins was the housekeeper. He must reassure them they were not to be turned out to fend for themselves. This was one reason he’d seen his legal people. His elderly retainers could now retire secure in the knowledge they had a good annuity and might live in comfort for their remaining days.
He flicked through the pile of invitations pleased he was obviously back on the guest list of the hostesses who had dropped him while he was drinking and gambling so disgracefully. Perhaps he would attend one or two of the events; he would like to let people know he was a father again and that he and Isobel were happy.
The reply from Gloria arrived later that afternoon. She suggested they met at Vauxhall Gardens, as there was to be a spectacular firework display to mark some anniversary or other. It would probably be wise to meet in public and not visit her house as this might be misconstrued. He wrote a quick reply agreeing to meet her at nine o’clock.
Bentley drifted into the drawing-room as Alexander was preparing to leave. “Your grace, I beg your pardon for not having written to you to congratulate you on the birth of Lady Lucinda. I hope that both mother and baby are doing well?”
“They are, thank you, Bentley. I hope you’ll come down for the baptism. Your accommodation will be finished by then and you can spend the summer with us if that’s what you would like to do.”
The young man nodded and smoothed his blue and gold striped waistcoat lovingly. “I had intended to come back with you, your grace, but will postpone my visit until the house party if that’s what you would prefer. I see you’re about to go out. Are you going to Lady Simmons soiree?”
“No, I’m meeting friends at Vauxhall Gardens. It seems there is to be a firework display that should not be missed.”
“I might well see you there later; if not then we shall meet tomorrow. I bid you good evening, your grace.”
Alexander left the house seething. God’s teeth, one would think he was the hanger on and Bentley the duke. It had not been such a good idea to leave the young man in sole residence in Grosvenor Square. He’d got ideas above his station. Tomorrow he would put the young man straight but tonight he must speak to Gloria. The thought of being able to make love to his darling girl without fear of a second pregnancy was reason enough to renew his acquaintance with his former mistress.
Chapter Twenty-one
Alexander sent a letter from London saying he was delayed and would not be returning until the following week. Isobel was disappointed as she had been persevering with the binding and was almost free from unwanted milk. If she avoided Lucinda’s feed times she could safely spend several hours with her baby daughter.
“Ellie, can you start altering my gowns? Now I’ve regained my original form I no longer need to have them so full in the chest.”
Her maid looked up from her task. “I had thought you might like to leave them as they are, my lady, you have a closet full of beautiful gowns that you’ve not worn.”
“You’re quite correct. Why don’t you put the ones I wore during my pregnancy at the back of my closet?” She knew the girl was thinking her mistress might well be increasing again by the end of the year.
Her pulse raced just thinking about the possibility. An image of Alexander proudly naked in her bed sent a wave of heat from head to toe. Ellie was looking her eyes wide with concern. “Are you feeling unwell, my lady, have you got a fever?”
Isobel forced her thoughts away from bed sport. “I feel a little overheated, I shall take a walk in the garden to cool down.”
“Very well, my lady.”
Isobel enjoyed her stroll and was ready to continue with perusing more lists with Mary. A footman held out a silver salver upon which was a letter. “This arrived a few minutes ago, your grace.”
She paused in the window to read the letter. The missive was brief but said everything it should.
My darling wife,
I am desolated that I have further business to attend to before I can be with you. I am returning next week. I have the information we both wanted. I can’t wait to try out the
efficacy of this with you.
Your devoted husband
In the post script he’d scribbled the names and number of some extra guests. She had no notion why he’d gone to Grosvenor Square; no doubt he would explain when he was with her next week. The season was over, the main reason for his visit had been to speak with his friend and discover how fashionable ladies avoided yearly babies. Obviously he had been successful. The staff must know the names of the extra guests so she had better speak to Mary immediately.
The next week dragged. She rode for an hour or two every morning, spent time with Lucinda, oversaw the arrangements for the house party, but still Alexander’s arrival seemed no nearer. A second missive arrived unexpectedly from her aunt and uncle. It appeared they would be in the vicinity a week earlier than planned and would now be arriving the day before her husband.
She sighed. She longed to see her relatives and could not ask them to languish in a hostelry whilst she and Alexander… she could hardly bear to think of what they might be doing. It sent her dizzy with excitement. Newcomb was vast; surely they could be private somewhere?
The house was looking as welcoming as it could. She’d filled the chambers with flowers and the furniture and glass sparkled in the sunlight. The extra indoor staff necessary for such a grand house party would be arriving the next morning from Grosvenor Square. She wondered how they would adjust to the new regime. Bill, (she could still not think of him as Brown) limped towards her. She scarcely noticed his infirmity nowadays. She was confident everything was running smoothly and the staff would not let her down.
“Your grace, Mrs Watkins and I’ve trained three footmen and three maids to act as valets or abigails for any of the guests who might not have brought their own. I hope this will be satisfactory.”
“Whatever you have arranged will be acceptable. Look, I believe I can see a carriage coming up the drive. Did Sir John and Lady Illingworth’s luggage cart arrive earlier this morning?”
“It did, my lady, and the trunks are unpacked and their apartments ready.” He hesitated before continuing. “I’ve put all single gentlemen on one side of the house and the young ladies on the other.”
Her lips twitched. Good grief! Did he really think this was the kind of house party where the gentlemen prowled the corridors looking for their lovers?
Smiling to herself she returned to the drawing-room to wait. She’d checked her appearance a dozen times that morning. She was wearing a new leaf-green muslin, perfect for a hot, summer’s day.
Eventually Bill stepped in to announce her aunt and uncle, Cousin Petunia, Cousin James and a stranger. This young gentleman was obviously Petunia’s intended.
“My dear girl, you look wonderful. One would not know that you’re now the proud mother of an infant daughter.” Aunt Lucy embraced her fondly. “Is your husband not here.”