At this, her mother gave a slight shake of her head. “He is a duke, dear. Let us not pretend that is the same as your brother being a viscount.”
“Do you fear the duchess will not treat you well?”
She sighed, fingering the small reticule she held in her lap. “I am unsure. She has never spoken to me before.”
“I must admit it is hard to fathom me being a duchess.” Louisa paused, relaxing into the seatback. “Me,” Louisa said, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “The duke said he believed I would fit the role well, but I fear he might have been kicked in the head by a horse.”
Her mother turned to face her. “I do not want you to sell yourself short, Louisa. I should be setting you a better example, and I will from this point on. When we enter their residence, I want you to hold your head high, pull your shoulders back and act as if you belong there. Because you do belong.” She raised her brow. “Be the duchess his grace sees in you.”
Before Louisa could reply, the carriage slowed to a stop. The door to their conveyance opened and Louisa saw the front door standing regally amidst the mansion before them. Her eyes tunneled, focusing sharply on the footmen standing by the door in full livery. They stood erect, waiting to perform their task promptly and with exact precision.
Her mother turned back toward her. “This is the time to make a firm impression, Louisa. I have no doubt you will succeed.” She squeezed Louisa’s hand before turning and accepting the footman’s assistance as she exited the carriage.
Louisa followed, stepping out and letting her eyes slide over the fortress before her. A set of stairs flanked the front of the building, leading toward each other and arriving before the front door. On either side, windows stretched down the wings. Turrets marked the corners of the house, and an elegant statue rested atop the roof directly above where they stood.
“Remember,” her mother said softly. “You belong here. Now behave as such.”
Louisa nodded obediently, walking beside her to the door, holding her head high.
The footmen each took hold of their prospective door handles, opening the double doors in perfect unison. No sound creaked from the hinges, perfectly maintained as they were. The doors opened to an expansive foyer, where a butler stood in wait.
The gray-haired man gave a graceful bow. “His grace is waiting for you in the Lavender Room.” He had a small stoop to his shoulders, but moved with a speed that defied his age. The butler led them across the marble floor and Louisa allowed herself a brief perusal of the room. Another set of double stairs graced each wall, leading up to the first floor, where her gaze was drawn to the largest and most extravagant chandelier she had ever seen.
As the butler opened the door to the Lavender Room, Louisa took note that it was very aptly named. Everything within alluded to the color. The paper covering the walls, the hue of the furniture, even the smell that lingered in the air. The most hilarious thing of all was how the imposing, stately duke who took his stand looked completely out of place in the overly feminine room.
“Lady Wood, Miss Morgan,” the duchess intoned, standing beside her chair.
Louisa and her mother dipped into a deep curtsey, and the duke gave them a short bow.
“Please, take a seat.” The duchess sat first, followed by Louisa and her mother, with the duke sitting last.
Louisa felt suffocated in the room’s stuffiness and their hosts’ demeanor. She reminded herself that once they were married, she would be free to do with her days as she wished. She need not let their behavior dictate her own.
“Miss Morgan.” The duchess sat erect, her posture immaculate, her hair in perfect order and her skin, despite her age, glowing. “Let us not waste time. We shall go to the modiste and order you a new wardrobe in the next week. The gowns will not all be ready before your wedding, but if we ply Auclair with enough encouragement, I’m sure we can manage to get you five or so before then. You will need your wedding gown and a small closetful to get you by before the rest are ready. It will be a busy day, so plan to set the entirety of it aside.”
“Of course,” Lady Wood said, smiling. “Only tell us the day and we will be sure to leave it open.”
Louisa opened her mouth, but before she could object, the duchess continued.
“Very good.” The duchess gave a nod. “I will only stay on the premises for a few months to help you get acquainted with your expectations, and then I plan to remove myself to Willowcrest, our country estate in Dunwich,” she clarified.
Louisa sat silent for a moment, absorbing everything. She had anticipated a new wardrobe would be required, but that did not mean she had to be in raptures over the idea of standing all day while being poked and prodded by a Frenchwoman with needles.
“Of course, Your Grace.” She managed a tight smile.
“As far as the wedding goes,” the duchess continued as the duke merely sat and listened. “I have scheduled the ceremony at Hanover Square.”
Louisa’s mouth opened, but she stopped any words of protest before they slipped out. Her mother turned slightly, raising her brow in question.
“Miss Morgan.” The duke’s low voice filled the room for the first time since they arrived, his deep-blue eyes finding hers. “Did you have something you would like to add?”
Well, if she was to be a duchess, she might as well start now. She wanted to make Violet proud, after all. “I would prefer a small ceremony outside of town.”
The duchess scoffed as Louisa’s mother spun toward her.
“Miss Morgan,” the duchess began, “I am sure you can imagine why that simply won’t do—”
“I will procure a special license tomorrow,” the duke interrupted.
