Page 44 of A Duke Makes a Deal
A massive, walled garden, centered by a maze stood beneath her in a sort of courtyard that was outlined with fruit trees. Clara sighed at the beautiful sight beneath her and wished very much to go exploring in the garden, only to be brought back to reality by the housekeeper’s throat clearing.
Turning, Clara tried to appear apologetic. She gave the housekeeper a strained smile and followed her into the room.
“Do you like gardens, my lady?” Mrs. Bridges asked.
“Very much so,” Clara said, peering over her shoulder before entering her bed chambers.
The minute she walked into the room, her breath caught in her throat.
Red damask wallpaper covered the towering walls and gold framed mirrors seemed to be everywhere. Goodness, how vain had the former duchess been? Surely one person did not need such an excessive number of mirrors but, everything about this house seemed excessive to Clara. She really needed to remember that she was no longer a mere country girl. Still, it was difficultto remember that this amount of opulence was expected of great houses.
Even with that in mind, the lavishness of these apartments made her slightly uncomfortable. Turning about the room, Clara’s eyes landed on the bed. This was the most shocking to see. The canopy was draped in black silk and the intricate carvings on the pillars and headboard appeared to be scenes of satyrs and nymphs.
Clara’s hand came up to her mouth absentmindedly, her thumb and forefinger plucking at her bottom lip as she stared at one pillar in particular where a satyr’s arms were reaching out above him to grab the backside of a nymph.
Clara’s head tilted slightly as her eyes traveled up the post. Goodness, was this depicting—
“My lady?”
Clara jumped and whipped around.
“Yes?” she said quickly, as if she had just been caught reading some wicked book.
“I asked if you were also fond of the country?”
“Oh yes,” Clara said, trying to smile. “I am very fond of the country.”
“Do you and his grace plan to stay in Nottinghamshire?” she asked as Clara’s gaze fell around the room.
Plush velvet furnishings and heavy wood pieces adorned the room. She had never seen a room like this one and a singular word came to her mind when she thought to describe it.
Decadence.
“I hope so,” Clara said as her fingers trailed against the back of a gilded chair.
Though she didn’t say anything, the small pull of the old woman’s mouth into a quick smile made Clara feel as if she had just cracked into a safe. She knew now that it was inevitable that she would be compared to the former mistress of the house, butas Silas said, they were nothing alike. Hopefully she would be able to meet their expectations of what a duchess should be like.
Soon a small army of maids swarmed the room, making up a hot bath, laying out several choices of gowns that Clara had brought with her. When none seemed to please Mrs. Bridges, she sent for a few gowns belonging to Violet. Apparently, Mrs. Bridges had once been a lady’s maid to the Duchess of Lancaster, a dear friend of Silas’s mother. When the duchess passed away however, it was revealed that the Lancaster duchy was bankrupt and Mrs. Bridges was offered the housekeeper position at Greystone. Her taste for fashion was well known as she had a talent for matching her mistresses to dresses that would complement them.
“Oh no,” Clara tried to dissuade the maids as one left to collect several gowns from Violet. “I don’t want to bother Lady Violet. I’m sure she doesn’t wish for a stranger to wear her things.”
“It’s no trouble,” Mrs. Bridges insisted, holding up a string of pearls and an emerald necklace to either side of Clara’s neck. “Lady Violet has a vast collection of dresses. Besides, she is more than willing to help her future sister-in-law dress appropriately for her wedding day.”
“Are my gowns truly that bad?” she asked.
“No, my lady. But they are a bit…Well…” She hesitated.
“Shiny?” another maid said helpfully.
“Yes. Shiny. Too shiny for the chapel, I think. The dowager wouldn’t approve, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” Clara said, feeling rather ill-equipped. “Perhaps I should undo some of the beaded stitching in the coming days.”
Two maids that stood closest to Clara paused in their preparations as they exchanged glances with one another. Turning to face the housekeeper, Clara wondered if she hadsaid something wrong. Mrs. Bridges had also stopped moving, appearing both surprised and appalled.
“My lady, you’ll be a duchess tomorrow. You needn’t fix your own dresses.”
“Oh no, I just meant—”
