Page 30 of The Wrong Duke

“Oh, it’s not that hard,” Martha waved him down with a sigh. “Honestly, you men. You want to rule the world but try and pick out a nice dress, and you become as simple as a baby dropped on its head at birth.”

“Miss Forbes...” Lady Lindstone chastised. “That is really not appropriate.”

“Oh, I agree,” Lord Malnor chuckled. “It’s lucky your father isn’t here, Miss Forbes. I’d hate to think what he would say if he heard you speaking like that.”

“My father wouldn’t set foot in a dress shop if you paid him all the money in England,” Martha joked. “So, I think we’re going to be all right.”

“Lucky for you,” Lord Malnor laughed.

Lady Lindstone eyed the pair with a warning glare that might not have told them directly that she wished for them to behave but was suggestive enough that they both chose that moment to stop their joking and close their mouths. A nod of the head next, satisfied with the result, and she was back on her daughter.

“Now, Amelia — Amelia!” she snapped.

“Hmm?” Amelia looked up again. “Oh, sorry, Mother. What were you saying.”

Her mother looked ready to bark at her like a rabid dog, but she seemed to realize that she was in mixed company, some of whom might not appreciate a mother chastising her adult daughter so openly. So rather than that, she pursed her lips together and widened her eyes at Amelia in warning to which Amelia forced an apologetic smile.

“As I was saying,” her mother then continued, “what do you think of this one?”

Finally, Amelia had the sense of mind to pay attention. She looked at the material that her mother was holding before her, a ghastly maroon color made from a thick cotton weave that she knew would look horrid on her: no shape, frumpy, not dissimilar to a potato sack. Her nose curled and she opened her mouth to dismiss the choice outright —

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” her mother cut her off before she could say anything.

“She’s right,” the seamstress stepped in and lifted the material from Lady Lindstone, letting it flow through her fingers. “And once I get my hands on it, the dress it will make...” She uttered an excited squeal. “It will be like a dream. You see, M’Lord,” she then addressed Lord Malnor, “it’s not so much about picking a dress as it is the material and color. Once that is selected, I step in and weave my magic. She will look like a princess, I assure you.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And I see that look on your face,” the seamstress chuckled at Amelia. “But your mother has a good eye, and I promise that come next week, once you try the dress on, you won’t want to take it off.”

“If you say so,” Amelia accepted lamely.

Her mother eyed her still, again caught between calling out Amelia’s vagueness this morning but knowing that now wasn’t the time. She’d gotten Amelia to the tailor, after all, and had now managed to pick out a coloring that she seemed to think would suit her daughter. And all while, Lord Malnor tagged along, playing the part of suitor, even if he wasn’t technically designated as such.

Really, the morning should have been counted as a huge success. It was arguably the first time that Lord Malnor had been able to speak with Amelia without every other word being interrupted by the Duke. And with her mother and Martha there also, it took away some of the pressure and perceived awkwardness that might have reared its ugly head because Amelia had never been very good at flirting, even worse when the man she was flirting with was one whom she had no desires for.

But Amelia couldn’t find it within herself to care. And she certainly couldn’t find it within herself to play the role that her father was expecting. As to the reason for this? Well, that reason was with them also, standing toward the back of the tailor, watching but saying nothing, nearly invisible with the way he’d been acting all morning.

“What do you think, Your Grace?” Lord Malnor chuckled as he strode across the small store to where his best friend was lurking. “Do you understand any of this?”

“Hmm?” His Grace looked up, apparently having not heard the question.

“I said, do you understand any of this? Although that look on your face is answer enough,” Lord Malnor chortled. “I told you earlier, man, there’s no need for you to be here. Truly, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.”

“We wanted a man’s eye is why,” Amelia’s mother was quick to interject. She strode to Lord Malnor and gripped him around the bicep. “It’s all well and good for us women to dress as we must, but it is you dear gentleman we’re aiming to impress.” A soft titter. “So, I ask you again, what do you think?”

“I think it’s a lovely choice,” Lord Malnor said pleasantly. “Your Grace?”

“Hmm?”

Lord Malnor frowned with a sense of worry. “The material Lady Lindstone has picked out for Miss Baker. What are your thoughts?”

“Oh, yes, lovely,” he said vaguely, not even looking at the selection. “A fine choice.”

As daft as Amelia had been behaving all morning, it was nothing compared to the Duke. When her mother had announced their intentions for the day, that being heading into town to shop for a dress for next week’s ball, she had insisted that Lord Malnor join. Typically, the Duke had then intervened and said he would also be eager to tag along. It wasn’t a surprise in the least, and while Lady Lindstone couldn’t refuse his request, it was clear she was not happy about it. Not one little bit.

But Amelia’s mother needn’t have worried because from the moment they had climbed in the carriage and started the journey into London, His Grace had barely spoken a word.

Amelia watched the Duke as subtly as she could, careful that he not see her doing so. Although to be fair, she could have walked right up to the man and put herself within an inch of where he was standing, and he might still not have noticed. All morning, His Grace had ignored Amelia as if she did not exist.

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