“It is so very good to see you, too, Your Grace,” she said, accepting the delicate porcelain cup the kindly woman held out. “My only regret is that I’ve not made the visit sooner.”

Attending to making her own tea, the duchess made a dismissive sound. “It matters that you are here now. Are you enjoying the Season?”

Lettie grimaced over the top of her cup. “About as much as I’ve enjoyed the nine that came before it, Your Grace.”

A twinkle lit the duchess’ eyes. “That bad.”

“Worse.” Freed in her feelings, she leaned forward. “They are dreadfully awful.”

“Aren’t they?” the other woman whispered conspiratorially, like they were two women united by the truth.

It felt so very freeing to speak to someone of a like mind on these matters. “The constant staring.”

“The oppressive heat,” Anthony’s mother added.

“Having one’s feet trounced.”

“Or, in my case, not having anyone want to trounce my feet because I’m too old.” The duchess snorted. “If I’m going to suffer through the affairs, at the very least I might enjoy a lively reel now and then.”

They shared a smile.

“And yet, you continued to come all these years, even before Lady Eloise made her Come Out and when Lord Anthony was off traveling.” She immediately curled her toes into the soles of her satin slippers. Oh, drat.

The duchess turned a shrewd look on her. “You’ve heard of Anthony’s travels.”

She resisted the urge to squirm. “I…I may have heard mention some years ago.” Because surely there’d at some point in time been some mention of his jaunts around the Continent.

“Hmm.” The other woman’s murmur was noncommittal. “Yes, well, my late husband did enjoy his seat in Parliament, and as that brought him joy, I would never miss a Season, because it brought me joy just in being with him.” Sadness glimmered in the duchess’ eyes.

Setting down her teacup, Lettie covered the widowed woman’s hand with her own. “I am so very sorry, Your Grace,” she murmured.

Unlike with her own parents, whose match had been a cold, unfeeling one in which they had lived largely separate lives, it had always been clear when seeing the duke and duchess together that there’d been only love and affection.

The duchess dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “No sympathies needed, my dear. I had thirty-eight wonderful years with my Nathaniel. Thirty-eight years longer than most women among the peerage will ever know.”

Lettie would likely find herself among the group of those who made a match after they’d long given up on a great romance coming along.