Within an hour, not only did the entire village know, but half of them had gathered in the bakery to offer advice, assistance, and warnings.
"Remember, duchesses never smile," Mrs. Morrison instructed seriously. "They smirk mysteriously."
"That's complete nonsense," Mrs. Ironwell countered. "Duchesses smile constantly to show they're benevolent."
"Neither of you have ever met a duchess," Marianne pointed out.
"I've seen pictures," Mrs. Morrison said defensively.
"Pictures don't smile or smirk!"
"You can tell from their expressions!"
"Ladies, please," the vicar interrupted. "What Marianne needs is spiritual fortification, not duchess-based speculation."
"What I need," Marianne said, looking increasingly overwhelmed, "is everyone to stop helping before I lose my nerve entirely."
"You can't lose your nerve!" Thomas protested. "I've already started a betting pool on whether you'll charm everyone or cause a scandal!"
"Thomas!"
"What? It's good odds either way!"
Alaric finally intervened, gently but firmly ushering everyone out except Marianne's mother. "Thank you all for your... enthusiasm. Marianne appreciates your support, but we really must prepare to leave."
When they were finally alone, Marianne looked at him with wide eyes. "This is insane. I can't go to a ball. I don't even own gloves without holes in them!"
"Marianne..."
"And my hair! It permanently smells like yeast! And I have exactly one piece of jewelry—my mother's ring on a chain. That's not exactly duchess-level adornment!"
"Marianne..."
"And what if I use the wrong fork? Or curtsy wrong? Or accidentally insult someone important? What if I embarrass you?"
"Marianne!" He caught her shoulders, making her look at him. "You could never embarrass me. You might occasionally cover me in flour or make me fall off ladders or force me to eat experimental savory gingerbread, but embarrass me? Never."
"This is different. This is your world."
"No. My world is here now, with you. London is just a place I have to visit occasionally for duty. And this duty will be infinitely more bearable with you beside me."
"What if they hate me?"
"Then we'll leave."
"You can't just leave your aunt's ball!"
"Watch me. Marianne, I need you to understand something. You matter more than their opinions. Your comfort matters more than their traditions. If at any point you want to leave, we leave. No questions, no hesitation."
"You mean that."
"Completely."
She took a deep breath. "All right. I'll come. But if I accidentally start a war with the wrong fork usage, you're taking responsibility."
"Gladly."
The preparations for departure were chaotic. Marianne packed and repacked three times, each time declaring she had nothing suitable and shouldn't go. Her mother finally took over, packing practical things while ignoring Marianne's protests.
