It was a small form of protest, but of course, it fell on deaf ears. He had insisted on bringing her to the town—well, insisted being a mild term. He had all but demanded that she come with him.
“Nonsense,” Nicholas shrugged. “If we are to get a gown for you, then it must be from the finest modiste in the city. Did you really think I would have you dressed in rags?”
Violet looked up at the shop in question, her heart sinking slightly. The sign readMadame Celine’s.It was a familiar name of course—who hadn’t heard of it? It was whispered in awe by countless ladies during her debut Season.
Everygirl wished to have a dress from here. But it was a pipe dream for most. Not only did the Madame charge prices equivalent to more than a months wage for most, the demand was so high that there were hardly any slots available.
“How onearthdid you manage to secure an appointment for us on such short notice?” Violet asked.
A smug smile formed on the Duke’s face. “My dear, you seem to forget I’m a duke, and there’s no such thing assecuring an appointment.”
Violet was impressed, but she tried not to let it show. It was clear that he was proud about his accomplishment as it was, and she did not wish to inflate his ego even further.
Nicholas opened the door, and the soft chime of a bell announced their arrival. The moment Violet stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat.
The place was like nothing she had ever seen before.
Unlike the modest dress shops she was accustomed to where bolts of fabric were stacked haphazardly and seamstresses bustled around frantically, this place was the exact opposite. The scent of lavender hung in the air, truly elevating the high class feel of the place. Exquisite gowns were displayed on mannequins, crafted with a level of detail that Violet had never even seen before.
Violet felt out of place in her simple day dress though she didn’t dare fidget or betray her unease. Next to her, she saw that the Duke looked completely relaxed.You’re a duchess, too. You’re not out of place,she reminded herself.
Moments later, Madam Celine herself appeared. She was an older woman, elegantly dressed as was to be expected. She surveyed the both of them sharply before breaking into a smile.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, dipping into a slight curtsy. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Madame,” Nicholas replied smoothly. “Allow me to introduce my wife, the Duchess of Bernight.”
Madame’s gaze shifted to Violet, her smile widening as she took her in. “Ah, the Duchess,” she said warmly. “It is an honor, Your Grace. And may I say, you are even lovelier than I imagined.”
Violet felt her cheeks warm, and she managed a polite smile. “Thank you.”
Here she had thought that she would not fit into this world, but she was being received so warmly that Violet was beginning to change her mind.
“Madam, I want the most elegant gown for the Duchess. Spare no expense.”
Violet’s eyes widened, and she turned to him quickly. “Nicholas, that’s not?—”
“Necessary?” he finished for her, his smirk unmistakable. “It is.”
Madame Celine clapped her hands, already motioning for her assistants to gather fabrics and sketches.
“Of course, Your Grace. I shall ensure the Duchess is the envy of every lady in London.”
“That’s exactly what I want,” Nicholas said, his gaze flicking to Violet. “The finest gown. One that is your best work.”
Violet’s flush deepened, and she looked away, her hands twisting together nervously. “Your Grace, may I speak with you in private for a moment?” she whispered, urgently.
Nicholas exchanged a look with the Madame before stepping to the side.
“Go on, then.”
Violet gritted her teeth, “It all sounds a bit too over the top for an appearance at a ball.”
“Your first appearance,” he reminded her with ease.
“Yes, but surely there must be some prior considerations. This will draw too much attention. Everyone will be looking at me.”
While her words were laced in horror, they seemed to have the opposite effect on the Duke.
