Page 44 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
August had ordered the Worth dress on a whim when they had placed the order for all of their gowns. She had fallen in love with the fashion plate and the accompanying sample of scarlet velvet as soon as she had seen it. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on her mood, which changed from one minute to the next, the gown that hadbeen delivered to their townhome last week had been far more scandalously cut than she had realized. To make it more shocking, the overskirt was tied back at her bottom to drape in graceful waves to the ground. From the back it was beautiful and elegant. From the front, the tie-back effect only further served to outline the curve of her hips and hint at the shocking fact that she was in possession of a pair of thighs.
Countless scathing editorials had been written on the indecent new style when it had first made an appearance last year. August had hardly paid them any attention. It had seemed ridiculous that anyone would care overly much about the draping of a dress as long as the important parts were covered. Wearing this particular gown had changed her opinion on that. All eyes in the room had turned to her as soon as she and her family had walked into the ball. This had been expected because everyone wondered about her involvement with Rothschild and if a betrothal announcement would be forthcoming. The eyes had stayed on her and wandered over her lower extremities, however, because of this gown. The result was that she felt naked.
Hundreds of voices carrying on conversations around them muffled her sigh of protest as her toes screamed in pain with each step. Her current partner delivered her back to her scowling mother after their dance, bowing dutifully. When he offered to bring her punch, her mother refused on her behalf and only managed to wait until the man had turned away before saying, “Rothschild has yet to make an appearance.” Her voice was low, but the tone was such that August wasn’t entirely certain it wouldn’t travel to those around them. The insinuation that his absence was August’s fault was still heard loud and clear by her daughter.
August tried not to smile. Since her argument with Rothschild about the betrothal two days ago, she had made certain that every one of her waking moments was spent outside her home. Even the sanctuary of Papa’s study wouldn’t save her from him if he deigned to call. Her absence from home also gave her more time to do all the things a socially acceptable wife would not do.
“Have you heard what they’re saying about you?” Mother discreetly indicated the room at large.
August could not help but smile a little at that. She had heard snatches of conversation here and there. All true. “What do you mean?” She feigned a mildly curious tone.
Her mother sighed. “You were seen attending a lecture by that woman reformer.”
“Barbara Bodichon.” It had been an interesting talk about the value of education for women.
Mother gave a firm shake of her head as if the name hardly mattered. “And what is this about Lord Worth? You were seen on his arm in Hyde Park, without your chaperone no less.”
“He won a race. I merely congratulated him.” And if Rothschild thought he had competition, more the better. She hoped the knowledge would rid him of his tiresome, ever-present smirk.
“You vex me, child. You know how this will appear to Rothschild. He could withdraw his proposal.” She kept her voice suitably low, but they had managed to garner some curious glances. “Your exploits were even written about in one of the gossip rags.”
August hadn’t known ink had been spilled over her, but she wasn’t surprised. “If he is so easily put off by a gossip column reporting my interest in social issues and my lack of chaperone, then I am not certain he is worth our concern.”
Mother frowned as much as she was able while still maintaining a pleasant expression for the benefit of those around them. The fine lines around her mouth deepened. “You might have at least been home during calling hours. He has come every day to continue the betrothal discussion.”
That was rather the point of not being home. To avoid giving her mother apoplexy there in the middle of the ball, she instead said rather gently, “That is a conversation I do not intend to have. I have made my feelings on the matter very clear.”
The frustration coming off her mother was nearly palpable. “How dare you do this to us?” She had turned so thatshe spoke nearer August’s ear to keep her voice down. “We have found you a perfectly suitable husband. He is handsome, from a good family, and he has the connections this family needs. What more do you want?”
“I was unaware that you had been so desperate to find me a husband.” The bitter words were out before she could stop them. “For one, I would like a little consideration that I might want to have a say in choosing the man I am to spend the rest of my life with.” Fixing a smile on her face, she said, “But perhaps now is not the time to discuss this.”
Her mother huffed, and the pleasant expression she had managed to hold all this time fell. August searched the room for an escape. If she argued with her mother here, it would be the talk of the evening. As soon as she opened her mouth to excuse herself, an acquaintance she recognized but could not name came up to them. “Mrs. Crenshaw, how lovely to run into you here.”
August stayed long enough to exchange pleasantries before taking herself away from the ballroom. She already had her next minor rebellion in mind. While no one had explicitly said to her that card playing at a ball was not done by a woman, she had noticed that very few women traversed the domain that seemed reserved for men. The few who did were older and had been married for decades or were widowed. The women and younger people had their own lounges at these places where various other games and amusements could be carried out. August, however, intended to conquer this sphere that had been held for the men.
Many already whispered about her “mannish tendencies”; well, let them whisper even louder so that Rothschild could hear. He would hardly want a mannish duchess. As she made her way to the suite of rooms one floor down, the noise from the crowded ballroom gradually gave way to the guffaws and jeering of distinctly male voices. A footman stood sentry at the doorway, giving her a faintly horrified glance as she stepped past him and into the salon.
The room itself was rather tastefully decorated in browns and deep reds with heavy brocade fabrics mixedwith top-grain leather. It was a very masculine space with lamps and card tables set out about the room. Several tables were occupied with men playing whist. Many of them gave her interested glances, but none of them bothered to question her presence. The wide double doors that separated this room from the next were thrown open to reveal that room to be more crowded and livelier. Men cheered, and dice clinked together, while several people called out bets.
When she reached the doorway, she could barely see any of the tables for the crowd of men around them. Smoke hung heavy in the air, cloying at her lungs as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Had she not been trying to make a point to Rothschild, she would have turned around then and there. It was foolish to gamble on a game she knew nothing about, but she wasn’t here to win, simply to prove that she was not duchess material.
She steeled herself for rejection and took a step into the room. “Blast and damn, Crenshaw!” The angry but muffled words brought her up short. Her heart jolted in her chest as she stepped back out of the room, looking for the source of the voice. It must be coming from another room off the card salon. The door was cracked open, so she crept closer cautiously.
“Do not complain to me about how things are moving too slowly.” The voice belonged to Farthington; she was certain of it even though she couldn’t see him. His voice was a deep baritone that was difficult to confuse with someone else’s. “I have received your proposal. I can do no more until you do your part.”
She stifled a gasp of shock with her hand. They had to be discussing the Indian railway proposal. She had helped her father draft it herself. One of her afternoons out of the home had been to Farthington’s secretary to gather preliminary information on the Indian labor and materials market, which she had then stayed up late into the night to compile into a comprehensive report. From that she had drafted an initial proposal that detailed Crenshaw Iron’s strengths along with their readily available assets. The more in-depth planning would come once this initialproposal was reviewed and passed on to the next phase. Assuming it made it that far.
Her father spoke too low for her to hear, but she could see half of the back of his head as he sat across the table from Farthington. Several other men were present, fabric rustled, and one cleared his throat, but she could not see them through the crack between the door and the frame.
“Yes, yes, all of that has been made clear to me,” Farthington replied. “You must understand that I cannot present the proposal untilyou do your part.”
Again her father’s voice was low and calm, but she thought she made out the wordsthese things take time.
“Yes, well, time is our enemy. Rest assured that we are very clear on your position and your ability. The issue, which I thought I had made very clear to you, is that we cannot open this market up to simply anyone. If your firm were to secure a contract without suitable justification, I would be swimming in harassment as others tried to secure the same favor. No, we cannot have that.” He sliced his hand through the air for emphasis. “The proposal cannot go further until a betrothal is announced.”
She brought her hand up to cover her mouth, and a sick feeling twisted in her stomach. The expansion of Crenshaw Iron Works hinged on her marriage to the duke. A marriage she did not want and had no intention of committing herself to. She had naively hoped that by drawing out the courting phase they might secure the contract without an eventual marriage.
As if he had heard her naivete, Farthington laughed. “I trust your honor, but I am afraid we need to see more progress on that front before we can move forward.”
