Free Miss Darby's Duenna by Sheri Cobb South Page B

thought you might find this item of interest.” She reached for the dowager’s newspaper, then hesitated. “With your permission, of course.”
    “Oh, very well,” agreed Lady Hawthorne with obvious reluctance.
    Miss Hunnicutt turned the paper over and began to read aloud. ‘“The dowager Lady H. has recently returned to the Metropolis after a prolonged residence in Bath. Lady H., grandmother of Sir H. H., was seen at Covent Garden with her granddaughter Miss H., Lord M., and MissD., who is rumored to be betrothed to Sir H. Can it be wedding bells which have lured Lady H. out of seclusion?’ ” Lowering the newspaper, Miss Hunnicutt regarded her employer expectantly.
    “What of it, Mildred?” asked Lady Hawthorne, unimpressed.
    “Is it not extraordinary, my lady?  Why, it could have been describing you!”
    “Indeed it could have, were it not for one minor detail: it says Lady H. has recently returned to London, and I, you will observe, am still very much in Bath.”
    “Still, it is unusual, you must own,” persisted the companion.
    “Nonsense!  Why, there must be any number of dowagers in London with the same initials, and I’ll wager most of them have grandsons. Now, unless you can find something worthwhile to say, kindly let me finish my article in peace.”
    “Yes, my lady,” murmured Miss Hunnicutt, quite cowed.
    * * * *
    While in Bath Lady Hawthorne perused Lord Mablethorpe’s account of his American travels, readers of the London newspapers were made privy to the information that Lady Clairmont had presented her husband with a son and heir, and that both mother and child were doing well. These happy tidings (which had been delivered to Curzon Street by messenger on the evening after Mrs. Darby’s hasty departure) were gladly received by all who had known Mrs. Darby’s eldest daughter before her marriage to the viscount. The predictable result was a steady stream of morning callers to Curzon Street. Upon their arrival, the visitors discovered that the new grandmother had gone to assist at her daughter’s lying-in, and that Miss Hawthorne’s grandmother, recently of Bath, had taken on the role of duenna.
    Happy as she was for her sister, the new aunt, Miss Darby, found her sudden celebrity something of a trial. She endured her visitors’ congratulations with a strained smile, but found it harder to answer with equanimity their coy suggestions that she would soon be the one marrying and setting up her nursery. For as plentiful as her callers were, the one she most wanted to see was conspicuously absent. Her heart leaped every time the door knocker sounded, only to plummet when the butler announced someone other than Sir Harry.
    But, Olivia told herself, she did not care. If Harry did not wish for her company, there was another who did. Indeed, had it not been for Lord Mannerly, she did not know how she would have managed. The marquess was as attentive as Harry was neglectful, and his obvious admiration was a balm to her wounded pride. He had called in Curzon Street on the morning following the birth announcement, accompanied by his aunt, the duchess of Ramsey.
    “I understand your sister has given birth to a boy,” said Lord Mannerly as he bowed over her hand. “Allow me to tell you that I have never seen a maiden aunt more lovely.”
    “I’ll wager you say that to all the young ladies,” scolded Miss Darby playfully, her cheeks nevertheless turning pink with pleasure.
    “Tell me, Miss Darby, what has Sir Harry to say to your sister’s happy news? I daresay he looks forward to the day when he can set up his own nursery.”
    At the mention of her absentee bridegroom, Olivia lost her rosy glow. “I have seen little of Harry of late, my lord. He stays very busy, you see.”
    “Perhaps his loss may be my gain. I realize I must be a poor substitute for the man you are promised to marry, but I should be honored to offer you my services as an escort. Do you like horses, Miss Darby? I have a