“Indeed. An excellent suggestion, my dear,” Lady Ellinwood said in a rare show of approval. “I shall visit her on the morrow and request that she set aside some fabric. If there is any left, that is, given that I am certain eager mothers will be knocking on Mrs. Broomall’s door come sunrise requesting to be dressed just like the future Duchess of Hanover.”
“Oh, drats.” Sterling snapped his fingers. “And I was so hoping for that coat.”
“Not to worry,” Rosemary said cheerfully. “Given that I shouldn’t wear this gown again after showcasing it at such a public venue, I’m sure Mrs. Broomall can salvage enough of the fabric to make a formal dress jacket. Trousers, too. Maybe even a waistcoat or a hat! You don’t mind bows, do you, Your Grace?”
His resulting glare roused a cheeky smile from her lips and set her nerves at ease just in time for their arrival at Marlborough House.
Set far back behind a towering iron fence and thick green shrubbery, the London residence of Prince Albert and Princess Alexandra was a sandstone replication of a Grecian temple in the classical Greek revival style that had recently taken both Europe and America by storm. Aside from the pillars lining the front, everything was squarely cut with an emphasis on long, straight lines and perfect symmetry.
The manor was three stories high and every window shone from within, illuminating the entire house and its surrounding gardens and terraces in a soft, welcoming glow as lively music spilled through the open front doors and London’s elite poured from their carriages to rush up the marble staircase in a convergence of obscene wealth and privilege.
To Rosemary’s relief, Mrs. Broomall wasn’t the only modiste who had outfitted her client in a bold color. The Royal Gala was the place to see and be seen, and no one wanted to go unnoticed.
There were gowns of blue and yellow, purple and green. Some women had peacock feathers in their hair while others carried mink stoles draped over their shoulders, the poor animal’s fur dyed to match their dresses. The men were just as vibrant in jackets of emerald satin lined with gold brocade and powdered wigs that heralded back to a bygone era. When she questioned Sterling about it, he merely shrugged.
“Those must be the composers. Serious lot. Each one fancies themselves to be the next Bach or Beethoven. I’m sure they believe that if they dress the part, the symphonies will ride in on a German unicorn of inspiration.”
Her lips twitched. “I see.”
Smaller carriages and clusters of guests made way for their town coach as the matching grays pranced straight up to the main entrance, feathered plumes bouncing with every step. Sterling helped her dismount before he ducked back into the coach for Lady Ellinwood, leaving Rosemary temporarily standing by herself; the sole recipient of dozens of curious stares. Awkwardly linking her hands behind her, she managed a small, stiff smile. This was, without a doubt, her worst nightmare. And again, she wondered if she had what it took to be a duchess. To parade herself about like a show pony for the masses. A different ball every night. An endless stream of people to impress. Names to remember. And what about Sir Reginald?
She’d left him at home for the Royal Gala because, well, it was the Royal Gala. But he did so enjoy their outings together. No one minded when a wallflower sat by herself in a corner with a squirrel on her shoulder. She was nothing more than an obscure footnote. But what would they say when she was a duchess?
She jumped when she felt a light pressure at the small of her back.
“What’s the matter?” Sterling asked with concern as he removed his hand. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“I…I am not sure that I can do this,” she said in a low voice as they proceeded through the crowd, stopping occasionally to exchange pleasantries. On Sterling’s other side, Lady Ellinwood was in her element.
Having grown up the eldest daughter of an earl before lowering herself to marry a mere viscount, she was accustomed to the attention that came along with rank and title. If Rosemary didn’t know any better, she’d almost suspect that her grandmother was sporting a real, honest-to-goodness smile. Which only made her feel worse.
“Do what?” Sterling asked.
But before she could muster a response, they were approached by an older, robust-looking gentleman boasting a salt-and-pepper moustache and his lady wife with chestnut hair threaded lightly with gray and hazel eyes that flicked curiously over Rosemary before going to Sterling.
“Your Grace,” said the man in a booming, hearty voice. “I’d heard you would be in attendance. Good to see you, good to see you!”
“Lord Asterly, you old goat.” The two men shook hands. “It is my great pleasure to introduce my fiancée, Miss Rosemary Stanhope, and her grandmother, Lady Ellinwood.”
Rosemary smiled tentatively. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Ellinwood before she spied a circle of her close friends standing right inside the doorway. Excusing herself, she marched away, her cane striking a loud staccato on the marble stone.
“I must admit,” Lord Asterly began in a near shout, “my wife and I have been eager to meet the young woman who got this one to finally propose.” He nudged Sterling with his elbow. “Isn’t that right, Lady Asterly?”
Lady Asterly patted her husband’s arm. “Don’t embarrass the young couple, dear.”
“Embarrass them?” he blustered. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’mcongratulatingthem.”
“Senility,” Sterling remarked mildly. “Terrible disease. Our thoughts and prayers are with you, Lady Asterly.”
Her mouth curved. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Senile?” Lord Asterly huffed. “I’m as healthy as a horse!”
“And deaf as a naked mole rat,” his wife mumbled under her breath.
Rosemary’s ears perked. Courtesy of her extensive reading, she knew that naked mole rats were, in fact, mostly deaf. Without hair cells to amplify sound, they relied mostly on their sense of touch to navigate their underground burrows. As they were native to the dry, arid regions of East Africa and did not do well in captivity, their existence was not widely known. Until now, she’d never heard anyone reference them before.
