“Busy,” Alethea confessed. “Marriage is most industrious on one’s behalf.”
“You have a glow,” Maria observed. “I am tempted to conclude you are very happy.”
Temperance produced a delicate cough.
“My dear duchess, one does not accuse a married lady of radiance before noon.”
“On the contrary,” Prudence murmured, “one records it for future reference.”
“When both of you are married, you will understand, too,” Alethea said.
“Very well,” Temperance decreed.
“Now,” Prudence said, when the first cups had been poured and the maid dismissed, “we shall admire your curtains, speak ill of no one who does not deserve it, and ask questions until you tell us to stop. Begin with the curtains, Charity.”
“They are excellent,” Charity said promptly. “Very calm. I approve their decision to be blue.”
Alethea craned her neck at the embroidery. “It is not quite blue,” she murmured, “but I believe that it matches the furniture quite well.”
“Precisely,” Prudence said, satisfied. “Now, Maria. How are you?”
Maria felt the old reflex to say she wasvery well, thank you. But that would be too formal between friends.
“Better,” she said. “Truly.”
Temperance’s brows rose a fraction. “Better in what way?”
“In the ordinary,” Maria said.
“You are referring to the duke, yes?” Prudence said.
Maria nodded, suddenly feeling a wave of self-consciousness.
“Things between the two of us are steadily improving, I should like to say. I believe that we are trying to get to know one another, and trying less to impress one another constantly.”
“Good. Leave impressing to afternoons; mornings are for sense.” Prudence set her cup down and glanced at the doorway. “And speaking of sense, where is His Grace?”
“At his desk. He had letters,” Maria blinked.
“Of course,” Prudence murmured. “Charity, ask your question next.”
“Where is His Grace?” Charity repeated.
“Still at his desk,” Maria laughed. “He keeps it in the same place every day.”
“And at what hour does His Grace usually remember that the drawing room exists?” Temperance added.
“At eleven,” Maria said, suspicious now but amused. “Why?”
“No reason,” Temperance said.
Alethea looked dreamy and guilty at once. “We wondered whether the study door is nearer to this room or to the library.”
“Nearer to….” Maria stopped, narrowed her eyes. “What are you about?”
Prudence looked injured.
“A morning call, a decent tea, a mild investigation into your happiness. The usual.”