The American Heiress by Daisy Goodwin Page A

in the morning.
    The butler appeared to announce that dinner was served and Reggie, smiling and uncomplicated, took her into dinner.
    Cora found herself seated between Reggie and Father Oliver. The Duke had her mother on one side and Lady Briscoe, a stout lady with an ear trumpet who was evidently a neighbour, on the other. Reggie flirted with Cora over the fish; Father Oliver told her about the Reformation over the entrée. The food was neither plentiful nor particularly appetising. As one of the footmen bent over her to serve her, a large white globule fell from his powdered hair on to her plate. She looked at it astonished. The footman gasped in horror and snatched the plate away. Reggie, who had seen the whole thing, winked at her.
    ‘That’s the problem of staying in a house without a mistress. The servants can get awfully slack. Things were a good deal sprucer when Duchess Fanny was here.’
    ‘I can’t say I envy the future Duchess if her duties consist of making sure the footmen powder their hair properly. I think it is a ridiculous habit anyway. Why make the servants adopt a fashion that their masters gave up a century ago at least. I think there is something of the tumbrils about it.’ Cora’s tone was rather strident. She had conveniently forgotten that her mother’s own footmen had equally antediluvian hairstyles.
    ‘Oh, Miss Cash, what a modern girl you are. But I think you underestimate how much we English enjoy our traditions. I’m sure that the footman takes great pride in his snowy white hair and knee breeches. The whole point of being a footman is to look magnificently ancien régime . They have enormous cachet in the servants’ hall and get paid according to their height. Do you really want to bring these glorious creatures down to earth by forcing them to go unpowdered in drab broadcloth?’
    ‘I just think they might prefer it.’
    The footman in question was handing Cora some gravy. She turned to him and said, ‘What is your name?’
    The footman blushed and said, ‘Thomas, miss.’
    ‘Can I ask you a question, Thomas?’
    ‘Certainly, miss,’ he said with obvious reluctance.
    ‘Do you enjoy powdering your hair every day? How would you like it if you could wear your hair naturally?’
    The footman looked at the floor and muttered, ‘Very much, miss.’ Cora looked at Reggie triumphantly, but then the servant continued, ‘It would mean I had been made up to butler. Now if you’ll excuse me, miss, I need to finish serving.’
    Cora nodded, feeling not a little foolish. But Reggie was too tactful to press home his advantage and changed the subject deftly.
    As the meal drew to a close, the Duke looked at Mrs Cash and said, ‘In the absence of a hostess, Mrs Cash, I wonder if you would be so kind as to lead the ladies to the drawing room. I apologise for the imposition but it will only be for one more day. My mother will be arriving the day after tomorrow with my stepsister Sybil.’
    ‘Oh, how delightful, Duke, I would so much like to meet them, but I fear that Cora and I cannot impose upon your hospitality any longer. As you can see, she is quite recovered and we really should return to Sutton Veney.’ Mrs Cash’s words were more emphatic than her tone.
    The Duke took up the challenge.
    ‘But my dear Mrs Cash, my mother is hoping so much to meet you and your daughter. She will be quite disappointed not to find you here after she has made the journey from Conyers. And to be honest, Mrs Cash, my mother’s disappointment is not an easy thing to endure. Unless you have some very pressing engagement, perhaps I can prevail on you to stay for another week or so. I would so much like to show Miss Cash more of Lulworth than the wood where she met her accident.’
    Although there had been no doubt in Mrs Cash’s mind about her intention to stay, the Duke’s last remark was reassuring. She took it as a declaration of interest and looked over at Cora to see whether she had registered this