Marchioness Divine | A Regency Romance

Chapter Two: Careful About Whom You Welcome Into Your Home

Lord Edward Herriot, the Right Honourable Earl of Holbeck, was impatient for his oldest friend to return to London with this mysterious Marchioness. There was something rather fantastical about her existence – a creature the same age as himself who had never seen the light of society. He wondered what a sickly, shaking little thing she would be, ripped straight from her home in the countryside. Would she know how to behave herself at all?

He had to hope Frederick's time would not be too consumed caring for the poor lady out of misguided loyalty to the old Marquess. Nobody in London was mourning Lord Thomas Warstone.

Edward looked forward to guiding his friend through his first Parliamentary session tomorrow. He never thought they would be on the benches together and, no matter the tedious speeches and debates they would be subjected to, he was excited for it. With Lord Harper about to be swept out of the house after his latest affair had been exposed, Edward had never been closer to a cabinet position. A good word from a Marquess could be all he needed.

"Thank you once again for being here," Madeleine Warstone repeated. The greying lady was struggling to see her embroidery without her glasses on her bright blue eyes, but her round face looked content enough. "I know Frederick is nervous about the adjustment."

Edward had known the Warstones since he and Frederick were at Eton together, but Madeleine always felt the need to thank him whenever he came to the house two or three times a week. They were always welcome at his home but there was nothing quite like being amongst the carnage of Lady Warstone and her five children.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Edward repeated.

Everyone had been waiting in the blue room almost since Frederick left early that morning. Delilah, the youngest of the bunch, sprang up to the window every time she heard a carriage pass, until finally the clicking of the wheels against the stones halted outside of the house.

"They're here! They're here!" she squawked, drawing everyone else to the window.

Who knew what horrors awaited?

Amelia had barely stepped into the house when she was bombarded with light and people. There were five servants and five Warstones in front of her all blurring into one distorted being under the white light of the glistening hall. An unknown hand immediately reached for her cloak – she coolly stepped forward and removed her cloak and bonnet herself before hanging them up in the cloakroom she had spotted to the side of the hall. When she turned back to the family and servants gathered on the staircase, she could see by their dropped jaws she had already committed some form of faux pas.

Perfect. If she was going to spend only one short season in London, it would help if nobody wished to invite her back. She needed to be respected, not liked.

Frederick finally stepped out from behind their new cousin and presented her awkwardly. "Everyone, may I introduce you to Lady Amelia Warstone. Your ladyship, my mother Madeleine Warstone, my sisters Christina and Delilah, and my brother Henry."

Amelia barely had time to figure out who was whom when Lady Warstone stepped forward to clasp Amelia's young hand in between her own delicate palms. "You are most welcome Lady Warstone. We are so sorry for your loss but we hope we can be a comfort to you. And you may call me Madeleine, if you wish."

Amelia afforded her a small smile. "Thank you Lady Madeleine. You may call me Lady Amelia – it will make it easier to differentiate between all the Lady Warstones in the house."

Lady Madeleine's wide smile, a direct ancestor of Frederick's, shrank slightly as she stepped back in line with her family. Beside her was a gentleman slightly different to Frederick – slightly tanner skin, slightly neater hair, slightly shorter, with slightly broader shoulders. He was stood in front of a couple of ladies wearing the same dress with the same brown hair, except one was slightly shorter than the other. The taller one with the glasses was clutching a couple of books to her chest, and the shorter one who was probably only fifteen years of age was still staring at her with an embroidery hoop clenched in her fist.