Page 1 of The Scarred Duchess Deal
ChapterOne
“How can anybody expect to create beautiful works of art with something so hideous in the room?”
The words hung in the air like pungent smoke. They lingered, unwarranted and cruel as the entirety of Anna Windrop’s embroidery group exchanged nervous glances. They all knew who Dorothea Abernathy was referring to – it was sheer ingrained social politeness that kept their eyes off the person in question. Anna could feel the burden of conversation shift to her. It was her home, her drawing room, and her embroidery group after all. Each of the members looked to her to smooth over the faux pas so that they could resume their needlework.
Anna laughed uncomfortably. She hoped that she might be able to pass off the rude comment as being attributed to Dorothea’s old age. That was no excuse for rudeness, but it was better to blame that than for Anna to admit that it might have been a mistake to invite the elderly woman in the first place. It was not as if Dorothea’s hands were steady enough to hold the needle anyway. They had not been able to display a single one of her creations in years. “Good heavens, Dorothea, your tongue wags more freely with each birthday you celebrate.”
Mercifully, the others in the room joined in the nervous laughter as if somehow they could move forward.
“More tea?” Anna added in hopes of changing the subject further as she glanced at her niece and ward from the corner of her eye. Tessa Windrop kept her eyes trained down on the work in her hands. She had sat in the darkest corner of the room on purpose hoping that it would draw less attention to her and her… disfigurations. She hated that the heat in her face was likely to cause a blush of embarrassment that would be witnessed by everyone in the room. She could feel their eyes turn to her one at a time… but only one was outright staring at her. Tessa knew that if she looked up, her cousin Sophie would only laugh at her. She would do so in a way not to be noticed by her mother, Anna, but Tessa would be embarrassed all over again. There was not a thing she could do about it either – the embroidery group was the thing that her aunt loved most in the whole world… disrupting it would be hell for the entire household.
Needles started to move over canvases. Brightly colored bits of thread started to pass from one hand to the other again. Anna exhaled slowly. It seemed as if the worst was over – but she was wrong.
“Perhaps if she wore a little bit more rouge it would be less noticeable?” Another woman interjected. She had the decency to phrase it as if it were a helpful suggestion instead of an outright insult – but Tessa was just as offended as if she had not bothered.
“No! Only ladies of the night wear rouge that bright!”
“Then perhaps a large ribbon bound around a bonnet at all times?”
“Oh, or a decorative hat!”
“Perhaps, instead, she could style her hair in a different fashion? You know, I have heard that the women in France–”
“Do not be daft. That would only attractmoreattention to her! We wish to havefewerpeople looking at her!”
Tessa knew that if she bothered saying even a single word in her own defense that it would only offend them and make matters worse. It was all that she could do to keep herself focused on the needle and thread in her hand. She needed to make neat, orderly lines in order for the picture to come out clearly. She needed to ensure that her hands stopped shaking so that she would not stab herself once more with the tip of the needle.
Tessa ought not to let their comments get to her; it was hardly her fault that she had been so badly disfigured. Despite knowing better, it was nearly impossible to let their comments simply roll off of her back. No matter how many times they insulted her it stung every time. She would not have wished her experience on even her very worst enemy. Yet, like clockwork, each month when her aunt’s embroidery group met, the conversation would ultimately shift to her and how uncomfortable her hideous face made everybody in the room.
Later, when it was over, she would ask her aunt yet again if she could be allowed to skip the meetings. Her aunt, like always, would cry and pretend not to understand why her niece would ever wish to hurt her feelings by not attending. It always made her feel so guilty that Tessa ended up apologizing for being hurt and retreating to the safety and solitude of her room.
Exactly where she wished she was right this minute.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Needle through the fabric and back over again. She tried her best to tune out the conversation. They did not wish for her input anyway; it would not shift in topic from her scars until they were certain that she would not give them a reaction and thus further ammunition to torment her with. They wanted her reaction. Sometimes, Tessa was of the mind that they wished for her to apologize for having the nerve to look the way that she did. As if she would have chosen such a thing.
Was it really too much to hope that one of these months her aunt might come to her defense? Just once, perhaps? It would take so little effort on Anna’s part to ask them to stop. At any moment, she could simply declare that her niece’s scars were no longer up for discussion, and they would all be forced into silence. Yet Anna cared more for their opinions and the popularity of her group than something so silly as her niece’s happiness.
Do not cry.
She told herself over and over again in her mind: it would be over soon. Her silent compliance would result in better treatment from her aunt for the next few days. That would be worth it. That thought brought her comfort. Perhaps she would even garner enough favor with the woman in order to get the new dress; there was one she had had her eye on the last couple of times they had ventured into town.
Her daydreaming about the pretty gown was interrupted when Sophie gasped loudly. Tessa looked up just in time to see Sophie quickly re-reading a missive in her hand and then clutching it to her chest. Tessa twisted in her seat to see the servant who had delivered the letter leaving the room. She glanced over to Anna who looked slightly irritated that the letter had been given to Sophie and not to herself.
Glancing up just long enough to ensure that all of the eyes in the room were on her, she grinned wickedly. Sophie was known to give the servants terrible orders without checking with her mother first. Sadly for her, they were all intimidated by Sophie and tended to do as she said until the master of the house – her father – got involved. Also, unluckily for Anna, her husband preferred their daughter to his wife and so often sided with Sophie.
Sophie’s ego was overfed as it was without being further engorged by the knowledge that her mother was often jealous of her own daughter.
“Good gracious, child, what a sound that was,” Anna subtly chastised.
Never to be deterred from attention, Sophie ignored her mother’s comment. She jumped up from her chair and spun around with the letter still clutched to her chest. She all but leaped for joy over whatever it was. “Oh, what lovely news!”
“Well, are you going to share with the group, child? We are in fits of suspense!” one of the women said.
“I have been invited to a ball!” Sophie giggled happily. Her whole face was alight with anticipation as she spoke.
Anna’s cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as she rose and snatched the letter from her daughter’s hands and quickly scanned over the contents. She exhaled in relief. “We have all been invited to the ball. What a lovely thing indeed. I shall have your father write back our intentions as quickly as possible.”
“I shall need new slippers – oh, and perhaps new gloves, Mama, do you agree?” Sophie moved to sit next to Anna’s chair so that she could beg more effectively.
