Page 39 of His Duchess' Mischief

If the whole household thinks I am quite mad, then all the better.

Alicia went to her bedchamber to look through her older dresses and decide what to do with them.

Bridget had suggested altering them, and she had no intention of destroying the beautiful gowns she had been gifted upon her arrival.

There was an older, pale pink dress in her trunk that she had not worn in some time. It had a tiny hole in one of the sleeves, and she had intended to have it mended some weeks ago.

Looking at it now, it seemed very drab compared to her finer gowns.

She went back into the boudoir and draped the dress over a chair. Looking at it made her hands twitch, wondering what the Duke would think when he saw her in it.

Doubts rose at the back of her mind. Was this wise? Did she really wish to antagonize him in such a way?

But even as the doubts surfaced, defiance rose with them.

I cannot stay married to a dangerous man whom I did not choose. No matter how good that kiss might have been.

It was only a few minutes later when Rose joined her, carrying four bolts of beautiful brocade in deep burgundy, charcoal grey, and green.

Alicia balked at the idea of cutting them up into what she had intended, but at the bottom of the pile, she found a simple gray muslin that would be just the thing.

“Your Grace, that fabric is often used for the servants’ uniforms. I had not intended to bring it!” Rose protested, about to pull it from Alicia’s hands.

Alicia shook her head. “This will do. Thank you, Rose. I can see to things from here.”

Her maid stared at her for a few seconds, looking confused, before nodding once and leaving the room.

Alicia went to the dresser, where the scissors had been placed, and got to work.

There was no question of wearing the dress she was going to sew in public, but she could most certainly wear it in the house and embarrass her husband in the process.

About an hour later, Alicia was beginning to rethink her grand plan.

The pink muslin gown lay massacred on the floor, sewn in uneven sections with panels of gray mixed through it.

The sleeves were still intact, but the skirt was two-tone, and the cheap gray fabric was already beginning to fray around the edges.

Bridget had vastly overestimated Alicia’s talents in this regard. It had been years since she had picked up a needle and thread. She had pricked herself three times, getting blood over some of the fabric at the back, and she was not sure whether the dress would even fit her.

Glancing at the door and dreading leaving the room, she picked up the dress, half expecting the fabric to fall to her feet and the entire gown to disintegrate.

Surprisingly, it remained attached, and she held it against herself in front of the mirror.

Well, there is nothing left to do but try it on.

Once she had pulled it over her head, she stared at herself in the mirror and tried not to laugh out loud.

I look ridiculous.

The bodice was striped in two different colors, with a long gray piece draping over the front and hanging too low on the floor. The pink bottom of the gown now had a large slit in it that exposed her petticoats to the world, giving the whole ensemble the look of a stage costume more than anything else.

I cannot go outside in this.

She swallowed, smoothing a hand over the dress and reminding herself what this was all for.

Her plan would work. There was no chance the Duke would not be appalled by her appearance.

She imagined walking into his study wearing the dress, his dark eyes rising to look at her.

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