Page 34 of A Duke to Steal Her
“Gina’s right,” Ava said gently, recognizing Emily’s anxiety despite her attempt to hide it. “You’ll be the most elegant lady there. And think: this will be your triumphant return to society. All those tedious weeks of hiding away will finally be behind you.”
Lady Ridgewell nodded approvingly from her position near the window. “My darling girl will outshine them all. Though perhaps we should consider the pale blue instead. It might be more modest for her first appearance.”
“Mama,” Ava said firmly, “Emily doesn’t need to hide in modest colors. She has nothing to be ashamed of.”
Emily closed her eyes briefly, feeling the weight of expectations settling around her like heavy silk. She would have to smile, make conversation, dance with appropriate partners, and pretend that she hadn’t tasted something different at Nightfell.
The shop bell chimed, and Juliana swept in with her usual composed authority.
“How are we progressing?” she asked, taking in the scene with sharp eyes.
“Splendidly,” Madame Rousseau replied. “Lady Emily looks magnificent.”
Juliana studied Emily’s reflection for a moment, then turned to the seamstress with ducal authority. “Madame Rousseau, might we have a moment of privacy? My sisters and I have some family matters to discuss.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Madame Rousseau gathered her pins and measuring tape. “I shall return in a quarter hour to complete the final adjustments.”
Once the seamstress had retreated to the front of the shop, Juliana moved closer to Emily, her expression softening with sisterly concern.
“You look beautiful, Em. But you also look terrified.”
Emily’s careful composure cracked slightly, her hands twisting in the silk fabric. “What if the ton sees through the pretense? What if someone asks the wrong questions?”
“Then you’ll handle it with the same grace and intelligence you’ve always possessed,” Juliana said firmly. “Emily, you have nothing to prove to anyone. You are not on trial.”
“Am I not?” Emily met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. “Every conversation will be a test. Every smile will be scrutinized. And if Lord Peirce is there…”
“If Lord Peirce is there,” Juliana interrupted, “you will remain perfectly cool and composed. You will treat him with politeindifference, as befits a former acquaintance. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“She’s right,” Ava added, moving to stand beside Juliana. “He has no power over you anymore, Emily. Whatever happened before, you’re free of him now.”
Free.The word should have brought comfort, but instead, it felt hollow. Emily was free from one unwanted fate, only to face another round of suitors and expectations.
“You’re not alone in this,” Juliana continued, placing a gentle hand on Emily’s shoulder. “We’ll all be there. Vincent has already made it clear that any gentleman wishing an introduction must meet his approval first.”
“Poor men,” Georgina said with a grin. “Vincent’s approval is harder to earn than a papal blessing.”
Despite her anxiety, Emily found herself smiling at her youngest sister’s irreverence. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”
“It certainly is,” Juliana agreed. “Now, shall we finish with this fitting? The sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can return home for tea and proper strategy discussions.”
As Madame Rousseau returned to complete the final adjustments, Emily tried to focus on her sisters’ supportive presence rather than the dread pooling in her stomach.
She would attend the Weatherby ball, smile graciously, and play her part in society’s elaborate charade.
But as she watched her reflection being transformed into the perfect picture of marriageable respectability, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was preparing for battle rather than a ball.
Chapter Twelve
“The Dowager Countess of Ridgewell and Lady Emily Walford.”
The butler’s voice rang out over the glittering assembly as Emily stepped into the Weatherby ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers cast dancing light across hundreds of guests, their jewels and silks creating a kaleidoscope of color against the cream and gold walls. The scent of hothouse flowers mingled with expensive perfumes, while the soft murmur of conversation provided a backdrop to the string quartet’s melodic strains.
Emily lifted her chin and walked forward, the emerald silk of her gown rustling with each measured step. She could feel eyes turning toward her, conversations pausing mid-sentence. The weight of their collective gaze pressed against her like a physical force.
“Breathe,” Ava murmured beside her, her voice barely audible above the music. “You look magnificent.”
