Page 29 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“I know you did not choose these circumstances, but at least Gillingham is not a stranger,” Frances added, her attempt at consolation highlighting the scant silver lining in a situation fraught with complexity.

The pace at which events were unfolding left Agnes breathless, the reality of her impending nuptials bearing down on her with the weight of an anvil. She pressed a hand against her belly and took several deep breaths.

Her friends still believed her courtship with Theodore had been real. The guilt of this deception swelled within her, an unwelcome addition to the tempest of her emotions.

“Oh, so the whispers of nuptial arrangements do indeed hold truth,” Lady Kirkland’s voice, unfortunately familiar and very unwelcome, pierced the veil of Agnes’s thoughts.

Lifting her gaze, Agnes met the disconcerting sight of Lady Kirkland making her presence known within the confines of the shop.

“Why, Petunia? Have you wagered against the event and now fear the prospect of loss?” Caroline, ever the protective lioness, interjected swiftly, her tone laced with a sharp wit that left no room for misunderstanding.

“Who frets over the trifling matter of coin?” Lady Kirkland retorted, her disdain thinly veiled. The camaraderie once shared between her mother and Lady Kirkland had frayed, unraveled by the latter’s penchant for wagging tongues and weaving tales.

“Why, anything in the service of fueling the mills of rumor, correct, Petunia?” Caroline parried, her words a deft strike that momentarily unsettled their adversary.

Caught off guard, Lady Kirkland’s composure flickered, revealing a momentary crack in her façade as she scrambled for a retort.

“Such regrettable conditions paving the path to matrimony,” Lady Kirkland remarked with a derisive sneer, her gaze, laden with contempt, settling on Agnes. “It does cast a shadow upon our capacity as mothers and guardians in instilling a sense of discipline and propriety in our charges, wouldn’t you concur, Your Grace?” she pivoted, addressing Caroline with a challenge veiled as inquiry.

“Indeed, it is precisely such failings that cultivate a relentless thirst for gossip,” Caroline countered, her riposte sharp and unyielding.

A stifled snigger from the modiste punctuated the exchange, her amusement at the Duchess’s verbal spar barely contained. Glancing at Frances and Emma, Agnes discerned a shared amusement mirrored in their expressions, a silent solidarity against Lady Kirkland’s barbs.

With a scowl, Lady Kirkland directed a final glare at the amused modiste before declaring with haughty disdain, “I perceive naught in this establishment worthy of my expenditure.” With a flounce that spoke volumes of her displeasure, she made for the exit.

Yet, at the threshold, she paused, casting over her shoulder a parting shot meant to wound, “I implore you, at the very least, ensure the sustenance provided at your wedding is not offensive.” And with that, she departed, leaving a trail of indignation in her wake.

“I knew there was something about that caterpillar still bothering that woman,” Caroline mused aloud.

“Oh, I’ve never seen anyone so elegantly rebuffed, Your Grace,” Madame Fontaine chuckled, her laughter ringing clear and genuine within the confines of her boutique. The dressmaker’s admiration for Caroline’s handling of the situation was evident, her respect for the Duchess’s wit and grace unabated by the years.

Turning toward Agnes, Caroline’s expression softened, her eyes conveying a silent apology for the unpleasantness that hadunfolded. It was a mother’s instinct to shield her child from the world’s harsher realities, even when that child was fully grown.

And Agnes, recognizing the love and concern behind the gesture, mustered a smile, a silent reassurance that she remained unscathed by Lady Kirkland’s barbed words. It was a small act of defiance, a declaration that she would not allow the opinions of others to dictate her state of mind.

The remainder of their shopping expedition passed without further incident, a welcome respite from the earlier drama. Agnes took solace in the laughter and light-hearted banter of her friends, a balm to the wounds inflicted by society’s scrutiny. She made a concerted effort to remain engaged, to share in the joy of the moment rather than retreat into the shadows of her own troubled thoughts.

Late afternoon saw them parting ways with her friends, returning home with boxes yet aware they had scarcely made a dent in the list of necessities for the upcoming nuptials. “Oh, and to consider we’ve acquired but a fraction of what’s required,” Caroline lamented as they entrusted their outerwear to the butler’s care.

At that moment, an unexpected knock at the door heralded another visitor. The butler, having just passed the ladies’ coats to a footman, opened the door to reveal Theodore standing on the threshold. Caroline’s expression brightened at the sight of her future son-in-law, a stark contrast to Agnes’s mixed feelings of surprise and uncertainty as she escorted him to the drawing room.

She was on the verge of ringing for tea when Theodore proposed an alternative. “The weather is far too splendid to remain indoors,” he observed.

“As it happens, we’ve only just arrived back ourselves,” Agnes felt compelled to mention, aware of the awkwardness that seemed to envelop them like a dense fog.

“Does that mean you’d prefer not to venture out for a walk?” he inquired, his chuckle attempting to lighten the mood.

“I shall have my coat and hat retrieved,” she decided, the prospect of escaping the claustrophobic atmosphere of the drawing room suddenly appealing. The promise of fresh air and the open spaces of Hyde Park seemed a far more enticing prospect, potentially offering them the respite needed to navigate their current discomfort.

Indeed, the late afternoon breeze was refreshing, the verdant landscape of Hyde Park serving as a welcome distraction from the undercurrents of tension between them. Despite the occasional curious glance from passersby, Agnes found herself less concerned with the wagging tongues of society and more focused on the here and now. The past was immutable, yet the future remained hers to shape.

It was amidst this reflective silence that Theodore sought to broach the subject of their impending union. “I thought it prudent to allow you some time to adjust to the idea,” he started, breaking the ice that had formed around them.

“There’s scarcely anything to adjust to,” Agnes responded with a slight snort, her attempt at humor masking the depth of her resignation. “We must simply take things as they come,” she added with a shrug, a pragmatic acceptance of their situation.

“I hadn’t pegged you for someone as pragmatic as you are obstinate, Agnes,” he commented, his laughter hinting at a newfound appreciation for her resilience.

“I am a woman of myriad talents,” she retorted playfully.

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