“It is important to get it right the first time,” the dowager duchess told her gently. “The ribbon will be too crumpled otherwise, though I do believe we have managed to salvage this one.” She turned to address Juliette and Lady Everly. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely,” Juliette said. She was already heading through the door.
They arrived at a dressmaker’s shop fifteen minutes later to the sound of a tinkling bell as they filed inside. Stepping further into the well-organized space, Amelia admired the rich display of color all rolled up into bolts of exquisite fabric. She’d never seen anything like it before. A dressmaker had been called to Huntley House when she and her siblings had first arrived so she’d had no need to visit a modiste shop. Standing here now, she couldn’t help but marvel at the vibrancy. It stood in stark contrast to the dull browns and grays that dressed the people of St. Giles.
“Mesdames!” The animated voice that sang through the air belonged to an older woman whose slender figure suggested she took great care with what she ate. “Vot a lovely surprise! It ’as been far too long since you’ve graced me viz your presence.”
Her accent reminded Amelia of a woman she’d rather forget, the French undertones pulling her back to a place filled with nothing but sorrow and neglect as her mother had cast her family aside in favor of seeking wealth and adventure. Shuddering in response to the unwanted memories that threatened, she made a stoic effort to push them all back by focusing her attention on a lovely display of lace laid out to her right.
“May I introduce the Duke of Huntley’s sisters?” Lady Everly said. “They will be requiring evening gowns for some upcoming balls and soirees. At least ten, I should think.”
Amelia spun toward the dowager countess. “Ten? But we have only received three invitations!”
“Yes, but a lady ought to have more than one gown to choose from, not to mention that more invitations may arrive, some possibly lacking the notice that would be required in order to request something new.” Lady Everly broke off her explanation for a moment so she could ask the dressmaker to fetch a selection of pattern plates for them. She then continued in a sensible tone. “You are the sisters of a duke, and as such, you must look the part, which means you must outshine all other young ladies. Especially if you are to make matches befitting your status. And since I know your brother can afford the expense and that his deepest wish is for both of you to excel, I believe we should think of this as an investment rather than some unnecessary exercise in excess for you to feel guilty about.”
“Indeed, you must not feel guilty,” the dowager duchess said. “An outing such as this is meant to be relished and enjoyed.”
Feeling as though every argument she might have presented had just been dismantled, Amelia found herself at a loss for words as the dressmaker waved them toward a seating arrangement surrounding a table on which a large pile of designs and swatches had been put on display. “These arrived from Paris last week,” the woman explained. “Please, take your time to go through them while I select some suggestions for trim.”
Hesitating, Amelia watched as the other ladies reached for some of the sketches and began leafing through them. Torn between the instinct she had to save money rather than throw it away on unnecessary fripperies, and the tempting extravagance of wrapping herself in exquisite luxury, Amelia carefully picked up a handful of fashion plates and allowed herself to study them closely. Each design seemed to outshine the other, overwhelming Amelia with an indecisiveness she’d never thought to experience before. Lord help her, how was she to choose between all of these glorious dresses? She couldn’t imagine.
But as the minutes ticked by and she made her way through the remaining possibilities, a few of the gowns began to stand out. “I really like these,” she said as she held up five designs for the rest to see.
“Ahoui,” the dressmaker said, materializing next to Amelia’s shoulder. “And viz your generous bosom, ze drape vill bemerveilleux.”
Heat rose to Amelia’s cheeks as she lowered the sketches and turned them over in her lap, as if doing so would discourage the scrutiny with which she was now being regarded by Lady Everly and the dowager duchess. Juliette, thank God, was too distracted by her own perusal of various designs to have paid much attention to the dressmaker’s comment.
“Allow me to take a look,” Lady Everly said. She held her hand toward Amelia and waited.
Wishing she could escape somehow, Amelia cast a longing glance at the door before reluctantly handing over the fashion plates to the dowager countess. The lady considered them each in turn. Pointing to one, she spoke to the dressmaker. “Perhaps we can lower this neckline a little and trim it with lace?”
“An excellent recommendation,” the dressmaker said. She quickly produced a length of pretty trim. “And if ve bead it viz crystals, ze gentlemen vill find it impossible not to admire ze young lady’s charms.”
Oh, if only a hole would open up in the floor and swallow her whole, Amelia thought while another blush swept up the back of her neck.
“Perfect,” the dowager duchess declared. “Just as long as she does not look vulgar.”
“I assure you zat everyzing vill be in good taste, though I vould like to suggest a bold contrast for ze trim—especially where Lady Amelia is concerned, since I feel her complexion will allow for it vizout issue.”
By the time they returned home after further visits to a cobbler and milliner, Amelia was on the edge of exhaustion. The idea of taking a lengthy nap and resting her feet was an impossible one to realize, however, since Lady Everly invited the dowager duchess to come inside for refreshments.
“Pierson, can you please ask a maid to bring up some lemonade and sandwiches?” the dowager countess asked while parcels containing their shopping were handed over to a couple of footmen. “We will take it in the ballroom.”
Alerted by the unusual request, Amelia couldn’t help but dread what would happen next as she followed the older women through to the grandest room of the house. “They don’t look the least bit tired,” Juliette whispered. “Why don’t they look tired?”
“I suspect they’ve been raised to withstand the most trying endeavors without any hint of fatigue.”
Juliette sighed. “I was really looking forward to settling down with a book in the library after our busy morning.”
“Chin up, Julie,” Amelia muttered. “At least you were allowed to select modest gowns while I am destined to make my next public appearance breasts first.”
Her sister’s chuckle was cut short when they stepped into the ballroom where a couple of maids were already preparing a table while a footman set up some chairs. Amelia stared. The fact that Pierson had managed to convey orders to these servants so swiftly was truly remarkable.
“We will take half an hour’s rest,” the dowager duchess announced. She gave Amelia and Juliette a once-over. “And then the two of you are going to practice your dance steps so we can be sure they are up to par for the Elmwood ball on Friday.”
Having risen early, Thomas had gone over his accounts with his secretary that morning before discussing the raises he had in mind for a couple of particularly diligent servants. He’d then considered the expenses required to fix the roofs for some of his tenants in Cornwall. With autumn looming around the corner, it would be best to take care of it now while the weather remained agreeable, so he’d penned a letter to his caretaker approving the work.
Once this had been accomplished, he’d taken his carriage from his residence on Weymouth and Wimpole streets directly to White Hall. There he spent the better part of three hours hoping the bill he’d suggested might be brought to attention by the current prime minister, the Earl of Liverpool. When it became clear it would not, he made a mental note to address the man personally at his first available opportunity.
