Page 26 of A Duke in Autumn

Even if she never saw the Duke again, she would treasure the memories of this time in Bath – for she suspected that she would never be quite the same again, now that he had, simply by being himself, shown her the pleasure that could be had from small rebellions.

“Thank you, Madame Bergeron.”

“My Lady, might I ask you a question in return?”

“Of course Madame. I will answer if I can. What is it that you wish to ask?”

Madame considered her a moment, smiling.

“My Lady, when you first came to see me, you brought a few sketches, then more when you ordered gowns. I know that you draw these, that you design gowns for your own entertainment – but… have you considered doing more than that with them? Your eye for shape and structure is excellent, and your designs are creative, without being excessive. I would… if you do not find it overly presumptuous of me… like to purchase designs from you.”

Eugenia gasped. She could not… should not… yet she wanted to – it was highly improper for a young lady to be involved in trade, to even consider what Madame Bergeron was suggesting, yet… she wanted to see her designs made real, even if for other women to wear. The part of her that was always well behaved screamed ‘no!’ but the part of her that had begun to step outside the walls of propriety wanted to say ‘yes!’ instantly.

“Madame… I… I am flattered. But… I will need to think on this. It is a most unusual thing that you suggest.”

“I am very much aware of that. But I could not allow someone so talented to walk away, without at least asking. You need not answer now – at any time, ever, should you decide to provide me with designs, simply write to inform me – I will await each day’s mail, from now on, with hope.”

“I will certainly write, if I decide to do as you ask. That is all I can say for now.”

“That is enough, my Lady. Thank you.”

Eugenia turned to the section of the shop where rolls and rolls of ribbon were displayed and concentrated on choosing a few to buy, so that her mother would not seek any further explanation for her visit to Madame Bergeron.

Her business there concluded, she collected Nell, and waved for the carriage. All the way back to the house, her mind replayed the conversation with Madame Bergeron. She was not sure which aspect of it thrilled her most – that the Duke had done such a scandalously daring thing as to have ordered a gown made for her, to her own design, or that Madame Bergeron had suggested that her designs were so desirable as to be worth purchasing.

In the end, she concluded that the worst thing about it all was that she could not tell anyone about either thing, without doing terrible damage to her reputation.

~~~~~

The days after the Ball passed all too rapidly, and Morris felt the weight of his responsibilities rushing back in upon him. Within the week, he would need to depart for Oakthorpe Grange – as idyllic as the weeks in Bath had been, life could not go on like that forever. His mother would already be planning dinners and other social occasions, supposedly to celebrate his return, but actually to allow her to place eligible young women in his path.

His Aunt declared that she would miss him, no matter that he was an unmitigated rogue, and he had to admit that he would miss her company too – for her wit was sharp, and she was generally undemanding and cheerful.

When the morning of his departure came, he sat in the parlour with her, taking tea one last time, as his valet and footman carried his trunks out of the house, and packed them on the carriage.

Lady Bellinghaugh looked at him a little sadly as she nibbled delicately at a crumbly butter biscuit.

“Your mother will be disappointed, when you come home still unbetrothed. I must admit, although I’d never try to force your hand, I had hoped that you might develop some degree of affection for Lady Eugenia. The girl is far more clever that she lets people see, and she would make you a fine Duchess – no risk of offending the arbiters of society with that one!”

Morris grinned, shaking his head a little.

“I tend to agree that there is far more to her than the perfectly presented surface. But I told you when I got here – I’ll not marry until I’m ready, no matter who pushes me towards the young ladies of the ton. And I’ve yet to find myself so smitten by any of them that I’d want to propose!”

Lady Bellinghaugh gave a sharp little snort of laughter.

“No? I rather thought that you were at least a little affected by Lady Eugenia. It was all over your face when she walked into the Ball in that delightful blue gown.”

“My dear Aunt, perhaps age is causing you to imagine things? Really, I remain unsmitten, I assure you.”

“Believe what you will, my boy, but remember what I said to you at the Ball – if you are too stubborn and proud to admit your feelings, then some other man will charm her and marry her. Picture that in your mind, and see if you like the idea. I’d wager you won’t, at all. Now, they’ve finished packing, from the sound of it, so you’d best be off. Just make sure that you visit me again soon.”

Morris rose, and bowed over her hand.

“I will, indeed, visit again soon – your house has always been my refuge from the cares of my responsibilities and the importunities of the rest of my family.” Then, seeing the slight glitter of unshed tears in her eyes, he stepped forward and embraced her for a moment. “And I promise you – when I do decide to marry, you will be the first to know, so that you can remind me just how right your predictions were.”

“Good – I will hold you to that. Now be off with you.”

He stepped back, gave her a flourishing bow, and turned to go, feeling her eyes follow him out the door.