Free Madrigals And Mistletoe by Hayley A. Solomon

grig when the note from the duchess had arrived. True, too, that she had worn the duke’s posy the instant it was delivered. . . . She looked doubtfully at the colourful dowager duchess. She looked so positive that all her troubling doubts were removed. If Seraphina was attached to the duke and he to her, nothing could be so eligible. A social coup, in fact, though Ancilla did not care the snap of her finger for such things. Still, she loved Seraphina and if there was ought she could do . . .
    The duchess breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Ancilla might be a blockhead at times, but she was the sister of a marquis, and though she had married beneath her, her bloodlines were unimpeachable.
    The duchess leant forward eagerly and Ancilla politely ignored the creaking of her stays.
    â€œNow listen , Ancilla . . .”
    By the time her grace had said her piece, Mrs. Camfrey was left in no doubt as to her role. In a matter of moments the duchess had turned her pleasant, well-ordered life topsy-turvy and upside down. In the scurviest of ways she was to connive and contrive with the bossy old so and so to steer Seraphina into the duke’s sphere of influence.
    Her grace was too cunning to invite Seraphina to a mere house party. Rhaz had foiled her intentions before by his annoying manner of slipping out of town just at the times she most wanted him to stay. No, there would be no muddles and sudden urgent, pressing engagements this time. If her grace wanted to be certain of throwing Seraphina her errant son’s way, there could be only one suitable time to invite the Camfreys.
    A pity it was still two months away, but there, addlepated Ancilla would probably need that time simply to prepare. She must point out to her the necessity for riding habits and chic, understated gowns of shimmering lace. . . . She caught herself up and smiled. No, two months was not so very long, after all. Better a well-laid plan . . .
    â€œYou shall stay with us for Christmas. Doncaster Place, Rhaz’s chief residence, is not seventy miles from London. I shall have two carriages sent round for your baggage and your servants—”
    â€œChristmas!” Ancilla put her hands to her cheeks. She had thought to spend it quietly en famille , not in some draughty mausoleum that was probably the handsome ducal edifice of the fifth Duke of Doncaster. Besides, without his personal invitation . . .
    â€œStuff and nonsense, Ancilla! Rhaz shall do exactly as I say! He is a most biddable son, you know!”
    Ancilla refrained from asking why it was then necessary for her grace to go to such extraordinary lengths to secure his compliance in this scheme which she was not sure she could quite approve. Instead, she mildly mentioned that perhaps an afternoon tea or a simple evening whist party might suffice.
    The duchess looked her scorn as she pulled out an immense filigree fan studded with rubies and wrought, in immeasurable places, with gold. Ancilla wondered wherever she could have procured such a hideous thing and whether it served any useful purpose whatsoever, for it looked so heavy that it surely could not function quite as it ought.
    Happily, the duchess was oblivious to her disparaging musings and began a lengthy discourse on quite why Christmas was the most opportune moment to foist two young ladies, a flighty mama, three abigails, a manservant, a groom, a music master and nigh on ten portmanteaus on the fifth duke’s noble attention.
    By the time she had finished, the duchess had glibly announced a whole host of entertainments that left Ancilla bereft for speech. The crowning glory came when her grace announced, with great satisfaction, that Seraphina would have a chance to prove the superiority of her music master when she was allotted pride of place in the traditional Christmas pageant held on the Carlisle estate.
    Ancilla was stretching out for the smelling salts with an unusually faltering hand when the duchess unstopped some of her