Page 37 of A Most Improper Duchess
But before she could place her boot to the wooden floor, Lorelei tapped Vivianne’s elbow. ‘We are finished here.’
Inside the carriage, Vivianne flexed her fingers against her gloves. She loosened the buttons and tugged at the fingertips. As Lorelei stepped into the cabin, Vivianne leaned back and watched the golden light inside the shop and followed the silhouettes of shoppers going about their day. The door snipped shut. The carriage bobbed as the footman climbed onto the box and whistled before they set off again through the streets.
‘What were you thinking?’
Vivianne pulled her attention from the streetscape to look at her future mother-in-law. ‘I was thinking about how busy this city is, but I see no one stopping to draw or paint. Do the artists work outside in London? Or is that only in Paris?’
Lorelei’s steel gaze pierced Vivianne. ‘I was referring to the shop. With the attendant. You bargained with him.’
‘The price was too much—’
‘Duchesses do not bargain.’
‘But I know the cost of these things, and what they pay the workers, and—’
‘If you have to ask, you cannot afford. And if you cannot afford, you cannot be trusted to settle your accounts, and if you cannot settle your accounts your future husband is open to bribes and persuasion and will likely attract attention from undesirable associates and is in no position to run the financial affairs of this country.’
‘But I saved—’
‘You saved nothing. The gossip train will be humming. Every assistant will now speculate if the future duchess will throw lavish or frugal parties. Will it be worth hunting out the best piece of game or fruits for her table because she will only bargain and argue? Will she want talented musicians, or just players who can hold a tune? Will other dukes and duchesses bother to attend? Or will she only invite the ragtag neighbours of that street?’
Vivianne placed her gloves in her lap and rubbed her rough hands together. ‘Arley is very fond of his neighbours.’
‘He is fond of many things that aren’t good for him.’
‘Like me?’
Eyes locked, Vivianne held Lorelei’s stare, daring her to say what she herself felt most keenly in her heart. That she didn’t belong, that she would never learn, that she wasn’t good enough and would only ever be a duchess in name.
‘It’s been weeks, Vivianne. Don’t assume to tell me you know this world better than I do.’
Vivianne dropped her gaze to the carriage floor. She crossed her arms across her chest, and while she knew her stomach did not growl, and she wore beautiful clothes, new boots, and travelled through the city in a carriage that smelt like cloves and lemon, her body and breath yearned for the dirt of the streets, the painters, the sunshine, Nicole, and the feel of the uneven stone through her heels.
When Lorelei next spoke, her tone softened a little. ‘The fire that used to light your way? It will now blister your hands if you take your eyes from it. This is not The Marriage of Figaro, where it is fun to criticise the nobles and laugh at their stupidity. This is our life. From them but not one of them. You must never forget.’
Chapter Seventeen
Arleycouldn’trecallaSpencer and Co meeting ever being so ordered.
Maybe not ordered. There was no officiousness. No strict following of the agenda.
Only quiet.
Even the blasted cat, perched on the sill, watched him through narrow eyes, making not even a tail flick toward the milk jug on the table.
Arley sat in his usual seat, to the left of Iris, opposite Hamish. He took a breath. Cleared his throat. Searched for his duke voice.
But when he opened his mouth, what came out was slightly strangled, and off-key, like the nervous squawk of his youth. ‘And on the printed itinerary before you, you can find the sites that would provide the type of tour that a young person might find enlightening. Their mini-grand tour. They certainly enlightened me.’
Hamish snuffled into his tea. Iris shot her husband a disapproving look.
Lawrence shook the paper, as if the motion might change the words. ‘Watch the painters outside the cafés? No parent is going to agree to that.’ He squinted at the page. ‘Does that say a visit to a subterranean cemetery?’
‘I thought that one sounded intriguing,’ Phineas drawled.
‘What about watching the rain fall in the gardens?’ Lawrence asked.
‘Oh no.’ Phineas shook his head. ‘That is a terrible suggestion.’
