The Dowager Duchess’ nostrils flared. “It is improper and unfashionable.”
“And it ismydress that Papa is paying for. He would not be pleased to learn that you wish me to become someone I am not for the sake of fitting in with theton,” Isabelle said, her tone firm, daring the dowager to continue pushing her.
Though she tried her best to be agreeable, Papa had raised her to be strong in her beliefs and in who she was. He would bedisappointed if she gave in and agreed to a dress she did not like, just because another woman had declared it fashionable.
While she was in this foreign land, she would try her hardest to remain true to herself, even if that already seemed impossible within a couple of hours after docking.
The dowager scowled. “You simply do not understand. If you insist on continuing in this manner, your American personality is going to be your downfall. We must do all we can to distract potential suitors from that.”
“And that implies that you must dress me as if I’m a dowager instead of a young woman?” Isabelle asked, glancing over her shoulder at the former duchess. “While I appreciate the time and consideration you are putting into my dress, I can assure you that a neckline will not be my downfall any more than my personality.”
“How will you find a husband if you continue to act in such a way?” The Dowager Duchess planted her hands onto her hips while her daughters scampered in different directions.
Isabelle could not help her smile of amusement. She couldn’t blame the girls for disappearing to look at other beads and fabric in the shop. There was a part of her that wished she could do the same.
It was better that the duchess learned quickly that Isabelle could not be imposed upon. It would make for an easier relationship through the season.
Madame Renault looked at the Dowager Duchess. “The neckline is modest enough for a young woman of Miss Alden’s age. It will be suitable for the ball and I suspect that she will be one of the most beautiful women there.”
The Duchess sighed and pressed a hand to the side of her face. “She will not be if we cannot corral her into a more suitable dress. I do not know how Windham will find a husband for her.”
“I can hear you,” Isabelle said, keeping her tone light even though she wished to give the woman a proper lecture on manners. “And I have no interest in finding a husband this season.”
The duchess’ mouth dropped open before it snapped shut. She took several deep breaths and looked to the ceiling as though she was praying for strength.
Isabelle had seen Mama make the same face a thousand times.
“Youmustdesire a husband.”
“I do not.” Isabelle clasped her hands in front of her, rocking on her heels. “Though I may find one, I will not be approaching every man that spares me a glance and trying to convince him that I am the woman of his dreams. It is rather impractical and makes for the worst matches.”
“Perhaps that is for the best,” the duchess sneered. “A husband will not be easy to find when you are outspoken.”
“If I do find a husband, he should know who I am from the very beginning of our relationship.” Isabelle dropped her hands, smoothing her skirts close to her side, trying to picture what a smaller skirt would look like. “Don’t you believe that as well, Your Grace?”
The duchess’ mouth became more pinched. “I should think that you are seeking to drive away a potential match, not show him who you are.”
“Believe what you wish, Your Grace, but if there is a man who wishes to marry me, I hope he knows me for who I am because I do not plan on changing that after marriage.”
“If this is how Americans behave, then I should be terrified for the state of that country,” the Dowager Duchess said as Madame Renault giggled and noted down some measurements on a scrap of parchment.
“It is unfortunate that the rumors from America have followed her to England,” a young woman whispered to her mother as she passed by.
Her mother stopped, chuckling and staring at Isabelle in the mirror. “It was quite the scandal from what I heard. Though, she is an American and not much can be expected from her. Certainly not good breeding or following proper societal standards.”
Isabelle scoffed, turning to face the women. “In America we do not call it a scandal. I would consider it malicious gossip spreadby women who know nothing of what they are speaking and seek to elevate their daughters by diminishing the reputations of other young women they consider to be competition.”
“Miss Alden!” the Duchess admonished.
Lady Evangeline laughed and handed her mother several bundles of embroidery thread. “Really, Mama, you cannot be upset with Miss Alden. Miss Fitzroy and Lady Fitzroy have come looking to insult Miss Alden. It is not her fault that she has bested them at their own game.”
Isabelle gave Lady Evangeline a grateful smile while the duchess stood in front of her daughter, shooting her a withering look that silenced her.
Lady Victoria and Lady Hyacinth appeared with little treasures of their own, standing to the side as Lady Fitzroy sniffed and lifted her nose into the air.
“Your Grace, I see that your ward is in desperate need of etiquette classes before your return to theton.” Lady Fitzroy placed a hand on her daughter’s back, nudging her through the modiste.
The pair strode to the doors on the far side of the room. The bell chimed as they left the shop, passing the window with one last dirty look for Isabelle.
