Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I don’t look like myself,” I said, still awed by the transformation that had occurred ever since I had arrived at Wheaton.
Having Lydia and Geraldine here pleased me greatly. Over the course of the last few days, I had settled into a comfortable, familiar routine. I no longer felt quite as much like a stranger or a usurper at Wheaton. I no longer woke each morning thinking I was in a dream.
It was real, as real as my reflection staring back at me was.
I wasn’t a maid, beneath my father’s thumb, forced to do his bidding. Instead, I was the next Marchioness of Wheaton.
“You look as you were always meant to look,” Lydia corrected me gently. “You are a lady, Maddie. You were born a lady, and Lord Barnett stole that from you when he forced you to serve as a maid. Soon, I shall be calling you Lady Wheaton.”
I spun away from my reflection. “You’ll do no such thing. You are to call me Maddie always. We are friends.”
“I am your lady’s maid.”
“You are like a sister to me.”
Lydia smiled, shaking her head. “You’ve a heart of pure gold, Maddie, that you do. I’m just thankful that his lordship is willing to offer me this situation. It’s far more than I could have hoped for at Cliffwood.”
“The marquess is a kind and generous man,” I said, feeling my cheeks go warm as I thought of the man I would soon be marrying.
Our days had been filled with getting to know each other. The more I learned, the more I respected and admired him. He was everything I had supposed him to be—and more.
“Edward tells me that the marquess is a fine and honorable gentleman, that you could not hope for a better husband.”
I took note of the familiar way Lydia spoke of the marquess’s steward at once.
“Edward?”
A pink flush tinged Lydia’s cheeks. “Mr. Warwick, that is. Forgive me. I should not have been so bold.”
I wondered if I would be losing my friend as my lady’s maid so soon after she had been granted the position. Selfishly, I hoped not. Having Lydia at my side had been a much-needed reassurance. I missed our time in the garret room, though not the inferior lack of comfort. Still, I would never stand in the way of my dear friend’s happiness.
A sudden, unpleasant thought occurred to me then. While I had begun to trust the marquess, I knew almost nothing of his steward.
“Lydia, Mr. Warwick was not unseemly, was he? He didn’t behave in an improper manner toward you when you were at the coaching inn, did he?”
“Of course not,” she reassured me. “Mr. Warwick has been a true gentleman to Geraldine and myself both. We were grateful for his escort. You mustn’t think ill of him because of my own mistake.”
There was a protectiveness in her voice that I had only heard previously when she had been taking my side in battles with Mrs. Wells back at Cliffwood. I stared at my friend, thinking that this was an interesting development indeed. It was plain to see that she had burgeoning feelings for Mr. Warwick. But I wouldn’t poke my nose into the matter further for now. There would be time aplenty for that later.
I had a dinner to attend.
“I don’t think ill of him,” I promised. “Now tell me, have you finished turning this sow’s ear into a silk purse? I should hate to be late for dinner, what with his lordship’s guests in attendance.”
“You are not, nor have you ever resembled, anything close to a sow’s ear,” Lydia told me, smiling. “You’re beautiful, Maddie.”
“You flatter me because you are my friend.”
“No, I tell you the truth because I am your friend.” Her smile deepened. “Moreover, have you ever smelled a sow’s ear? I can assure you that you smell nothing like one.”
I laughed, grateful for the levity. “I should hope not.”
Lydia chuckled. “I’ll just tend to a few things here. Go on. Off to dinner with you.”
I hesitated, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from my skirts. “What if the marquess’s friends disapprove of me?”
Earlier this afternoon, the house had been abuzz with the unexpected arrival of Lord and Lady Beckett, good friends of his lordship. I had only briefly made their acquaintances, for the efficient Mrs. Dougall had instantly sent the viscount and viscountess off to their chambers after their arduous day of travel from London. I was nervous to be seated with them at dinner. What would I have in common with an accomplished lady who was accustomed to the haut ton?
“Why should they disapprove?” Lydia asked, frowning. “You are a credit to his lordship in every way—lovely, intelligent, kindhearted, considerate.”
“I have none of the polish expected of a genteel lady,” I fretted, giving voice to the worries that had been assailing me ever since I had curtsied to Lord and Lady Beckett.