Dukes By the Dozen

When she finally roused, the sun was high in the sky and Susana was sitting in the chair by the window sipping tea. She shot Meg a brilliant smile.

“Oh dear.” Meg swiped the hair from her eyes. “I’ve overslept.”

Susana laughed, a glorious tinkle. “You deserved it. Besides, Mother wants you to be fresh for tonight.”

“Tonight?” she parroted, though she knew the itinerary quite well. Tonight was the welcome party. For the guests. Of which she was now one, apparently.

“The guests have already started arriving,” Susana said. For some reason there was a frown on her beautiful face.

“Have they?”

“Yes.” A snort.

“Susana, darling, whatever is wrong?” Meg knew she should rise from the bed, but it was so warm and comfortable, she just nestled deeper into the down.

“It’s them.”

“Them?”

“The women Mother has invited. I can only assume they are for Jonathan, but seriously, Cicely Peck?”

Yes, Cicely Peck had been on the list of invitations Meg had written. “Do you not like Cicely Peck?”

“Oh, she’s all right, I suppose. But not the sort I want as a sister-in-law.”

“One cannot always choose one’s in-laws.”

“How true that is. But Cicely?”

“Tell me about her.” She hadn’t been around in Meg’s season. She’d probably still been in leading strings then.

“Well, she’s beautiful.”

Lovely. Meg set her hand to her stomach, which, for some reason, had begun to churn.

“And she’s from a good family.”

“Yes. The Pecks.”

“But she’s…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Reptilian?”

Meg burst out laughing and sat up to eye her friend. “Tell me how you really feel,” she jested.

Susana flushed. “I don’t mean to be petty. There’s just something cold and predatory about her.”

“Jonathan isn’t a fool. He will never choose a woman who isn’t warm and sincere.”

“I know.” Susan sighed. “But women often see things in other women that men miss.”

So true. “Who else is here?”

“The Pickerings arrived early. The Mountbattens and the Evertons right after.” Meg nodded. She remembered those families from her season. “And of course, Jonathan’s friends Mattingly and St. Clare arrived last night.”

“Last night?”

Susana huffed. “Christian was up with them ’til all hours and came to bed sotted with brandy and smelling of cheroots.” She put out a lip. “I made him sleep on the divan.”

“Never say you make your husband sleep on the divan!”

“When he smells of cheroots, I do. I made quite clear this nonsense is not to continue.”

“I’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior, now that the party is underway.”

Susana smiled. “Yes. It is. And I cannot wait to get started on you.”

Meg boggled. “On me?”

“Oh yes, darling. Now get up. We have a lot of work to do before tonight!”

HAD she known what Susana had in mind, Meg might have run. Good lord. She’d forgotten how much work it took to prepare for a simple party. There was bathing and powdering and all manner of fiddling with her hair. Susana had brought her hairdresser, but she’d conscripted the dowager’s hairdresser as well because Meg needed to look absolutely perfect.

“Honestly,” she’d complained at one point when one hairdresser tugged her one way and the other another. “I think a simple bun will work.”

They were all—all three of them—horrified.

“A bun will not do,” Susana said. “Companions wear buns. You need an elaborate coif. Remember, you are angling for a high-ranking husband.”

Meg frowned at her. “Am I?”

“Yes. Now hush and let us work.”

Outnumbered, Meg let the possibility of a simple hairdo drop. When they swung her around to face the glass, she was stunned.

It was not Meg Chalmers, companion to the dowager, who looked back. It was some kind of fanciful swan with a long, elegant neck highlighted by an impossibly intricate creation of swirls and curls atop her head.

She stared. “Surely that is not me.”

Susana beamed. “Lovely, isn’t it?” And then, she corrected herself. “Aren’t you? The men will fall at your feet. Oh. Speaking of feet…” She rushed to her dressing room and returned with a pair of blue slippers. “These will match the dress perfectly.”

“Are they yours?”

A twinkle lit her eye. “No. I found them in the attic.”

“In the attic?”

She sobered and fingered the sequins on the shoes. “I think they may have been Tessa’s.”

An ache swelled in her chest. Meg took them reverently and studied them, barely acknowledging the tears in her eyes.

Susana misunderstood her hesitation. “Tessa would want you to wear them.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just… I miss her.”

“We all do. But remember, she’s still with us. In spirit. And Tessa would want you to wear these shoes, dance until your feet ache, and have fun tonight. Don’t you think?”

“Dancing until my feet hurt isn’t all that fun,” she teased with a smile. She could remember that, at least, from her long-ago season.

Susana shot her a grin. “It does depend upon with whom one is dancing.”

Meg chuckled. “I daresay.”

“Come along. Now that your hair is done, let’s get you dressed. I also have some sapphires for you to wear. They will make your eyes shine.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…” It was far too much borrowed finery.

But Susana wouldn’t hear of anything less than perfection.