Page 31 of His Haunted Duchess
Caroline froze. She opened her mouth then closed it again.
“How delightfully clever!” Esther rubbed the fabric between her fingers. “Really, Frederic, don’t you think so?”
Frederic frowned.
“Perhaps I am not as familiar with feminine fashion as I ought to be—but ought not brides to have hands like anyone else?”
Lady Caroline bent to examine the hem, obscuring her face, and said nothing. Esther shot him a pointed glance.
“Manteaus are and have been fashionable for ages, Frederic. You astonish me.”
“There’s an excellent friseur, Your Grace, who could be available the morning of the wedding to—” She glanced quickly at Caroline. “—to arrange Lady Caroline’s hair in a flattering way.”
Esther nodded.
“Something long and flowing,” she suggested, “that may—drape—across her face a little—something to add to the mystique.”
Frederic snorted. Mystique, indeed. Lady Caroline colored deeply. Her eyes clouded, and she clasped her hands in front of her. He remembered that posture—if not in the exact pose, then definitely the emotion of it. He, too, had muddled through the sea of advice he had received and even more frequently regretted. He cleared his throat.
“That style hardly seems necessary—or the fashion, unless my eyes have deceived me. There certainly isn’t anything that Lady Caroline would need to hide.”
Mrs. Gray’s eyes dropped where they must have collided in the same path with Lady Caroline’s. She curtsied politely.
“I meant no offense, Your Grace.”
No duchess of his would be required to feel like her scars or weaknesses needed to be hidden. Esther stepped forward.
“Of course, you didn’t mean any offense, Mrs. Gray. What a notion! You merely followed instructions and quite aptly, I might add.”
“It’s terribly convenient,” his mother said, lowering her tone to a rough whisper, “that Mrs. Gray has found a way to—obscure any disadvantage that might appear on Lady Caroline.”
“What disadvantage could possibly appear on her?” Frederic glared at his mother. “She’d shine like the moon whether she was wearing lamé or plain cotton muslin.”
His mother clenched her jaw, but he ignored her. He turned his eyes to Lady Caroline.
“What does the lady say? I’d dearly like to hear her opinion since we’ve done her the disservice of talking to everyone but the lady who will actually wear the dress.”
“I—I appreciate very much—” Lady Caroline looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes travelled up the silver dress and to her own face then dropped again. “Perhaps it would be prudent, just at first, to—explore—a new style. Thank—thank you for your recommendations, Your Grace.”
His mother looked like she had swallowed a canary. Lady Caroline turned to a mirror.
“I am accustomed to my appearance,” she continued, more confidently. “Perhaps others are not, as yet, and it could behelpful to introduce them more gradually–-to stifle unnecessary gossip.
His mother nodded approvingly. Frederic shifted in his chair.
“You should get used to the gossip. People can—and will—say all manner of nonsense about you. Don’t heed them.”
“I don’t mind for myself.” She pulled one of the new gloves onto her hand. “But I would dread further gossip on my husband’s account. It may affect you more than you have yet predicted.”
“Very wise, dear—it behooves you to be so considerate of your future husband and his station.” She turned to Mrs. Gray. “We’ll send Carlyle next week to pick up the package. Would you mind, Frederic, reminding him to come?”
Frederic nodded coldly.
“If the bride has no objections to the arrangements,” he said, taking no trouble to push the stiffness from his voice, “then I see no reason why the groom should. I will remind Carlyle next week.”
He stood up, looking for his hat and keeping his eyes away from the ladies. It was Lady Caroline’s decision, after all, and the reasons weren’t—as much as he disliked them—necessarily bad.
His mother and Lady Caroline finished their preparations with Mrs. Gray, and he followed them out of the shop. They walkedtogether, just ahead of him, their heads together. Lady Caroline glanced back at him. He frowned, tipped his hat to her, and continued walking.
