Page 56 of The Duke Meets His Match

Chapter 12

Susan stood in front ofher dressing room mirror one last time to inspect her appearance before going downstairs to await George’s arrival. Aunt Margaret was already there, ready to greet him so Susan would have all the time she needed.

She hardly believed what she saw reflected in the mirror. She saw a woman in the prime of life—not a girl and not a dusty spinster either. The rose silk gownflattered her figure, and her hair, which Miss Lily had agreed to style today,looked more elegant than Susan could have imagined after years of dealing with the unruly mop.

She tugged on her gloves and took up her shawl and reticule. As a last-minute thought, she went to her armoire and grabbed one of her new, pretty parasols. The skies weren’t overcast, so an actual umbrella wouldn’t be needed, but the parasol felt like a shield, and it was a comforting thought.

Then she stood in front of the mirroronelast time.

There was nothing for it—it was time to take up the gauntlet. When she reached the head of the stairs that descended to the entry hall, George and Aunt Margaret were both standing below, waiting for her.

“There she is, my duchess,” George said, then he took the stairs two at a time until he reached her. “You are a vision to behold,” he whispered to her, his words making her heart flutter faster than it already had been. “Come,” he then said louder. “Allow me to assist you.” He offered Susan his arm, and they descended the stairs together.

“How absolutely stunning you look, my dear!” Aunt Margaret exclaimed, clasping her hands at her bosom. “What Aylesham says is the truth—you look every inch the duchess. Did I not say it would be so?”

“Thank you, Aunt Margaret,” Susan said.

“Do you feel ready for this afternoon?” George asked her.

“We went over everything I could think of yesterday after you left,” Aunt Margaret said. “She’s a clever girl, this one, as you well know. I suspect she canact the part of a duchess nearly as well as the Duchess of Atherton herself—and I half suspect the Duchess of Atherton would agree with me. You met her, Susan, remember? Of course you do, along with the other ladies at that tea we attended.”

“I do remember,” Susan said. “I remember them all giving me pitying looks.”

“I saw nothing at all of what you are saying,” Aunt Margaret said in a softly chiding tone. “Andifwhat you say is true—if—they would certainly see you in a different light now,” she added. “The gown does not make the duchess, of course, but itdoesinform people and gives one confidence in oneself. You remember my saying those words, don’t you? You can be confident today, my dear. You are every bit their equal.”

“Oh, Aunt Margaret,” Susan said, reaching out to take the dear lady’s handsin her own and placing a kiss on her cheek. “I believe you truly are a fairygodmother.”

“There is one last bit of business to attend to before we leave,” George said. “Continuing along the theme of looking the part of a duchess, I have broughtyou this.” He picked up a small case from a side table nearby. “I hope this providesthe finishing touch.”

He opened the case, and Susan caught her breath. Lying on a bed of black velvet was a stunning ruby necklace, similar in style to her betrothal ring.

“I will not allow the future Duchess of Aylesham to be the only unembellishedlady present, although I don’t believe for one moment that you need this in orderto shine. It is merely pride on my part.” He smiled at her. “May I?”

“Yes, thank you,” Susan replied softly, still in wonder at his surprising gift. She turned her back to him, and he carefully draped the necklace around her throat and fastened the clasp.

She turned back to look at him, her fingers reaching up to touch the rubies, hardly believing they were real. But he wasn’t looking at the necklace. He was looking at her.

“Perfect,” he said.

“Oh,” she replied.

He smiled at her. “Shall we be on our way?” he asked her, gesturing toward the door.

“Yes,” she said.

She put on her small, stylish bonnet, and then he assisted her with her shawl and offered her his arm; she laid her hand on it, chiding herself that all she’d managed to say to him after such a gift and compliment was, “Oh.” Theman was turning her into a half-wit.

He assisted her into his carriage and then climbed inside after her, choosing to sit next to her rather than across.

It was a rather cozy fit.

They rode in silence for a while, and Susan felt every bump of the carriage over the cobblestones. Each one seemed to toss her against him, reminding her of his touches and kisses. Thelastthing she needed at this moment was to be reminded ofthat, however, when her brains were already failing her. She needed to concentrate; the task ahead of them required she have all her wits intact. She put a hand to her forehead.

“Are you unwell?” he asked her.

“No,” she replied. “But I am feeling the extremity of what lies ahead, and I would be lying if I didn’t say it weighs on me.”

“Lady Walmsley assured me that you are well rehearsed,” he said.

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