Once Upon a Maiden Lane (Maiden Lane #12.5)(7)

The marchioness bent toward Mary and took her chin in a hand roped with blue veins.

Mary tried not to wince. The old lady had a strong—and rather painful—grip.

She peered into Mary’s face, tilting her head first one way and then the other.

“She has a marked resemblance to my dear son-in-law,” the old woman finally pronounced, letting go of Mary. “The chin and eyes and of course the coloring are unmistakable. The Albrights breed as true as pugs.”

Lady Angrove exhaled quietly and darted a small, rather teary smile at Mary, almost as if she had been the one under inspection.

It would be very hard not to like the countess, Mary reflected.

The marchioness looked at Lady Caire. “Your husband informs us that you’ve known this child since she was a baby.”

Lady Caire nodded, her brows drawn together over her sherry-brown eyes. “She was found on the doorstep at my family’s orphanage on Whitsunday, 1726. Mary grew up in the orphanage, and when I married Lord Caire she came with me.”

The marchioness pursed her lips, her crepey eyelids lowering to half-mast over her eyes. “I suppose we can believe your word.”

Lord Caire stirred. “My wife does not lie, my lady.”

The old lady crimped her lips together in what might have been a smile—although a very cynical one. “If she does not, then she is the only lady in London not to do so. But as I say, I will take her word.” She waved at Mary. “Do get up, child.”

Mary slowly rose and clasped her hands in front of her. This was…goodness. This simply couldn’t be. She didn’t know what to think.

Lady Angrove stood abruptly and gathered Mary into her arms. Her hair smelled of orange blossoms and her hands were very soft. “It’s so strange, isn’t it? For years and years we thought you lost forever, and now here you are.” Lady Angrove pulled away to look at Mary. She’d regained some of her color, though her voice quavered. “This…this is simply a miracle. I can’t wait to tell Joanna—she’ll be thrilled—and your papa will be pleased. There’ll be so much to do. I think dancing lessons and comportment. Perhaps drawing, painting, and music lessons?” She cocked her head, gazing at Mary’s face as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Lady Angrove shook her head. “No, not all at once, we don’t want to drown you in new things. But the dressmakers, certainly. And French. A lady cannot do without French. Oh goodness, and do you ride, dear?”

“I…” Mary gazed at her in astonishment. She felt rather as if she’d tripped and fallen into a different world. “No, my lady. But I don’t understand. What is happening?”

Lady Angrove’s big blue eyes filled with tears, and she gasped and pressed her handkerchief to her lips as if she couldn’t speak.

The marchioness only snorted.

It was Lord Blackwell who said, “Your mother and grandmother are discussing how to welcome you to the family and prepare you for society, Lady Cecilia.”

Mary turned to look at him in horror.

Those devil-may-care dimples were back on his face. “Oh, and to be my wife.”





Chapter Three



Now, all the other mermaids were content to sing and comb their hair, but Clio cared little for singing and was bored combing her hair. She liked to watch the land dwellers’ ships. They were strange and ugly and ungainly, but she found them fascinating nonetheless.

And she thought the men with split tails who lived in them more fascinating still.…

—From The Curious Mermaid



Henry watched wryly as a look of horror passed over Mary’s—or rather Lady Cecilia’s—face before she quickly controlled herself. The aristocracy’s tendency to promise its offspring in marriage without the approval or even consent of said offspring was a bit hard for the average outsider to understand. Lord knew he himself found it hard to understand sometimes—and he’d grown up with it. Having an arranged marriage complete with bridegroom suddenly thrust upon one?

Well, no wonder she looked appalled.

He couldn’t even take it personally.

“Explain,” Lord Caire snapped.

Henry glanced at the older man. He’d been interested when both Lord and Lady Caire had joined this little tête-à-tête, apparently unaware of why he, Lady Angrove, and the dowager marchioness had called. Lord Caire’s concern seemed nearly paternal, and Lady Caire sat close to her nursemaid as if ready to leap to her defense.

They were obviously quite fond of the girl, which made him curious—most aristocrats barely spoke to their maids. She had to be special to have garnered their loyalty.

The marchioness folded her hands in her lap. “Do sit down, my dear,” she said to Lady Cecilia.

“Come, come.” Lady Angrove beckoned to the girl as she sat on the settee and scooted to the end away from her mother. “Sit beside me, do.”

Lady Cecilia nodded uncertainly and took the seat between the marchioness and Lady Angrove.

The countess beamed, her eyes still bright with tears.

The marchioness turned to Lord and Lady Caire. “My son-in-law in his infinite wisdom decided on the birth of his eldest daughter, Lady Cecilia”—she made a short nod to the girl beside her—“to betroth her to the son of his greatest friend and neighbor, the Earl of Keating.”