Free Polly and the Prince by Carola Dunn

support a wife.
    “Shall we rejoin the ladies?” John suggested hopefully.
    In the drawing room they found that, emboldened by Teresa’s encouraging presence, Rebecca Ivanovna had decided to hold her first dinner party. She was not yet ready to tackle the local landowners, but the vicar and his wife and daughter were agreeable and uncritical, and there was a widowed Danville cousin who lived in a cottage on the estate.
    “And I thought perhaps the Howards,” she went on, “if you do not object, John? Mrs. Howard is a thoroughly respectable woman, and I found Miss Howard most amiable. We could send the carriage for them.”
    Though Kolya noticed Bev and Fitz exchanging a martyred look and a murmured “devilish flat company,” John unsurprisingly gave his fond approval. Kolya offered to deliver an invitation to the Howards on the morrow.
    The invitation was received by Mrs. Howard with complacency, by Ned with misgiving, and by Polly with pleasure.
    “I should like to know Lady John better,” she said when they discussed it at dinner that evening.
    “You cannot expect to be on intimate terms with her ladyship,” Ned pointed out. “Don’t forget that her husband is a duke’s son, and way above our touch.”
    “Nonsense,” said Mrs. Howard. “Polly is the daughter of an officer and a gentleman, and I understand that Lady John was once a governess. It is not as if Lord John will ever be duke. Mrs. Wyndham says that his elder brother has two sons. Still,” she added, “it will not do to appear encroaching.”
    “I don’t see why I can’t go,” Nick grumbled. “Mr. Volkov says Lord Fitzsimmons and Mr. Bevan are top-o’-the-trees Corinthians. I want to meet them. Are you sure the invitation was not for me too, Mother?”
    “No, dear, of course not.”
    “But I…”
    “Pray do not be forever arguing, Nicholas. Polly, is your blue silk fit to wear? Oh dear, it must be new trimmed at least, I’m sure, and the village shop has nothing fit for it. What are we going to do?”
    Ned came to the rescue. “Don’t worry, Mother, I can drive you into Billingshurst tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Thank you, dear. Miss Pettinger told me that Billingshurst has a very adequate haberdasher, and Mrs. Bruton patronises an excellent seamstress there if ever we have need of new evening gowns.”
    “Why, Mother, I’m always quite content with gowns of your making. Ned, shall you leave Mr. Volkov on his own tomorrow? Is he a good pupil?”
    “He’s enthusiastic and learns very quickly, and he has a natural air of authority. He is quite capable of supervising the men for an afternoon. Everyone likes him in spite of his being a foreigner—in fact, he is very popular with the tenantsalready. He never forgets their names and he’s always ready to pick up a fallen child or carry a heavy basket for an old woman.”
    “Then you think he will be a good bailiff?”
    “One day, certainly. He’s making an excellent start. It’s knowing what crops to plant in which fields, where drainage is needed, when to send cattle to market, and so on that takes years of experience.”
    Polly sighed, she was not sure why. She wondered whether Kolya realised how long it would be before he was ready to run an estate on his own.
     

Chapter 7
     
    Polly let her mother choose the new trimming for her eveninggown. Mrs. Howard had an eye for colour and style which could have done justice to a far larger budget for clothes than she was ever likely to see. The elaborate ruffles and rouleaux that were coming into fashion suited her very well, but her daughter’s taller, fuller figure required simplicity.
    The midnight blue silk looked most elegant with ivory lace stitched around sleeve and bodice and in deep, narrow, reversed V’s rising from the hem almost to the high waist. No one could possibly guess that Honiton lace, and not the finest Brussels, adorned the gown. The only trouble was, Polly was not there to put it on.
    Mrs. Howard’s grey satin