Juliana smiled thinly. As if a few dresses could magically call suitors to appear at their doorstep. Her grandmother truly was getting on in her age if she thought that was all it took for her tobecome a success this Season.
“Grandmama, there will be no need for new dresses and such,” she said firmly. “I will not impose such a burden on the—”
“Of course, my dearest sister shall have whatever she requires!” Kit announced, his eyes alight with some strange gleam. “I will tell you what, Grandmama—you and Juliana take the carriage after breakfast and go shopping. Buy some gloves, hats, and shoes while you are at it. No expense shall be spared for dear Juliana this Season!”
To say that she was astonished would have been an understatement. Evenshockedwas putting it a little too mildly.
But then, perhaps, Kit truly had such an inadequate understanding of money that he believed a few winnings at the tables would be enough to revive their flagging fortunes and stave off the wagging tongues. No dressmaker worth their salt would accept the promise of payment from someone whose fortunes had dwindled to such an extent.
“I am afraid that no dressmaker would take our credit,” she told him with a soft sigh. “Really, Kit, it hardly matters. I can sit out this Season. Tell everyone that my constitution has become frail all of a sudden or something of the sort.”
“You will do no such thing!” their grandmother rebuked her sharply. “I have mingled amongst thetonfor far longer than you both have, and I know very well that if you wish to sink lower in their estimation, all you will have to do is show the slightest hint of weakness.”
“Grandmama is right, Julie,” Kit added somberly. “You must get new gowns. I insist. And we shall pay for every item in cash, not credit. That should be enough to dissuade the rumors.”
Juliana looked at him in astonishment. “Cash? But how?”
He reached over to pat her hand. A gesture meant to reassure her, she supposed. “Business has been very good lately,” he told her. “My investments have finally paid off.”
“Wonderful!” Grandmama clapped her hands. “Well then, I shall have the carriage ready for our trip after breakfast.”
Kit smiled. “You do that, Grandmama. Make sure our Juliana has only the finest dresses, just in time for the Hamptons’ ball.”
“But that’s in three days!” Juliana cried out in protest.
“Well, you had better get ready then, dear sister,” he laughed. “Things are only going to get better from here on out.”
Juliana, however, could only manage a tight smile. “I certainly hope so.”
It was not the first time her brother had claimed some miraculous windfall, only for a slew of misfortune to follow. This time, she prayed that he was right.
If only she could quell the trepidation that pulsed with every beat of her heart.
The atelier of Madame DuPont was where ladies’ allowances went to die. A mere pair of gloves was enough to set one back by a month, not to mention a coat.
Or heaven help her, adress.
“We shall need at least three, Madame DuPont.”
Juliana turned toward her grandmama in sheer horror. “Three?Grandmama!” she hissed.
A dress from the much-vaunted dressmaker could cost up to two hundred pounds. That was almost as much as she had been tearfully allowed to spend for her presentation gown—and that was including her gloves, shoes, stockings, and fan!
Had her grandmama lost her faculties? That was a fortune in fabric that could have been better put to use paying their staff. Or restocking their pantry. Or making sure that they did not all freeze in the winter.
“Why, three is the bare minimum, my dear,” Grandmama brushed her off with a careless flutter of her fingers. “And there is the Hamptons’ ball, mind you. You will need a new dress for that one, too.”
“Of course, Mademoiselle,” Madame DuPont asserted with a brilliant smile. “I heard that His Grace, the Duke of Stonevale, himself will be in attendance.” The modiste paused as if in deep thought, and then added, “Lady Mosley has already chosen the pink silk for her daughter.”
Grandmama smiled and fanned herself. “Pink has never been your color, my dear. Take a look at this.” She gestured at a roll of satin. “Does this not look more festive?”
Good heavens, it was bright enough to rival the sun itself on a summer’s day. Blinding, in the worst possible way.
Fortunately, Madame DuPont must have taken note of the abject horror that was most likely scrawled across Juliana’s visage, for she smiled and reached beneath the pile of fabric to pull out a bolt of deep sapphire. With a smile that dripped with practiced ease, she casually held it up against Juliana. “I think thissuits Miss Hawthorne better,” she suggested. “It brings out the fairness of your skin and the blue of your eyes.”
Juliana narrowed those said eyes. “How much will it—”
“Is it not a little too… somber?” Her grandmother did not bother to hide her dismay, as if she thought that a modiste of a reputation as vaunted as Madame DuPont should know better. “I still think the yellow…”
