“Because I know you know the best ones to call on,” Cedric said.
Rolling his eyes, Silas said, “You are aggravating.”
“You’re used to it,” Cedric said.
A knock on the door had him looking up, “Come in, Ariadne.”
Ariadne entered the room, coat on, while tugging on her gloves, while Emily was beside her. Her smile widened, “Lord Stromwell, glad to see you.” To Cedric, she said, “We’re off to go see the Hamdens.”
“Safe journey,” he said. “Emily, behave.”
“Yes, Papa,” the girl said brightly.
With a jaunty wave, Ariadne steered the child out of the room, and Cedric noted how… forlornly Silas looked at the girl. Concerned, Cedric asked, “Is there something wrong with Emily?”
“No,” Silas said, while shaking his head. “It’s just… every time I see her, I see her mother. I know you see it in her, too.”
“I do,” Cedric replied, his shoulders sagging. “There are days when I wonder if it was the best thing for her to have her mother with her and me gone, or if her mother would have abandoned her, too.”
“That is…very morbid.” Silas shook himself as if he was ridding himself of a splash of cold water. “Do I sense a change with you about your dear new bride?”
Cedric grunted, “I’m getting accustomed to her presence.”
Staring at him long enough that Cedric ticked up a brow, Silas demanded, “If she births a boy child, I mandate you name him after me.”
Eyes narrowing, Cedric replied, “You have an overinflated sense of self.”
Pushing away, Silas laughed, “I do, but we both know I’ll get what I want.”
“Find every detail of Draven’s life,” he called to the man’s back.
“I’ll send you my bill,” Silas said over his shoulder.
“Your Grace,” Hunt bowed to Ariadne. “I have a package for you.”
Looking up from her jewelry box, Ariadne spotted the wide, white box in the butler’s arms with anticipation. The stamp of Modiste’s Redmonde had arrived, and she took it with a thankful smile.
It was the night before the inaugural ballroom as the Duchess of Holloway, and while preparations were being made, Ariadne still felt anxious about it. She did know a surefire way to belay that worry though; while Cedric was still working, she took her box to the rooms her sisters, who had arrived last night, were sharing.
Her mother, however, was not attending, and while it hurt Ariadne, she understood why. She must still feel guilty about tricking the duke into marrying her.
One day, we’ll have to do a sit-down and remove any bad blood from amongst us.
Knocking on the door, Ariadne called out. “Let me in, girls.”
When the door opened, Celestine’s eyes widened as she stepped away. “What is that?”
Her sisters were all dressed in variations of the voluminous, tent-like nightrails Ariadne had recent stuffed into the deepest corner of her wardrobe.
“This, girls, is the gown I want to wear to the ball tomorrow night.” She said as she set the box down. “I want all of you to have gowns by this modiste when your proper reintroduction to the Ton comes about.”
Celestine bounced on her bed, “Open it already.”
Prying the cover off, Ariadne reached in and gingerly lifted the gown out; the cloth was not blue nor green, but some extraordinary, shimmering shade in between.
The silk chiffon flowed like water, and she gazed at the square, off-the-shoulder neck, edged with frothy, sea-green lace that emphasized the purity of the skin above, while the full skirts frothed to the floor.
“Gadz,” Celestine gasped.
