The Bumblebroth by Patricia Wynn

the High Street, could be applied to for lessons in all the most up-to-date steps. And, she said, if Her Grace would not be offended by the suggestion, she could recommend both a caterer, to supply excellent food and drink, as well as several girls— virtuous, hardworking girls— who might be taken on as extra servants if needed.
    By the time Mattie left, accompanied by Gilly, Mrs. Puckeridge had solved all the most pressing problems of the rout and Mattie could relax in part, knowing at least, what steps she had to take.
    She left Mrs. Puckeridge up in the boughs, for that lady, after suffering a series of rebuffs at Her Grace's door, had begun to relinquish her long-cherished dream of becoming the duchess's primary confidante. Now, with one stroke, her ambition had been restored, and for several moments after her guests' departure, she could only stare at the door that had closed behind them with a smile upon her face.
    Emerging from this glowing reverie, she suffered an immediate burst of dissatisfaction at finding herself alone. She knew that her morning would be quite ruined if she could not impart her bit of gossip to someone who, as a result of learning the extent of her involvement in the duchess's scheme, would be eaten up by envy.
    Putting aside the plans for her morning's work, she took up her cloak and ordered up the gig to make a call on Lady Westbury.
     
    Her ladyship's reaction to the news was not entirely what she'd anticipated, although for one brief, blessed moment, Mrs. Puckeridge could detect a touch of resentment in her ladyship's eyes. Then, Lady Westbury recovered herself and assumed an expression of great secrecy and importance.
    "This is no more than to be expected," her ladyship stated, folding her hands tidily in her lap. "Not but what I should have expected the duchess to call upon me if she had need of particular guidance in a social matter, which I daresay she must. However, considering the likely reason for her sudden decision to entertain, I can quite see why she hesitated to apply to me. The answer is entirely obvious."
    "Oh?" Mrs. Puckeridge was finding herself once again on the out, which she could not like. But it would be just like Lady Westbury to attempt to undercut her accomplishment. "Is there some particular reason why she would hesitate to come to you for assistance?"
    Lady Westbury smiled smugly. "I am not at liberty to say, but you must know that my son, Westbury, has been calling upon Lady Pamela. His attentions have been most assiduous over the past few weeks. He has been teaching her how to drive his phaeton— though why any gel would wish to know how to drive such a dangerous vehicle I cannot imagine. And I know, besides, that she has applied to both my sons for advice concerning the use of her pasturage."
    "I see . . . " Mrs. Puckeridge said in a tone designed to invite confidence.
    "I see that you do." Lady Westbury beamed upon her inferior with satisfaction. "It would be too early for me to speak openly, but I can congratulate myself on being the instigator of this particular match. It only took a hint from me for Westbury to see the advantages to himself and to his family. Westbury Manor, as you must know, from its name if from nothing else, once formed a part of his patrimony, and it has always seemed to me a crime that it should no longer be. Since Lady Pamela inherited, it seemed the perfect opportunity to replace it where it belongs."
    "I see." Mrs. Puckeridge said again, but she wondered to herself if the duchess did. She filed away this bit of information as something that might be useful to her at a later date. She could not believe that Her Grace of Upavon was aware of Lord Westbury's machinations, and as prime confidante, the post she now expected to obtain, she had a duty to watch out for her friend's interests.
    Now that Lady Westbury, in spite of her best intentions, had let the cat out of the bag, she could not restrain herself from talking about the