Page 27 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
"The décolletage, it must be precise," Madame declared, adjusting her measuring tape. "Too high, you look like a governess. Too low, you look like a..." she paused delicately."
"We're aiming for somewhere between governess and courtesan, then?" Catherine asked dryly.
Madame laughed. "Exactly! Lady Catherine understands fashion already."
They ordered twelve morning gowns, eight day dresses, ten evening gowns, and four ball gowns, each more elaborate than the last.
"The gold silk," Madame said, holding up a shimmer of fabric that seemed to capture sunlight. "For the special occasion. It will make you unforgettable."
After three exhausting hours at the modiste, they visited the other shops. At Harding, Catherine was fitted for dozens of pairs of gloves in kid, silk, and lace. The proprietor, Mr. Harding himself, bowed deeply upon learning she was Lady Catherine.
"An earl's daughter requires the finest quality," he insisted. "The white kid from France—pre-war stock, of course."
Their carriage was stopped in traffic near Hyde Park when Vivienne suddenly gripped Catherine's arm. "Look there—that's Lady Jersey in the barouche. One of the Almack's patronesses. And with her... oh my."
"What?"
"That's Emily Cowper, another patroness, and I believe that's her newest protégé, Miss Amelia Worthing. They say she's aiming for a duke."
"Are there many dukes available?" Catherine asked, watching the elegant ladies.
"Well, there's Devonshire, but he's practically ancient at forty. Bedford's heir is still unmarried, but he's reportedly odd. And of course, there's Ravensfield, but he's been absent so long no one really knows him. They say he was quite wild in his youth; some scandal with a married woman, then he disappeared into the military."
The traffic cleared, and they continued on. That afternoon, they received their first callers. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell arrived with her daughter, a pinched-looking girl named Harriet who seemed terrified of her own shadow.
"Lady Catherine," Mrs. Drummond-Burrell said, examining Catherine through her lorgnette. "I knew your father slightly. The Earl of Westmont was a man of good principles. Such a pity about the title going to that Scottish branch."
"My cousin Frederick seems a worthy successor," Catherine replied diplomatically, though she'd never actually met the man.
"Hmm. And you've come for the Season? Rather late in the year to begin. Most girls of your rank start at seventeen."
"I preferred to wait until I was ready for society," Catherine replied, meeting the older woman's gaze steadily.
"Indeed. Well, readiness is important. Too many young girls throw themselves at the first title that shows interest. Though as an earl's daughter yourself, you'll be looking quite high, I imagine. Nothing below a viscount, surely."
After they left, Vivienne laughed. "Well done! You passed the dragon's inspection. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell could freeze blood with that stare of hers."
More callers followed—Lady Sefton (charming and witty), Lady Pemberton (warm and motherly), and several young ladies who were clearly there to assess the competition.
"You'll receive vouchers for Almack's," one of them, Miss Sarah Ponsonby, said with barely concealed envy. "Lady Sefton mentioned that Earl Westmont's daughter would be most welcome."
"I'm honoured if she thinks so," Catherine replied modestly.
"And I heard Lord Pemberton is already interested," another girl, Miss Diana Fitzgerald, added. "He's a perfect match—five thousand a year and a lovely estate in Kent. Perfect for an earl's daughter who doesn't need to marry for money."
Two days passed in a whirlwind of shopping and social calls. Then, on the third morning, Vivienne burst into Catherine's room with unprecedented excitement.
"My dear! Such news! The old Duke of Ravensfield died yesterday morning. His son arrived just in time and they say the old man recognized him at the end. And the Duchess, bold as brass, is going ahead with the ball in just four days! She's calling it a memorial celebration—scandalous, but everyone will attend."
Catherine's heart lurched. "That seems terribly soon after a death."
"The Duchess says the old duke would have wanted life to continue, and the new duke needs to be established in society immediately. Something about urgent business matters requiring a settled succession." Vivienne's eyes gleamed. "Every unmarried lady in London is aflutter. A duke in need of a wife; it's like something from a novel!"
Lord Pemberton called that afternoon, bringing roses and careful condolences about the duke's death, though of course they'd never met the man.
"It's all anyone can talk about," he said, settling into his chair. "The new duke—no one's seen him in years. There are a dozen different stories about why he left."
"What sort of stories?" Catherine asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.
