The Bumblebroth Read Free Page A

again.
    "I would be delighted," William said, "but something tells me I ought to present myself first. I am Westbury."
    The duchess coloured again and smiled up at him shyly. "Of course. How foolish of me not to think of it! For of course, we never have been presented, have we?" Her fair skin responded readily to even the slightest hint of a social blunder.
    "Now that we have met, I hope you will forgive me for appearing in this fashion. I always garden in the morning, so I am not normally home to visitors. But perhaps Barlow did not inform you?"
    "If you mean your manservant," William said, coughing discreetly for his mother's sake, "I'm afraid he tried, but we were not so easily discouraged."
    The duchess looked at him questioningly; but before an awkward silence could result from William's attempt to bait his mother, Lady Westbury took command of the conversation.
    "Westbury can only be here for a very few days, Duchess, so we thought we should take this chance to call in the hope of seeing dear Lady Pamela." Her voice dwelt fondly on the girl's name, so much so that the duchess was clearly taken aback.
    "To see Pamela?" she repeated. She looked back and forth from William, who had achieved a distant expression, to Lady Westbury, who was smiling at her most intently.
    "Yes, of course." Lady Westbury tittered in what was meant to be an encouraging way. "I have spoken so often of Lady Pamela in my letters to William that he has declared himself quite wild to see her! You must not hide her from us forever." She coyly wagged a finger at the duchess.
    Her Grace of Upavon gazed open-mouthed at Lady Westbury for the better part of ten seconds. It was clear to William that this playful mood of his mother's had struck the duchess as unnaturally as it had him. Privately, he thought that Lady Westbury's charade had gone on long enough, and he was prepared to call an end to their unexpected visit if only he could do so gracefully.
    But then the duchess surprised him.
    She stopped staring at Lady Westbury and turned towards William with a suddenly hostile eye.
    William met her look with a bland countenance, concealing the fact that he understood what was behind her shrewd expression. She had tumbled to his mother's interest in a match between himself and Lady Pamela and was trying to measure his complicity. He thought he recognized the look. The duchess could only be interested in appraising him as a suitable husband for her daughter.
    To most mothers of young ladies, his visit— given the size of his estate and his standing as a peer— would have been immediately welcomed. But it soon became clear that the dowager duchess was not so easily won. After some moments of silence— during which the duchess's look changed from mere guardedness to an expression of active resentment— William was at pains to hide his amusement. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, which did not escape her notice.
    She flushed and turned to speak to Lady Westbury firmly. "I'm afraid you have been put to a great deal of inconvenience for nothing. At this hour, Pamela will be occupied with her lessons, and I would not wish you to wait while she prepares herself to meet visitors."
    This excuse would be quite inadequate to discourage Lady Westbury, as William could have told her. Surprised— and slightly piqued— that the duchess had found him wanting, he abandoned his intention of leaving and settled down with pleasure to watch the coming confrontation. The duchess, for all her firmness, was a delicate seedling to his mother's hearty vine. If any of his wagering cronies had been present, William would immediately have put one hundred pounds on the likelihood that Lady Westbury would prevail.
    "Oh, we would be only too happy to wait for her," Lady Westbury cooed. An underlying steel gave the lie to her tone. "You should call your man and tell him to ask Lady Pamela to come down. He left us to wander about in search of you and never returned. It will do