Page 40 of Never Dare a Duke
Abigail yanked on her friend’s elbow until they were the last to go up the narrow stairs. “What did you say?”
“Your entire background, of course—the one we concocted,” she added in a whisper.
Abigail felt despair wash over her. “Oh, Gwen, I hate that you are forced to lie!”
“I am not forced! I am glad to be helping you. Your family needs it. And besides, your family is not the only one benefiting from it.”
“What do you mean?” Abigail asked with skepticism.
“The duke is a changed man. Everyone is saying so.”
Shocked, she could think of nothing to say.
“He is usually so distant at these events, hardly even attends them,” Gwen continued. “Yet with you here, he is…interested. His sister is thrilled at his attention to the party.”
“She said as much to me,” Abigail admitted.
“And he is taking an interest in a woman. His mother is surely happy that her ploy worked.”
“But I am not the right woman for him to be interested in,” Abigail hissed, as at last they started up the steep staircase.
Unfinished wood lined the walls, only illuminated by the shaking beam of an oil lamp held from above.
“I don’t think who you are matters,” Gwen said.
“It will to the duke.”
And then they were at the top of the stairs and could no longer speak in private. Abigail had expected the attics to be dark and dusty, with a draping cobweb or two. This sectionwasdark, for there were few windows, and little light leaked in between the curtains. But it was as meticulously clean as the rest of the house. Trunks lined the walls, along with stacked crates. In one corner an old standing mirror reflected strange shadows. Several pieces of unused furniture clustered in another corner. Surely the attics went on quite a distance, but the lamp did not have sufficient light.
“This is it!” Lady Elizabeth said with obvious excitement. “All the clothing trunks are stored in this area. Several maids will be bringing more lamps so that we can all see. You are welcome to use any garments you find, and the maids will be ready with needle and thread to make things fit. It will be so enjoyable to see the men’s expressions when we appear as women of another time.”
Even Lady Swarthbeck and Lady Greenwich seemed reluctantly interested in the costume idea for the dance, for they were the first to open a trunk and peer inside.
“The duchess does not object to this intrusion?” Abigail called.
Lady Elizabeth laughed. “Believe me, she is just as swept away as we are. She has a gown she brought from Spain that she plans to wear, so that is why she’s chosen to rest before luncheon instead of joining us.”
That seemed to relieve the other women, and, as the maids arrived with lamps, everyone spread out. Abigail and Gwen found their own trunk, and as they opened it, Abigail smelled a faint air of disuse. She noticed that the garments were so old as to have been worn long before the duke’s birth. So she temporarily let go of her investigation—since shedidneed a costume for that night—and immersed herself in the fun.
She and Gwen held up gowns before themselves, displaying for each other’s approval. They were from the middle of the eighteenth century, needing hoops on both sides. The low square necklines and bold colors would not do on just anyone. One by one, Abigail held gowns up before her, and she tried for something more demure, self-conscious as she was about her plump figure. Gwen would frown and shake her head over and over again, until at last Abigail had to move on to the next trunk. With a frustrated groan, she held up another gown—and Gwen clasped her hands together with a cry of delight.
“That is it, Abby!”
More than one head turned their way, and Abigail tried not to blush as they critically examined the deep green gown.
“Green?” Abigail said skeptically.
“It will be perfect on you! And what about this one for me?”
She held up a gown that had once been white but had faded into pale ivory over time—or so Abigail estimated by lamplight.
“Gwen, you know every dress will look beautiful on you.”
Gwen touched her arm. “You are too sweet. But I like this one, although it looks like it might have to be taken in a bit.”
“And mine will have to be let out,” Abigail said with a sigh, examining the bodice.
“Oh, what a problem to have!” She grinned.
