Page 76 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

He must have lost his mind.

CHAPTER 14

Augusta had expected the morning to be pleasant. She had not expected it to become an argument before the first bolt of silk had been unrolled.

“You cannot possibly wear that shade again,” Temperance declared, standing before Augusta with one hand planted on her hip and the other holding up a length of pale blue silk as though it had personally offended her. “I refuse to believe that the Duchess of Ravenhill intends to appear at her first ball after marriage dressed exactly as she did during her second Season. There must be some distinction between Augusta Cluett, perfect debutante, and Augusta Parsons, married woman with a duke at home.”

Augusta, who had been perfectly fond of the blue until Temperance began insulting it, looked from the silk to her friend. “I was unaware that marriage altered one’s complexion. The color suited me before, and unless something dramatic happened to my skin during the wedding ceremony, I imagine it still does.”

“It does suit you,” Charity said from the settee nearby, where she had arranged half a dozen samples according to some system known only to herself. “That is precisely why she keeps choosing it. Augusta has always preferred colors she knows she can wear without thinking about them. Blue, green, cream, occasionally lavender when Mama insisted upon it. She has never been adventurous with color, and I do not see why becoming a duchess should suddenly require her to dress like a tropical bird.”

Temperance turned slowly toward her. “I said nothing about tropical birds. I merely suggested she might wear something that announces her arrival before she has crossed half the room.”

“That sounds remarkably like a tropical bird,” Alethea observed from beside the window, where she was examining a length of ivory silk with considerably more interest than she had shown Temperance’s collection of jewel tones.

Temperance gave her a wounded look. “You are both determined to destroy my vision.”

“Your vision,” Alethea replied, carrying the ivory toward Augusta, “appears to involve distracting everyone from Augusta herself. She does not require scarlet silk, gold embroidery, three rows of pearls, feathers, or whatever else you have been attempting to persuade Madame Laroque to sew onto her. She is already beautiful. If you put too much around her face, people will spend the evening admiring the gown instead of the woman wearing it.”

Augusta looked at Alethea with gratitude. “Thank you. At last, someone remembers that I am intended to remain visible beneath the dress.”

Temperance narrowed her eyes. “You are all cowards. That is what this is.”

Charity laughed and rose, carrying a dark green silk across the room. “No, we simply know Augusta. And Augusta will agree to something outrageous today because you have exhausted her, then wake tomorrow morning horrified and send the entire gown back before breakfast. Save us all the trouble.”

She held the green against Augusta’s shoulder, smoothing the fabric so that it caught the light, and Augusta’s attention finally sharpened. It was neither the soft green she often wore during the day nor the emerald Temperance had attempted to force upon her earlier. The shade was deeper, richer, almost like the leaves at Blackstone after rain.

“There,” Charity said, and her expression became immediately satisfied when Augusta reached out to touch it. “That is the one. I knew you would like it. You have always liked green when it is dark enough not to look childish.”

Temperance stepped closer and considered the effect in the mirror. “I admit the color is not terrible. But if we are permitting her to choose something sensible, then I insist upon having some influence over the cut. She is married now. There is absolutely no reason for her neckline to remain at the same respectable height it occupied when every mother in London was inspecting her as a potential daughter-in-law.”

Augusta turned her head. “I do hope you realize there are people in this shop who can hear you.”

“Of course there are. They are all women, Augusta. I assure you, none of them will be shocked to discover that you possess a bosom.”

Alethea closed her eyes.

Charity laughed outright.

Augusta felt heat rush into her cheeks. “Temperance, I invited you because you said you had excellent taste. You did not mention that this excellent taste came attached to public humiliation.”

“I am trying to help your marriage.”

“My marriage does not depend upon a neckline.”

Temperance gave her a long, meaningful look. “That is a very confident statement from a woman who has been married for only a few weeks.”

Alethea rescued Augusta before she could decide whether throwing a cushion at a duchess would be considered a serious breach of etiquette. “Leave her alone. A modest neckline need not be childish, and Augusta does not need to be displayed like a painting at auction merely because she has a husband. Let Madame Laroque shape the bodice properly, keep the sleeves simple, and perhaps add some embroidery at the hem. Nothing more.”

Temperance sighed so heavily that Madame Laroque, who had been pretending not to listen from the other side of the room, glanced over.

“This is what marriage to sensible men has done to both of you,” Temperance complained. “You have become practical.”

Alethea smiled. “Oliver would be astonished to hear that anyone has ever accused him of encouraging practicality.”

“That depends upon the subject,” Charity said. “Duncan is very practical until our son is involved. Then apparently every rule in the house ceases to apply because the child has smiled at him.”

Temperance immediately brightened. “Harper is the same with our daughter. He spent the first year insisting that he would be the strict parent because I am too indulgent. Do you know what I discovered last week? He has been giving her sugared almonds after dinner.”