He burst out laughing. “It would look extremely odd at Almack’s.”
Beth raised her brows. “I can’t interest you, milord, in a charmingtogalike garment in figured muslin, perhaps with your armorial bearingsembroidered around the hem?”
“In the hottest days of summer you could probably interest me in itvery much, but it would never wash. How would we ride?”
“The Romans managed, as did the men of the early Middle Ages. Yournoble de Vaux forbearers who came over at the conquest were undoubtedlywearing skirts. And look at the Scots who have retained thetradition.”
He threw up one hand. “Enough. I surrender. In fact, I’m going toretreat while I’m still able. Do you have everything here to yoursatisfaction?”
“Yes, of course. You’re going out?”
“Just for a little while.” He sobered. “According to the duke a meetingbetween Napoleon and the allies is expected any day. May even be going onnow, though we have no news. I want to see what’s being said.”
Beth felt a chill at the thought that even now, at this apparentlypeaceful moment, the fate of Europe might be in the balance. Somewhere inBelgium cannons could be roaring and men falling dead. Perhaps men theyknew.
“Yes, please go and see what you can discover.”
He dropped a kiss on her cheek then was gone.
Beth thought of vibrant Viscount Amleigh and lighthearted DariusDebenham and said a prayer for their safety, for the safety of all. Whatnonsense that was. How could there be safety in war? Despite the prayerssaid in the churches every Sunday, she didn’t see how God could have anypart to play in war.
How strange that even if the battle raged now they would not hear wordof it for days, and it would be even longer before there was definiteinformation about casualties.
There was nothing to do but address herself to her own life.
She supposed wistfully that Lucien would soon meet up with friends andacquaintances. She had none of the former and very few of the latter. Assoon as the notice of their return to Town appeared she supposed she wouldhave callers, but they would only be curious strangers, and she was tiredof that artificial way of life.
She remembered Eleanor Delaney. She had liked the look of the woman andbeen drawn, in the most respectable way, to her husband. She wondered ifthey were still in Town, for she had been invited to visit them.
As they were his friends, perhaps Lucien would take her there.
Beth found, however, that she would be hard pressed to find the timefor informal visits. The duchess invited herself to take tea in Beth’sboudoir and soon asked whether Beth felt able to undertake a full sociallife again. When Beth reluctantly said she was, the duchess outlined anoverwhelming schedule.
“There is so little time left,” she explained with an apologetic smile,“and we must establish you. After all, if you areenceinteyou will be out of circulation for quite some time.”
Beth felt her color flare at the impossibility of this, but the duchessinterpreted it as becoming modesty. “It is not impossible,” she saidcheerfully, “and you must be presented while you still have a trim waist.Have you seen the gown?”
“No, ma’am,” Beth said numbly.
“We did speak of it,” the duchess said, “but trying to talk to a bridejust before her wedding . . .” She threw up her hands in a typicallyGallic gesture. “We agreed to have Joanna’s court dress remodeled for you,remember? It is all ridiculous anyway, for one never has any occasion towear the things again. Come, we have put it in the next room out of theway.”
Redcliff opened the doors as they passed through Beth’s boudoir andinto an adjoining unused bedroom. A small mountain stood there swathed inmull muslin. Redcliff whipped off the covering to reveal the mostfanciful, beautiful, ridiculous gown Beth had ever seen.
The bodice was fitted to the waist in the old style and the skirtspread for feet all around. The fabric was a delicate figured blue silkoverlayed with festooned blond and embroidered with sprays of seedpearls.
“And Lucien and I were talking about rational dress,” Beth saidfaintly.
“Were you?” the duchess asked in surprise. “There is nothing rationalin the business of court, my dear. Lucien hates going there.”
“Why?” Beth asked.
“Wigs.”
“Wigs?”
“Everything is in the old style. The gentlemen have to wear powder, andas few of them have the hair for a queue anymore, that means wigs.” Theduchess gestured for Redcliff to cover the gown. “You will have torehearse with it on.”
“But why must I be presented?” Beth asked. “I am hardly a young girlmaking her curtsy and I have no interest in such matters.”
