Page 14 of A Duke in Autumn

Perhaps, perhaps not. He paused when he realised that he was passing a large modiste’s shop. From Lady Annet’s words, he surmised that they had visited the shop, and he wondered, idly, what they might have ordered.

The crimson gown in the window was stunning. Unbidden, his mind threw up an image of Lady Eugenia wearing such a gown. She would look magnificent in it, with her richly red highlighted dark hair, pale skin, and blue eyes, she could carry off such a colour, where many women would not be able to. And the design of it… it would display her well-shaped body to perfection. A flash of heat went through him at the thought.

He walked on a few steps, but the image would not leave his mind. She would carry off wearing such a gown with the same subtle defiance that showed when she disliked his teasing remarks. Those who disapproved would be met with a frosty expression and sparks of fire in her eyes, that they dared to judge her. It did not matter that she had, it seemed, always tried to be perfectly behaved – that had not made her dull, as he had expected, rather, the perfect shell hid a strength and courage which surprised him. He saw it more clearly, every time he tried to disrupt that perfection – she defended herself sharply, yet in a perfectly polite manner – but her eyes said that she would, in truth, like to say far more, and not all of it polite.

She fascinated him, as few women ever had, simply because she was such a contradiction, in every way. There was nothing more to it. His teasing of her was simply a way to amuse himself, these few months in Bath, nothing more. Suddenly, decisively, he turned back, and went into the modiste’s.

Chapter Seven

“How may I assist you, my Lord?”

The modiste eyed him curiously – it was rare for a gentleman to enter her shop, alone. Generally, if they came in at all, it was in attendance on one lady or another. This man, she had not seen before – but his attire spoke of wealth and position, elegant yet not ostentatious, and extremely well made. Was he here to request something made for a mistress? He seemed a little nervous, a little uncertain. She waited.

“Madame…”

“Bergeron.”

“Madame Bergeron, this will no doubt seem an odd question, but please humour me. Did two young ladies come into your shop, a short while ago?”

She hesitated – what did he want with the young women? They were most respectable – why would a man enquire after them? He obviously saw her hesitation, for he drew out a calling card and handed it to her.

‘Morris Woodfield, Duke of Oakthorpe.’

The crisp black text was lightly embossed on card of the highest quality. A Duke! In her shop! She could not imagine that a man of such high station would have an interest of the wrong kind in two young ladies of the nobility. And a man of such station would have the wealth to spend a great deal in her shop if she pleased him.

~~~~~

For a minute, he thought that the modiste would refuse to answer him. He handed her his card, and watched as she read it. The usual transformation happened. Her expression went from doubtful to avaricious to over-helpfulness. It was ludicrous, really, the impact that his title had on people – as if a man of high station could not also be a blackguard. She put the card down, carefully, on her countertop.

“Yes, Your Grace, there were two young ladies here a short while ago.”

“Did they order anything? Or purchase anything?”

She gave him that considering look again, as if she was fully aware of how odd his questions were, but apparently decided to humour him, he assumed, in the hope of future patronage.

“They did not.”

Well, that was a little startling. Why else did young ladies visit a modiste? What could Lady Eugenia want from a modiste, if it was not to secretly order a gown or other item, which warranted a clandestine, chaperoneless excursion?

“Then… forgive me for being blunt… why on earth were they here?”

The modiste was silent, as if thinking, then gave a slight nod.

“I see no reason not to tell you, Your Grace. They came for my opinion. One of the young ladies is quite talented, it seems. She draws designs for gowns, and wished to know if I thought them of a quality suitable for making.”

“Oh? And are they – the designs – are they good enough that you might make one up?”

“They are. They are unique, and well-conceived. I would be happy to make one or more gowns from those designs, and the young lady is of a shape to wear them well. But she declined to order one today, although her friend assured me that she would return to do so soon. I am not so certain of that, of course.”

An idea struck him – a rather outrageous idea. But one worth investigating.

“Indeed, you are wise to view such a statement with doubt. Having seen those sketches, could you make a gown to that design, even if you did not see the sketch again, do you think? And one more question, if you will – which of the young ladies is the artist?”

“Perhaps… one in particular caught my attention, but still, it would be difficult, for I only saw them for a minute or so. I could, of course try, Your Grace, should I be commissioned to do so, but it would be exceptionally challenging. As to your other question - the dark haired one, Your Grace.”

He nodded, and looked around the room. Another fascinating and hidden aspect to Lady Eugenia.

More and more, he suspected that what was beneath the shell of perfect manners was more complex than almost anyone thought.