The King's Doll Read online

  “You both did me proud,” said the Duke. “What I cannot believe is that any English dressmaker could have fashioned such extremely suitable and becoming garments in the few days you had to prepare yourselves."

  “Oh, these were gowns we brought with us,” said Dani quickly. “As long as they pleased you, Your Grace, we are satisfied."

  The Duke turned a sardonic eye upon his mama's less tasteful garment. When she refused to meet his look, he said softly, “May I dare to hope that you are as excellently prepared for the ball I am giving in your honor next week?"

  “Oh, yes,” smiled Dani. “We thought it would not matter that our dresses were not new, since of course they will be new to everyone who sees them here in London.” And in very much better style than anything we have yet observed here, she thought, but had too much courtesy to say it.

  The Duchess, aware that a reckoning loomed ahead for her, made haste to introduce a pleasanter subject. “The Princess Mary seemed much taken with your daughter, madame,” she said to Dani. “It could be an advantage to you to promote the friendship."

  “She was very pleasant,” agreed Tiri, “and I think, very lonely."

  “She is not at all well,” the Duchess informed them. “Her father is said to dote upon her, as on all his daughters, and is quite medieval in his care of them. I hear the girls call their quarters ‘The Nunnery.’”

  “We have heard the King is a strict but loving father,” said Dani. It seemed to her that she was always feeling compelled to intervene at awkward moments. The relationship between mother and son was a bitter one. Dani wished that Louis had fobbed them off on a more gentle family. She sighed.

  Tiri, who had been as aware as her maman had been of the undercurrents of antagonism which flowed constantly between her hostess and the Duke, was wishing much the same thing. Still, it would not be forever. For Maman's sake she could endure it. She set her mind to think of the things she could do for Dani once she was safely wedded to some acceptable parti. This led to the less welcome speculation as to the personal qualities of the said parti. What if she disliked him? Even hated him? Even more demeaning, what if no one offered? Sunk in these wretched musings, she was quite unconscious that the Duke had transferred his searching scrutiny to her down-bent face.

  “You were not pleased, mam'selle?” he challenged. They had heard a good deal of soft talk from the mother; he wondered what the daughter had to say for herself.

  Tiri faced his scrutiny bravely. “I was most happy to talk with the Princess. She is a sweet girl, and seemed eager to talk about Paris. Her papa, she tells me, does not believe in any of his children traveling. There was much she wished to know."

  “I hope you did not say anything damaging,” sneered the Duchess.

  Tiri colored and fell silent.

  Again Dani sprang into the breach. “I was presented to the Prince of Wales,” she said chattily. “He seems a pleasant and warm-hearted young man."

  “Oh, as to that,” the Duchess could not repress the taunt, “he is known to have an especially warm heart toward—older women!” and she gave a malicious titter.

  This gaucherie effectively silenced conversation for the rest of the mercifully short drive to the Duchess's gloomy mansion. The Duke, meticulous in escorting all three ladies within doors, took his leave with unflattering promptness. Since neither Dani nor Tiri had any stomach for the unpleasant company of their hostess, they begged at once to be excused and hurried upstairs to their uncomfortable suite. To their surprise, a fire had been laid in their cavernous grate, and they were scarcely inside the door when a gentle tapping heralded the arrival of Mrs. Dodge, the housekeeper, with a small tray of hot cocoa and some biscuits. It was meager fare, but they fell on it with thanks, having been too nervous to eat well of the miserable collation served at lunch. Mrs. Dodge came back for the tray, and her unusual behavior caused Tiri to think the housekeeper had news to impart. She was correct.

  “It's His Grace,” the woman began, holding the tray in front of her like a shield, and glancing over her shoulder as though expecting an invading army to come through the door. “He wishes you and your daughter, ma'am, to come to his new house for dinner tomorrow night. Just so as you can get to know the place before the ball. He feels it would be more comfortable."

  “That's kind of him,” stated Tiri in a voice which revealed her surprise.

  “Will there be many guests?” asked Dani, her eyes beginning to sparkle.

  “Just you two, I'm told,” the woman muttered. “His Grace asked me not to tell the Duchess."

  “But if Lady Letitia is not to accompany us, how shall we get there?” asked Tiri practically.

  “Her Grace goes out to play cards with some other members of her family tomorrow night. When he learned you ladies were not included in the invitation, he decided to entertain you himself. He instructed me to tell you he would send a carriage at eight o'clock, by which time Her Grace should be on her way to Lady Mall's."

  Tiri's expression revealed clearly what she thought of such a shab-rag family, but she pressed her lips firmly together. When the housekeeper had slipped out the door with a conspiratorial air that sent Dani off into giggles, Tiri said sternly, “It is not laughable, Maman, it is deplorable!"

  “Better to laugh than weep,” advised Dani, becoming more sober. “Well, my poppet, the Presentation went off tolerably well, I thought. You were in great beauty, my dear one. Everyone's eyes were drawn to the lovely French rose. Had I been able to get lilies, I might have made you truly representational of our beloved France!"

  Tiri chuckled. “I'd best be thankful for small mercies!"

  Dani became thoughtful. “So we are to go to dine with His Grace tomorrow night,” she mused. “I wonder what he has in that devious mind of his?"

  “You don't like him?” ventured the girl.

  Dani pursed her lips. “I believe I am a little in fear of him,” she admitted. “He has all the determination—self-will, rather—of his mama, yet he is so charming—"

  “The Duke? Charming?” protested Tiri. “How can you say so?” Then, more lightly, “I thought you were under the spell of another man.” She could not understand her own reluctance to accept the fact that the Duke was to become another victim to her beautiful mother's allure. She hated the arrogant, unpleasant, cold, unwelcoming man!—But she didn't want him to follow Dani with besotted or lecherous eyes, as so many had done.

  Dani was frowning at her daughter's evident distress. “What is it, poupée? Have I done something to hurt you?"

  “No, of course not, Maman. It was only that I had not realized you had changed your affections from Hilary to the Duke."

  “But I have not, foolish one! Sir Hilary is the only man I have ever met whom I truly desire to wed. I merely remarked that His Grace has charm—and fortitude too, to endure that she-witch who is his mother! Do you hate him so much?"

  “He hates me,” said the girl a little wearily. “And despises me, too. I am a burden he cannot wait to be rid of!"

  Dani scanned the small, desolate countenance carefully, but said nothing more about their reluctant host.

  The following evening, all went smoothly at first. The Duchess went to her card party, dropping the announcement of her intentions casually as the three women shared a cup of tea and biscuits in the cavernous drawing room. She seemed a little piqued at her guests’ lack of response to her cavalier announcement, but she shrugged and left them sitting there when she retired to change her dress for the party.

  When she was safely out the door, the two Frenchwomen hastily changed their own charming day dresses for apparel more suitable to a formal dinner.

  “We shall not lower our standards, my dear—at least, as long as our present wardrobes are fit to wear,” she concluded ruefully.

  She was looking particularly radiant tonight, Tiri thought, in a pretty gown of lavender silk over cream sprigged muslin: a dress few other women of her age could have worn without looking absurd. On Dani it was
adorable, Tiri decided, scanning her own russet velvet with critical eyes.

  “It sets off your hair superbly,” her maman advised. Neither of them had bothered to powder their lovely locks for this private dinner.

  They were scarcely ready when Mrs. Dodge came up to announce that the Duke's carriage was at the door. “You both look very nice, ma'am, if you'll pardon my taking the liberty to say so,” she added, with little grace but real sincerity. Dani's lovely smile seemed to repay her for the compliment, and she bobbed them an awkward curtsey as they left their rooms.

  The drive to Grosvenor Square was short, and they were impressed by the myriad lanterns, flambeaux, and candles that seemed to illuminate the handsome building both within and without. A red carpet stretched across the damp flagstones, and two footmen were waiting to escort His Grace's guests into the impressive front hall.

  There the butler took charge and led them into a drawing room which quite took Tiri's breath away. Her host, catching the wide-eyed stare, was forced to suppress a grin. He welcomed his guests pleasantly enough, and informed them that they would proceed to the dining room without loss of time, since he wanted them to be safely back at Mall House before his mother returned.

  The Duke had them seated around a small round table and he waited until the first course had been served before broaching the reason for the invitation.

  Dani had just finished murmuring a compliment upon the excellence of the Potage à la Monglas. “Louis loves this soup,” she said. “Your chef is to be congratulated."

  His Grace brushed the compliment aside. “It is important that we discuss our business while the servants are out of the room,” he began. “You will have noticed, of course, that I signaled them to leave after the soup was served. It may be our only chance to be private away from my mother or her spies before the ball."

  Tiri gaped at her host. “Your mother sets spies upon you?” she breathed.

  “I know of at least one footman who reports to her regularly. I permit this so that I can know whom to watch. However, that is not to the point. I would like a full and honest summary of your real purpose in coming to England.” As he caught the astounded glances they exchanged he laughed harshly. “Already Mr. Pitt has had a report that you may be here as the agents for some faction of Louis's court, or even the revolutionary forces which threaten him. I must ask you if this is, in fact, correct."

  “We are here because King Louis wished to be rid of the embarrassment of my presence at Court,” Dani stated quietly, her fine eyes fixed steadily upon the Duke's face.

  His expression softened. “I believe you,” he said, more gently than was his wont. “From all that I have observed, you are here to make an advantageous marriage for your daughter, and in some way establish yourself in England. In this endeavor I am willing to help you, especially since you both behaved with elegance and decorum at your presentation to Their Majesties. Princess Mary took a decided fancy to Mademoiselle de Granville—and Prinny had his eye upon you, madame. I had better warn you,” he added in a lowered voice, “that encouraging our Prince will lead you to social disaster."

  “I have not encouraged him,” protested Dani. “I could hardly walk away while he was speaking to me!"

  “A woman of your talent?” mocked the Duke. “I am sure you have handled noblemen more adept than our Prinny!"

  “I happen to be—committed to another man,” Dani said slowly. “When Tiri is settled..."

  “Good,” said the Duke heartily.

  Further private conversation was suspended until the covers had been removed and a second course offered.

  When they were alone again, Dani returned to the battle. “I wonder if I might ask a favor of Your Grace,” she began. “There is a certain minor nobleman whom we would like to see at your ball.” Her courage seemed to escape her under his suddenly hardening glance.

  “And who might this ... minor nobleman be?"

  “His name is Hilary Conray,” said Dani.

  The Duke did not miss Tiri's gasp and her glance of warning at her mother. He drew his own conclusions. They did not seem to be pleasant ones, from the expression upon his face.

  “Conray? Hilary? I think I may have heard of him.” He cast a disapproving glance at Tiri. “If I may offer a suggestion, madame, I would urge you not to select Sir Hilary Conray as a parti for Mademoiselle."

  Now it was Dani's turn to suffer surprise. She opened her mouth to enlighten her host, and then seemed to think better of it. Instead she asked, rather humbly, “Is there something wrong ... something not comme il faut, about Sir Hilary?"

  “He is not the parti for a young girl with her way to make in Polite Society,” he said shortly. “I can promise nothing, of course, but I hope to be able to introduce your daughter to more acceptable aspirants for her hand."

  “What is wrong with Sir Hilary?” Tiri could not resist demanding. Her poor mother was looking so deflated that she sprang naturally to her defense. Unfortunately the Duke thought that she was offended by an imagined slur upon her beloved. He glanced at the girl with strong disapproval.

  “There is nothing really wrong with the fellow,” he said brusquely. “He is a Scotsman, poor, a wandering sort of adventurer. Not at all the type to settle comfortably into matrimony."

  His lips curled in mockery at the suddenly depressed look upon both lovely faces. He went on speaking in that dry tone Tiri hated. “Perhaps it might also be well to warn you that the Prince of Wales is notorious for his susceptibility to beautiful, knowledgeable matrons older than himself."

  The attention of both ladies was now sharply fixed upon the Duke. Tiri wondered if the English prince had decided to use this nobleman to convey an offer to the French countess. She was quickly reassured, as His Grace continued, “Prinny considers himself to be a romantic, with a soft heart for lovers and a right to pry into anyone's private business. He has indicated to me that he would be pleased if I were to offer for Mademoiselle de Granville."

  Surprise and incredulity were plain to read upon the women's faces. Smiling sardonically, the Duke awaited their comments.

  Tiri spoke first. “You cannot be serious?” she breathed. “How much control over you has this idiot?"

  His Grace's mocking smile faded. He had, of course, neither the desire nor the intention of martrying the little French girl, yet in the face of her angry revulsion he felt a prick of annoyance and something else he did not identify. He knew himself to be a rich prize in the Matrimonial Stakes, and although he was no coxcomb, he could not fail to realize his worth: well-born, wealthy, and good to look upon. Lady Bridget Mall was not the only young woman who persistently pursued him. Why, then, was this little French chit so angry at the idea of an arranged marriage with him? Most débutantes would have given a good deal to have Prinny trying to push the Duke of Lansdale into matrimony with them.

  “He has no control over me at all,” he answered her question. “I had thought the idea might amuse you-as it did me.” That should show her! “You probably should be warned that he may make some heavy-handed and fairly urgent proposals to your mama. In his own behalf,” he added nastily.

  “I can deal with him,” promised Dani, anxious to change the subject before Tiri gave away any secrets. “Was there anything else you felt we should know, Your Grace?"

  “I wondered whether my mother had given you the funds set aside for your expenses during the Season."

  Dani's expression was wary. Had he learned in some devious way of Hilary's generous gesture? “Funds, sir? From what source?"

  “Does it matter? You have received them?"

  “No.” The less said here, the better.

  The man's features darkened. “I feared as much. I shall make inquiries."

  “We—we do not need your money,” objected Tiri.

  “Who said it was mine?” challenged the Duke. He regarded her with disfavor. “You have a great deal to say, for so young a girl! Is this forward behavior the style in Paris?"

  Tiri se
t her teeth against an angry retort. “I am sorry if I have offended your sense of propriety,” she managed to say.

  Dani smothered a smile. They were like two children bickering. Tiri seemed to have taken the man in strong dislike. She considered the Prince's suggestion that Granville make Tiri an offer. It was not so absurd an idea, in her judgment, as the Duke had implied. She said quietly, “If there is nothing more to discuss, Your Grace, perhaps Tiri and I should be returning to Mall House."

  They went out into the magnificent hall, where six footmen in powdered wigs stood statuelike against the paneled walls, and the butler himself had the ladies’ light cloaks ready.

  “Your home is delightful,” murmured Dani, offering her hand to be kissed.

  “Thank you for a most pleasant evening,” said Tiri in a too-sweet voice. She was not going to invite another set-down from the hateful nobleman on the subject of her manners.

  CHAPTER 6

  As the day of the Duke's Grand Ball approached, it became clear that the Beau Monde was aware of the dazzling new star which had appeared upon the scene. The Royal Family spoke well of the French girl's modesty and beauty. One heard that Princess Mary had asked her royal papa to invite the girl to visit her. Invitations began to arrive at Mall House in increasing numbers, to the Duchess's mingled chagrin and pleasure. Gentlemen, and a few ladies, came to call. Among the latter were Lady Bridget and her mama, Letitia's life-long friend, who was tetchy at the idea that Letitia had not warned her of this newcomer she was sponsoring.

  Attending upon his mother and sister was Lord Bertram Mall. He was much inferior in appeal to His Grace the Duke of Lansdale, decided Tiri who had been haled down with her mama to meet the guests. He was rather a dandy and seemed a little too conscious of his elaborate get-up. Still, he was jovial and attentive, and he uttered so many little compliments that Tiri felt more at ease than she had yet found herself in English Society.

  While Lady Mall and Bridget chatted with the Countess, Bertram settled himself for a quick conquest of the little French girl. He was not yet sure of her dowry—Mama was investigating that aspect and could be trusted to track it down to the last farthing. The girl's appearance, on the other hand, was such as to cause him to dismiss the apprehensions he had felt when his indomitable mama had instructed him to pay court to the French miss so she would not trap the Duke. The Duke was to be Bridget's. Mama and Lady Letitia had long planned that. His rather moist glance moved over the small, pretty face and down to the sweetly budding breasts and slender waist, all set off by a morning dress of style and charm. Bertram's mama and sister never looked so well when surprised at home by early visitors. Bertram licked his lips. This was not going to be so bad! He began to follow his mother's careful instructions.