Rebecca was surprised by her request but readily agreed to keep the secret. If the duchess did not want her husband around, who was Rebecca to argue? “He always fusses.”
The housekeeper herself came to answer the summons in a rush.
While Mrs. Brown looked after the duchess, Rebecca observed the woman her father had married. She’d lost weight since they’d first met, on account of the babe most likely. Although the duchess’ health was none of her business, she made a request to the housekeeper before she left the room. “Would you have Cook bake flatbread with a little honey mixed in for the duchess to nibble on?”
“Of course,” the housekeeper nodded enthusiastically and rushed away to do her bidding.
“My sister-in-law swears by it,” she explained to the duchess.
“Thank you. I’m willing to try anything to make this sickness stop.”
“Oh, it won’t stop you casting up your accounts, but it will feed you up a little more.”
“I was so hoping for a cure,” the duchess admitted with a weary laugh. “I should know this, but should we add your husband’s family to the wedding guest list?”
Rebecca shook her head quickly. They were not fond of her. They had taken Warner’s side when his affair with their housekeeper had become known. They had blamed Rebecca for his actions, accusing her of abandoning her marriage and her husband. Of driving him into the only arms that welcomed him. They were quite ridiculous because that was not correct. “We are not on the best terms.”
“I can sympathize.” The duchess sighed. “When it became known that I had married so well, I received a begging letter from my late husband’s family.”
Rebecca was not surprised. “Did you give them very much?”
“I gave them what they gave me when Thorpe died. Five shillings, and then I reminded them of their request that I never contact them again.”
Despite her reluctance to like the duchess, Rebecca wholeheartedly approved. Perhaps they were not so dissimilar after all. “A good response.”
She turned away and spread the papers out on the table.
“What can I do to help you there?”
“For now, nothing, your grace. But later there will be much to talk about and for you to approve. Rest now,” Rebecca suggested gently. She may never love the duchess as her sisters did, but she did not wish great ill upon her. “Sleep if you can while father is gone. Only time will stop the babe affecting you.”
“I’ll try, but it is so difficult to be idle. I’ve never been very good at doing nothing.”
“I am the same.”
The duchess fell silent. After ten minutes, Rebecca turned in her chair to look at the woman her father now loved. The duchess had fallen fast asleep, her arms curled around a small pillow, but the rounded curve of her belly where the child lay was clear. In sleep, Gillian Westfall seemed…not quite the villain Rebecca had once thought she might turn out to be.
She would make an adequate duchess if she continued to speak out against the duke’s excessive spending, too. Father was generous to those he loved, but so far it seemed the duchess was sensible and could stop him.
Rebecca studied the list her father had given her, appalled by the extravagance he’d initially wanted. Did he not think of the future? It was his responsibility to pass the estate to his heir in the best possible condition.
And what of this next child to come? If a son was born, an education, the trappings of a gentlem
an and a healthy allowance must be given. If there were another daughter, the girl would require a dowry. Father had always been too generous to his offspring, in her opinion. A large enough dowry meant an advantageous marriage was a certainty, but it did not guarantee happiness.
She pressed her lips together as unexpected anger coursed through her.
Happiness was always short-lived and never should be taken for granted.
But a tear still slipped down Rebecca’s cheek that happiness had eluded her.
She wiped it away as she glanced at the new Duchess of Stapleton’s expanding belly. Now was not the time to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. Her grace was lucky to have found a new life filled with love. Rebecca was not likely to ever be so lucky.
She only attracted drunken sots.
Chapter 5
One of Adam’s favorite pastimes in London was patronizing the craftsmen who hawked their wares to an exclusive clientele. His favorite tailor was on Old Bond Street and was much sought after by those in society. Weston’s was a fashionable place to spend a few hours, and he met friends there, too, sometimes. Here in the country, a gentleman must rely upon the local merchants to keep up appearances. But at least here, tailors would call upon a gentleman in his home.