Page 17 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
She rather hoped that the duke was so infuriated by her dismissal of him, that he had already written a letter to her father demanding the engagement be broken.
Perhaps he'll let me know over breakfast, Ava thought happily, as she hopped out of bed and skipped forth into the dressing room to change for the day.
"Shall I call for Mary, my Lady?" Sally called after her, sounding a little distressed.
"Er, yes please," Ava popped her head out the dressing room door, "I just thought I'd get a head start."
"Yes, my Lady," Sally replied with a bob of a curtsy and left the room in search of the lady's maid.
"Lud, child," Mary said a few minutes later, as she bustled into the room to find Ava already washed and half dressed, "You shall give the game away acting like this. Tell me, what did you wash in?"
"The water in the basin," Ava shrugged, as she turned to allow Mary lace up her stays.
"Lady Emily never washes in anything bar warm water," Mary clucked in disapproval, "Sally will wonder why she wasn't called to fetch it."
"Tell her that I have been advised by a physician that a cold water bath is invigorating for one's health," Ava said with a smile, "Or that it's the latest fashion. Lud, all that the girls spoke of last night was whatLa Belle Assembléehad dictated as being the latest thing. If theBelletold them to jump off a cliff, you'd find a hundred ladies rushing to Dover."
"And what is the latest thing, for I know it's not cliff jumping." Mary queried as she slipped a soft, woollen day dress over Ava's head.
"Flounces," Ava replied miserably, "I never knew there were so many variations, nor did I care to know. It's like the ladies don't even notice that there's articles on the pages between the fashion plates."
"A well-bred lady does not read," Mary said sternly, "And if she does, she most certainly does not discuss political articles she has read at a ball. Best stick to the fashion plates and where to buy the best trimming for your bonnet."
Ava stifled a sigh; how dull it was to find that the ladies of thebon ton, with every magazine and book at their disposal, seemed, for the most part, not to bother reading them.
"Now, aren't you a picture?" Mary said with satisfaction as she tucked the last strand of Ava's hair into a charming, loose bun. The overall effect of her hair and the soft, white day dress, was almost ethereal, Ava thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked sweet, soft and innocent—a far cry from how she had looked three days before.
"Now, downstairs and take breakfast with Lord Fairfax," Mary continued, "Then repair to the drawing room to wait for your callers."
"My callers?" Ava replied dumbly—who on earth would call upon her?
"Lady Emily is quite the popular young lady," Mary explained gently, "Even more so, now that everyone knows she is soon to be a duchess. Her friends, acquaintances, and anyone she talked to last night might present themselves today for tea."
Gracious, Ava thought with alarm; the last few days had presented enough difficulties for her as she had struggled to remember dozens of names, now she was to learn even more?
"I shall be at hand to help you, if you slip up," Mary said, catching the frightened look in her eye, "Don't fear, you're doing a smashing job. Except..."
"Except?" Ava asked nervously.
"If you spill anything at dinner again, don't rush to get a rag to clean it," Mary said with a chuckle, "The poor footmen will think you're trying to do them out of a job."
With that sage advice, Ava departed for the dining room, already parching for what had become her favourite part of the day—a steaming cup of chocolate.
"I heard that Miss Loretta Bingham was flirting outrageously with Lord Moore. Imagine the daughter of a nabob thinking she had any chance of snaring an earl. She's rather the upstart, don't you agree, Lady Emily?"
"Beg pardon?" Ava stuttered, as she realised that Priscilla Huntington had directed a question at her. Over the course of the past half hour, as Miss Huntington had dissected every word uttered by every person at Lady Jersey's ball, Ava had found her eyes glazing over. Was this girl really Emily's friend? Ava could not understand how her twin could tolerate such a vain, vapid dullard as Miss Huntington.
"I said," Priscilla said, her pointed face narrowing further into a frown, "That Miss Bingham is rather the ambitious social climber."
"Perhaps she has ambitions to a title?" Ava replied sweetly, "For that I do not blame her; why spend a life having people look down their noses at you, when, with marriage to one fat earl, she can look down her nose at others from the lofty position of Countess?"
From across the room, Ava saw Mary bless herself in horror. Perhaps she had gone too far? Still, if she was to purge her sister's life of unwanted persons, a good place to start was Miss Priscilla Huntington.
"Lord Moore is not fat," Miss Huntington replied, her cheeks flushed with indignation.
Ah, Ava thought with realisation; Priscilla was not bothered by Miss Bingham's social aspirations, but rather that in her attempts to climb the social ladder, she had attempted to climb up Priscilla's earl.
