After their meeting, her husband James escorted Lord Snowden to the Duchess of Winshire’s private sitting room. She already had a pot of coffee sitting on the table before her, having discovered at his last visit that he preferred the beverage. She had also arranged The Teatime Tattler right where he would see it, open to the page that mentioned the excitement at a ball last night. The one where Lord Hungerford-Fox made nasty allegations about Lady Charmain, and Lord Snowden proposed. Although Rosemary, who had been present, said that it was not quite a proposal.

It would need to be, and Eleanor Winshire planned to tell the young man that, if he did not already know it.

“Black, was it not?” she asked him, as he took the seat she offered him, and fixed his gaze on the gossip rag.

“You have seen the article, then.” He took the cup from her hands.

“And, I surmise, so have you, Lord Snowden.” She would give him the opportunity to make up his own mind, having promised her son not to organise other people’s lives for them unless they sought her help. Though it was hard to resist. “My step-daughter tells me that the Tattler exaggerates. You spoke of possibilities. It was not a proposal.”

“That is true, Your Grace, but will not, I think, make difference to Society. May I speak frankly?”

Eleanor inclined her head. “I wish you would.”

“I can think of no greater felicity than to have Marg– Lady Charmain as my wife, but until my cousin is in custody, I fear wedding her will make her a target for his murderous intentions.”

“I see your difficulty,” the duchess said, “but you can surely make certain that Lady Charmain is well guarded from a physical attack.”

Lord Snowden nodded. “I take your meaning. The attacks on her reputation and her character will be far harder to counter if we do not, in fact, become betrothed.”

“Married, I think,” Eleanor said, forgetting her resolution not to interfere. “If you do not marry soon, people will say that you have no intention of doing so; that you are just pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes.”

The young man nodded. “Yes, I think so, too. But I wondered if I was just letting my own wishes guide my thinking. It will be over to Margaret, of course. I will tell her that I want to be married in truth, but she may refuse me.”

The duchess smiled. He really was an estimable young man, even if he was raised in a brothel. That rumour was out in Society, too, but people couldn’t quite believe it, since his manners and dress were just as they should be, and James had made it know that he was a friend and protege of the Duke and Duchess of Winshire and their family. Eleanor, too, had laughed at the rumour when it was repeated to her. “A brothel, my dear? Does he look it?” she had said, and the conversation had moved on to something else.

Lord Snowden had another question. “Should I get a special license, Your Grace? And do you know how one goes about that?”

“An ordinary license will be enough,” Eleanor told him. “You apply to the bishop of your diocese. You will be able to marry without posting the banns. Once you apply, you must wait for seven days, but that is to the good. You are not in desperate haste. But you also do not intend to share your private affairs with the public, by posting the banns. Indeed, most people who can afford it use an ordinary license. It is unexceptional.” She smiled at the young man. “In this case, unexceptional is a good thing.”

***

This is a scene that doesn’t appear in Snowy and the Seven Doves, the third book in A Twist Upon a Regency Tale. I finished the meeting with the duke saying that Eleanor wants a word, then go straight to Margaret, who receives a message from Snowy asking if he can come around. Snowy and the Seven Doves went to the publisher today.