Page 170 of His Grace, the Duke
With a warm feeling settling deep in her chest, Rosalie followed them all inside.
Just as she promised, an hour later Paulette was ordering Rosalie to her bedroom so a new ball gown could be tried on and properly fitted. They left the rest of the boisterous house guests below. Mrs. Davies led the way as Rosalie, Paulette, and the dowager made their way towards her room.
Paulette wasted no time directing the maids. They soon set up a trifold mirror in the corner. A set of boxes were arranged on the end of the bed, their lids already removed. “I ‘ave three for you to try, Your Grace,” Paulette explained.
“Tell me my James at least offered you a nosegay on the day,” the dowager said with a sigh, sinking into a chair.
Rosalie stilled, her hands on the clasps of her dress. “Umm... no, he didn’t.”
“Did you have a veil? The barest trim of lace? Anything that might denote you were a bride on her wedding day?”
“No,” Rosalie replied. “It was all a bit rushed,” she admitted, focusing her attention on her clasps rather than the sternness of her mother-in-law’s eyes. “We had breakfast together and walked to the village. Burke and Tom joined us as witnesses. It was quiet. Perfect, actually,” she finished with a smile.
“It sounds like a dream,” said Paulette distractedly. “Aha, zis is ze first choice.” She lifted a beautiful cream silk gown out of its box. “Simple but elegant, non?”
“No,” the dowager replied with a frown. “She is not a debutante at her first ball. She is a duchess. What else did you bring?”
Paulette was unfazed by her rudeness, handing the dress off to a waiting maid as she reached for the next one. “Zis one is a new design,” she said, holding it up. It was a lovely thing of soft pink satin with a lace overlay. “I call itLa Rose Rose,” she said with a chuckle.
“Your thoughts, Duchess?” the dowager asked with a raised brow.
“It’s beautiful,” Rosalie replied.
Paulette narrowed her eyes at her. “Hmm... and back in ze box she goes,” she said, stuffing it unceremoniously away. “But now we come to ma précieux trésor. Zis one you cannot deny.” She folded back the paper of the last box and lifted out a stunning ball gown. It was ivory silk, gathered at the bodice. A geometric diamond pattern in shades of blue and silver beads circled the waistline. The diamonds grew in size as the eye fell to the floor. The bottom hem was scalloped, ending with a lovely little train.
“It’s beautiful,” Rosalie sighed. “The diamonds are like snowflakes.”
“Try it on,” the dowager directed.
In minutes, Rosalie stood on the stand before her trifold mirror, marveling at the cut and style of the gown. The sleeves were sheer and capped. The beading made the bottom of the dress heavy, swaying a bit as she moved.
“This is the one,” the dowager declared.
“Absolument,” chimed the modiste. “I always know ze right gown for ze right lady. I shall take ze others and burn zem.”
“Don’t you dare,” Rosalie cried. “Please, would you go to Elizabeth and Mariah and offer them the other dresses as my gift? Could you alter three dresses in a night? Oh no, that is too much,” she said more to herself.
Paulette just laughed. “As long as your belle-mère is content paying a hefty bill, I shall sew until my fingers bleed, ma chérie. I ‘ave your measurements from before, so zis gown is almost parfaite.”
Rosalie smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She caught the dowager’s eye and her smile fell. “Could you, umm... would you mind giving us a moment?”
“Of course,” Paulette cooed. “I shall go find my Horatio and feed him too much cake.”
The two maids followed her out, softly shutting the door behind them.
Rosalie stood still, her eyes on her own reflection in the mirror. “Why did you really come?” she murmured.
“I told you why,” the dowager replied, tapping the edge of her teacup with her sugar spoon.
“And that’s it, then?” she pressed with a raised brow. “You came to throw us a ball to celebrate our marriage... andyou have no harsh words for me? No admonishments? Shall I walk through the doors of my dining room only to have a piano fall on my head?”
The dowager snorted. “Do you want harsh words from me, Rosalie?” She lifted her gaze to Rosalie’s reflection in the mirror. “Do you want me to hate you, child?”
“No,” Rosalie replied. “But I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” she added softly.
“And why would I hate you?”
Rosalie balled her hands into nervous fists at her sides. “Because I did the one thing you asked me not to do. You asked me to keep my distance from the gentlemen in this house. From James and from Burke... even George. I did not. George is my friend. In the end, he took my advice over yours. Burke is... well Burke,” she added, eyes darting away. “And James is my husband.”
