Page 87 of Duchess Material

“They are putting together this love triangle. Apparently, it was Winston who broke us up. I turned George gay by fucking Winston. It all makes so much sense.”

Natalie snickered.

“Fuck straight men and their stupid stories. Nat, I put all my eggs in one basket. I did everything I could for George. I loved him freely and then he left me. That’s on George. We’re good. He’s happy. I have found this person I love so much, and I’d pleasantly spend the rest of my life with him. Now, though, I’m a cheating whore and Winston is the other man.”

Natalie let out a laugh. “Patrick is the other man.”

“It doesn’t matter who fucked who. It’s no one’s business—”

“Correct. But to them, it does matter. Because it’s the story they can sell to the world. No one knows that you’re a saint or Winston is a puppy dog who would never dream of sleeping with someone else’s girlfriend. They don’t need to. The narrative they have crafted is the only one the care to affirm. If you give them nothing, it will die. It’s like the Olav thing. It died. Neither of us acknowledged it. Ed kept his head down.”

“Knowing Winston, he’d just invite them for tea rather than risk being rude.”

“Winston knows how to behave. And you do, too, darling. Get over it. This, too, shall pass.”

Natalie was so cool about it. Lucy couldn’t be like that. This wasn’t her world. She wasn’t sure this was for her. Lucy followed Natalie because that was the right thing to do. However, she groaned and grumbled as the press chased them from shop to shop. Natalie bought Lucy two pairs of shoes to try to soften the blow of being hounded. She appreciated Natalie’s attempt at a cheer up, but she still felt like her life was ending. The press weren’t new. She dealt with them daily. Dealing with them as a subject was very different than dealing with them as their subject.

Natalie drug Lucy into a bespoke lingerie shop. “I don’t like how this looks.”

“For me? This is nothing new. My mother loves this place, for God’s sake!”

“No, for me. If I go in here, they’re going to paint me as a sex fiend.”

“They’re going to do that no matter what, Lucy. C’mon, Chandler. You know what it’s like. Nothing you actually do will correct their revisionist history.”

“I’m not really a lingerie person.”

“You should be. Buy something nice and distract yourself. You’re going home tomorrow. Buy something nice for Winston if nothing else.”

“He really doesn’t care.”

“He says he doesn’t. They all appreciate the thought.”

Lucy groaned as a shopgirl approached and asked if she could help.

Natalie picked up in perfect French. “Hello, my friend is looking for something fun to surprise her boyfriend with.”

“Nothing too wild,” Lucy insisted, looking around at the lace and straps galore.

“Maybe a chemise or a teddy,” Natalie clarified.

“What do you usually wear?” the girl asked in English.

“A nightgown or an old t-shirt?” Lucy winced. “I’m not much for fancy things.”

“Well, you deserve something nice,” the girl said. “Silk. How do you feel about silk?”

“I love silk,” Lucy admitted.

The girl pulled them into an area full of silk chemises in a seemingly endless array of colours. Lucy looked around as Natalie jumped in, claiming one for herself already.

“See, they’re not too sexy. I can assure you,” Natalie insisted. “They just make you feel pretty. That’s all. A nice change of pace.”

“You really think so?”

“My mother has dozens of these and wears the longer ones to bed nightly. If she can pull it off, so can you.”

The shop girl looked her up and down. “They feel good against the skin as well. I promise. You have a nice shape. You should show it off—not hide it.”

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