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then walked from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.  

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
     
    “I have written to Reggie but have still received no reply, Betsy. I’m so worried for him.”
    Eva raised her face to the sun as she handed Betsy Mulholland a sheet to hang on the line. The heat was soothing on her skin.  
    Betsy had arrived one week after her husband had left with an armed outrider and Eva knew the Duke had guessed correctly that her father would not give up the woman without a fight. However, of Reggie there had been no sign. Her father had refused to let him come and she knew this was because he had taken Eva’s place in the Winchcomb household.  
    “We will find a way to get him here, your Grace,” Betsy said, “and in the meantime he is used to your father’s ways.”
    Yes, Eva had to believe that and if she could not find a solution soon, she would ask the duke for help again.  
    She had thought about him a lot since that morning two months ago when he had left Stratton for London. Eva had watched him walk to his carriage, his eagerness at leaving obvious in his long strides. She’d leant on the window ledge to get a final glimpse of him, and as if he sensed her presence, he had looked up and their eyes met briefly. She had raised a hand in farewell but he simply climbed inside and closed the door behind him.
    “Your Grace!”
    Eva watched Luton hurry toward her. Tomorrow, she decided, they would hire a young boy to serve as his helper. Surely it was not good for a man of his age to be running about collecting his mistress? And two new gardeners, she thought with a spurt of independence. Stratton deserved to be restored to its former glory and since her husband was not here, that task now fell to her.
    “Your Grace, Miss Belmont and Mrs. Potter have called to see you.” Luton clutched his side as he drew in a deep breath.
    “Oh dear.” Horrified, Eva looked down at her drab grey dress. “Who are they, Luton?”
    “I believe Mrs. Potter is the reverend’s wife, your Grace, and Miss Belmont’s father owns property which borders Stratton”.  
    “Oh dear,” she said again, feeling her newfound confidence wane.  
    Eva patted and tucked and fiddled with her hair on the way back to the house, took out her handkerchief and scrubbed her face, then tried to brush the grass stains from her skirts.
    “It is you who are the duchess, your Grace,” Luton said as they entered the house. “Therefore perhaps they are at this very minute doing the same to themselves.”
    Eva’s hands stopped in mid-pat and she looked into his wise old eyes and smiled. “You, Luton, are a prince amongst men.”
    “Thank you, your Grace.” Luton opened the parlor door for Eva to enter.
    “I’m so pleased to meet you, your Grace.”
    Eva watched the beautiful woman walk toward her. She had hazel eyes and an open face and strawberry blonde curls peeking out from beneath her bonnet.  
    “I am Miss Belmont, your nearest neighbor.”
    “How do you do.” Eva sank into a curtsy.
    “And this is Mrs. Potter. She is the wife of Reverend Potter from the local parish,” Miss Belmont added, squeezing Eva’s hand hard, thus drawing her eyes upwards. Miss Belmont then winked at her.
    Puzzled by the young lady’s actions, Eva turned to face the other woman in the room. And I thought I had bad fashion sense , she thought, looking at Mrs. Potter.
    The woman before her looked like a brightly colored Christmas parcel. She was as wide as she was tall, her body swathed in yards of bright red fabric that scooped low over her ample bosom and nipped in tight around her waist, which in turn was accentuated with a wide green sash. Then again, perhaps she resembled a gaily wrapped sausage, Eva thought, looking at the rolls of fat protruding over the sash. Even Mrs. Potter’s hair was curled in tight sausage ringlets that framed a round face punctuated by two small eyes of indeterminate color.