‘And we can teach you deportment and how to dance,’ Lady Frederica said, coming over to join the conversation. ‘If there’s one thing all Stringhams do well, it’s dancing.’
‘Wick, it would be such fun to be the teacher instead of the student,’ Lady Becca suggested shyly.
Uncertain, Louisa swallowed. Her stomach felt tense. Could she accept so much from them? Should she? Would Lord Cheswick let her?
The handsome young Marquess was already in her thoughts more than was proper. She’d stayed up late the night before, wondering how his lips would feel against hers. But she was being unpardonably foolish. Lord Cheswick was wealthy, educated, handsome and titled. The bride he selected would be both beautiful and accomplished. And Louisa was neither. She didn’t even know how to dance. Yet, stitch by stich, he seemed to have woven his way into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to not think about him. Or how badly she longed to earn his approbation.
Louisa’s gaze flickered from the young girl to her elder brother. She could tell from his tender expression that he would not refuse her anything. Her opinion of him rose even higher, if that were possible.
‘Very well, Becca, my heart,’ he said. ‘You can teach Miss Nemo to dance and she can stay until we find her proper family.’
Lady Helen’s eyes widened. ‘But not the wicked aunt?’
Lord Cheswick sighed, noddingly slowly. ‘Not the wicked aunt.’
Exhaling, Louisa couldn’t hide her relief. The Stringhams were not going to send her back to Aunt Rockingham.
Chapter Eight
Lord Cheswick made Cousin Barnabas and his younger brothers seem even more ordinary. His tall, muscular frame radiated strength and virility. He was patient and kind. Especially with his three sisters, who seemed to live to plague him. Louisa couldn’t imagine teasing any of her aunt’s sons. Nor speaking as freely as the Stringham sisters did. It would seem that in their home—castle!—the daughters were treated the same way as the sons.
She wished that she had grown up with such a large and loving family.
She wished that she had known Wick sooner.
Lady Frederica had lent her another gown, and a maid helped her into it and added several pins. Louisa desperately needed new clothing, which would require money from her inheritance. She needed to find her Uncle Laybourne and ask for his help, but she feared that he would send her back to Aunt Rockingham’s care. He had seemed stern and cold at her father’s funeral, but perhaps he’d only been mourning as she had.
Lady Helen and Lady Becca were waiting for her outside the door. They each took one of her hands and led her down the stairs to the breakfast room, where it seemed the family dined informally. They passed the butler.
‘Harper,’ Lady Becca said, ‘this is our new friend.’
The butler bowed deeply to Louisa. ‘My lady.’
Louisa curtsied in return, and jumped when Lady Helen squealed.
‘Miss Nemo is a real lady, Becca. I told you. Now all we have to do is discover your first name.’
Louisa swallowed; her throat felt painfully dry. ‘Lady Helen, I don’t mean to be taciturn...’
‘Do you admit that you are a lady?’
Louisa felt her face go red. She had never been a good liar. ‘I never said I wasn’t a lady.’
Lady Helen shook her head, smiling widely. ‘I meant do you bear the titleLadybecause you are the daughter of a peer? Or do you deny it?’
She swallowed again, and then opened her mouth. ‘Yes, I am Lady Lou—’ She broke off in confusion. She had nearly given them her entire name.
Nudging her sister with her elbow, Lady Helen grinned in apparent victory. ‘Becca, her name starts withLou.’
Lady Becca squeezed Louisa’s hand tightly. ‘Let me see... There’s Louella, Lucetta, Lucille, Lucretia, Louise, Louisa... It’s got to be one of those.’
Louisa had involuntarily gasped when the young girl said her name.
Lady Becca beamed up at her. ‘I guessed it! You’re Lady Louisa.’
There was no point in trying to lie. Louisa’s face was hot and no doubt she looked extremely guilty.
‘Lady Louisa is much better than Miss Nemo,’ Lady Helen said, grabbing both Louisa’s and Becca’s free hands so they made a circle. ‘But now that you are our social equal, and not our governess, we really must insist that you simply call us by our names. Saying “Lady” all the time is a trifle tedious and extremely pretentious.’