“I am not unaffected. Farewell, Mother. I will write when I am safely there.”
He walked out, unwilling to betray the storm of his own thoughts to a woman who lived each day in a storm of her own making, if not over china patterns and a wish for more lace than over every bit of gossip she could milk from a world of agony created merely for her amusement.
Because he wasn’t unaffected—or half as calm as he’d tried to portray.
He loved his Uncle Elgin. And between the newspaper and his cousin’s agitated writing, it wasn’t hard to conclude that some title-hunting creature had inserted herself into the Duke of Chesterton’s path and was not to be shaken loose. If the gossips were having a delightful time of it at his uncle’s expense then Ryder was not content to allow a disaster to unfold beyond his reach.
He’d meant what he’d said. If he was going to lose his place in the line of succession, so be it. But it would not be without ensuring that everything was above board and that whoever this girl was, she wasn’t making off with the family silver after every call.
Scarlett alighted from the carriage with her dear friend, Ivy Hastings, and then linked arms as they made their way up the steps into Madame Beecher’s dress shop. It was hard to say that her wardrobe lacked for anything but as her exposure in good company multiplied, Father had made it clear that a few additional gowns would not be wasted. He hadn’t needed to repeat the generous offer.
Starr on the other hand had politely declined to endure the exercise of shopping and worse, the torment of the fitting room. Even now, Scarlett marveled that they could be so different in temperament and then in the next breath, read each other’s thoughts.
For Ivy, it was a grand treat to be out with her friend and in on the fun.
“Will you select something for yourself, Ivy?”
“Oh, no! Though if something catches my eye, I may change my mind. No doubt when my time comes, I will have to wade into the waters of fashion for a new wardrobe of my own but…there is no rush.”
It was heady liberation to be out without a chaperone on their heels but a dressmaker was considered a woman’s realm and safe enough for the occasion, especially since they had a coachman and footman outside the door if some strange danger arose.
“I feel so grown up,” Ivy whispered to Scarlett as they crossed the threshold.
“That’s because you are,” Scarlett whispered back then turned her attention to Madame Beecher who was approaching with the enthusiasm and energy of a sirocco. “Madame Beecher, I have come again and brought my dear friend, Miss Ivy Hastings. I wished to introduce her to the finest and kindest dressmaker in all of London and let her see for herself what to expect when she makes her debut.”
“Miss Blackwell! And Miss Hastings! I am humbled! Truly humbled that you would grace my establishment!” Madame Beecher swept them into the back room where a settee was arranged to allow them to make their selections in comfort while the shop girls wheeled and hovered about them with fabrics and fashion plates. “I have read every drip and drop of the Blackwell Beauties and do not mind telling you that business has been very good thanks to your patronage as word has spread.”
“Word has spread?” Scarlett asked carefully.
“If a girl wants to get a duke, then Madame Beecher’s is the key!” She clapped her hands merrily. “Once your engagement is announced, I may just have to put that slogan on a placard for my windows!”
“Oh….please….don’t, Madame Beecher,” Scarlett said softly, certain that all the air in the shop had disappeared. “It would be…terribly premature and…”
Ivy squared her shoulders, her back stiffening and without losing a beat, channeled her mother who was the queen of commanding etiquette. “Miss Blackwell is not to be fodder for a slogan, Madame Beecher. I am horrified to think that such a thing would ever be deemed acceptable and if His Grace were to catch wind of it—I would think it would not be an asset to your lovely shop to earn his distaste at the lack of discretion such an action would demonstrate.”
Scarlett stared at her friend in happy surprise and then immediately tried to sober her expression to support Ivy’s theatrical efforts. “Discretion is so important in these matters.”
“Oh! Oh, yes, of course! I was—jesting! Discretion is ingrained in our every practice here and the privacy and protection of our clientele must take precedence over all things. Oh, yes! Without question!”
“That is good to hear, Madame Beecher. Thank you so much for your assurances.” Ivy smoothed out her skirts.
“What can I do for you today, Miss Blackwell?”
“I would like to add two day dresses, a dinner dress and one ball gown to my trousseau.”
“Nothing for the afternoon?” Madame Beecher asked.
“What do you think, Ivy?”
Ivy made a show of looking pensive. “I love your afternoon dresses but another would be very practical and something exclusively for making calls. First impressions are so important but to be seen calling a second time without a fresh approach…one begins to wonder if it demonstrates a lack of effort, would you not agree?”
Scarlett smiled. Oh, Ivy Hastings! I am going to take you shopping each and every time!
“Oh, yes. I will have to agree.” She looked to Madame Beecher. “I trust you to help me to hold my own.”
“You will do more than that, Miss Blackwell,” Madame Beecher replied merrily. “You will shine so brightly that every other young woman will pale in your presence!” She bustled off without waiting for a response, several of the girls launching into a frenzy of activity at the quiet bidding of their mistress. Fabrics were pulled and fashion plates laid out for inspection as the complex task of selections and decisions began.
Time flew as they put their heads close together to admire the details and infinite possibilities of ribbon, pleating and trains. Ivy laughed along with her as they debated the philosophical ramifications of marquise sleeves and the universal appeal of velvet. Ivy’s eye for colors was invaluable as the afternoon unfolded and before it was over, Scarlett was sure that they’d created at least one or two masterpieces in the lot.
Tea was brought but ultimately, the task was completed. Madame Beecher returned with her appointment book to make arrangements for fittings and Scarlett took notes. They stood to make their farewells just as the bell above the shop’s door jangled again and a formidable woman came into the door with a younger pale version of herself in tow.
Lady Durham. Oh, God. Let today be the day she tries to be kind instead of—
“Ah, what is this? One of the Blackwell Beauties! But which is it I wonder! So inconsiderate of you to make every encounter a dreaded puzzle, Miss Blackwell.”
Very well. Not today.
“I am Scarlett Blackwell, your ladyship. This is my friend, Miss Ivy Hastings.”
Lady Durham barely bothered to glance at Ivy.
“I am out to do a scant bit of shopping for my daughter, Charlotte. But what a strange twist of fate to meet you out and about, Miss Scarlett.”
Scarlett and Ivy dutifully nodded at the introduction. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Charlotte.”
Charlotte said nothing, her smile so thin and fleeting that it was painful to behold. If Miss Charlotte Durham appeared to be out of practice at simple expressions of happiness and that was the saddest notion of all.
Poor thing! It makes a person want to steal her away and do whatever it takes to teach her how to blink…
“She has also come out this Season, though of course, with a presentation to Her Majesty, it is an altogether different experience than yours I suspect.” Lady Durham reached out a gloved hand to finger a bolt of fabric laid out on the counter, her lip curled in distaste.
“Yes,” Scarlett replied softly. “How wonderful for you, Miss Charlotte.”
Charlotte was stone and Scarlett abandoned the effort to appease the girl.
“Well, we were just on our way to—”
“Miss Blackwell, if I may say
, I am extremely close friends with Lady Aldridge and can scarce believe the rumors that you have brought Chesterton to heel. Is it true?”
Scarlett gave her Ivy a look, begging her silently for privacy and after a few seconds, she obliged, retreating from a woman who was clearly not interested in anyone’s company but Scarlett’s. Ivy gave her an apologetic glance, retreating far enough for decorum but close enough to still come to her friend’s aid should the need arise.
I can do this. I am a woman grown. She is an unkind gossip just fishing for a bite and once she realizes there’s nothing to be gained, she’ll beg off and dear Madame Beecher can endure her for a while.
“I am sure you did not mean to compare His Grace to a foxhound, Lady Durham,” Scarlett said with a smile. “Rumors are so rarely trustworthy.”
“Yet these persist,” Lady Durham said firmly. “Everywhere I go, someone is spitting out your name, Miss Blackwell.”
“Oddly, I hear almost nothing of it for which I am very grateful.”
“Grateful? You should be terrified, Miss Blackwell.”
“Terrified? That is—what a strong word. I am…simply enjoying my first Season and honored to meet so many illustrious people.”
Lady Durham shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with a mockery of sympathy. “Such a pretty thing as yourself—has no one offered you a bit of guidance? It’s a pity but allow me to see if I can amend the oversight. For you see, women do not climb. They cling to the rung of the ladder they are born to and if they are smart, they never loosen their hold for a single moment. If they let go, they fall. Down is the only direction a woman can tumble.”
Scarlett did her best to hold her ground. “A woman can marry well, can’t she? Improve her situation?”
The dowager’s laugh was like ice breaking over sharp gravel, sending chills down Scarlett’s spine. “Of course, undisciplined infatuation can on a rare occasion overtake reason and civilized social order. It has happened. Naturally never without consequences and not often enough to give decent people of good breeding and taste much tolerance for it.”
“Naturally.” She echoed the word without any emotion, hating the flood of shame that threatened to overtake her.
“If a woman is very foolish and strives to overreach, if she looks too high above her position and strives to tread where she should not…” Lady Durham sighed for effect but it came out more as a snarl of disgust. “I have no sympathy for them when they discover that it can be very cold on the wrong side of people’s doors and for that matter, on the streets of London if that is where they land.”
Scarlett’s shock and anger was instantaneous. She shifted to try to get around the woman and her skirts without a care to decorum. “I think I should go.”
“Yes, I agree.” Lady Durham smiled. “Though I did enjoy the entertainment of seeing you for myself. I had heard so much of Blackwell Beauties that I was afraid I would have to buy a ticket and attend some grubby gypsy tent for my chance. But see? You saved me the indignity. How very generous of you.”
She attacks me without realizing that it’s all a ruse with Chesterton. But what would she say if she knew about Stafford?
“I find that generosity is easy when I perceive a lack of it in others.”
Lady Durham stiffened, triumph bleeding away from her expression. “May I speak more frankly to you, Miss Blackwell?”
“You…weren’t being frank before?” Scarlett blinked in horror. “By all means, your ladyship. Do express your thoughts as directly as you desire.”
“Finer ladies from the best families have long been in pursuit of the Duke of Chesterton for a match. If, and I would stress that word, if the duke is finally considering abandoning bachelorhood, then it will not be a woman like you who will win him. He will marry where there is an advantage for him to do so.”
“How pragmatic of him.”
“You doubt the veracity of my words?”
“Not at all.”
“Your great grandfather may have made a fortune in trade but I have it on good authority that before Gordon Blackwell, your family consisted of carters and shipbuilders.” Lady Durham sniffed the air as if the very mention of men in the trades evoked the smell of sweat and grime. “Carpenters and shifters without an acre to call their own.”
Silence engulfed Scarlett as she had to bite her tongue so hard that she brought tears to her eyes. “How is that not a compliment? Is it not a better testament to those men that they did more than survive, but thrived?”
Lady Durham shook her head. “Careful, dear. Your American blood has watered down your sensibilities. Best not let Chesterton hear you sputtering such nonsense.”
Ivy came up behind her the sweetest smile on her face, a small sample of lace in her hand. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It is generous of you to note how resourceful her ancestors have been but I must collect my friend and see her off to another shop. The air has grown stale in here and we are sorely in need of fresh and less hateful air. Pardon us, your ladyship but if you don’t stand aside to allow us to pass, it may become quite the tale, wouldn’t you agree?”
“What?” Lady Durham asked sharply.
Ivy’s smile never changed. “Gossip. I wonder what they will make of a woman of your standing throwing temper tantrums in a public shop and insulting a young girl who has done nothing to earn your displeasure beyond accepting a few dances with a duke when he asked her to dance. Would it not draw attention to your situation? Would not those same wagging tongues ask how many times the Duke of Chesterton has waltzed with your animated offspring? Or would that answer provide a better clue to your attack today?”
“H-how dare you!”
“Come, Scarlett. Lady Durham was about to stand aside and let us leave. Wasn’t she?” Ivy asked the last directly to Lady Durham. “Or was there more about bloodlines and ladders she wished to convey?”
If Lady Durham had disliked Scarlett, she loathed Ivy with a savage and open expression of disgust, but in any case, she stepped aside trembling with rage.
Ivy dropped the lace at Lady Durham feet and pulled Scarlett away. “Come away, dearest. Let’s leave Lady Durham to the delights of shopping with her lovely and vivacious daughter and see if we cannot make a stop at the milliner’s.”
Scarlett nodded and numbly allowed herself to be led away.
It wasn’t until they were nearly at the carriage that she found her voice. “Ivy?”
“Yes?”
“Can you do me a vast favor?”
“Of course! Anything!”
“Swear you will always be my friend because…as an enemy, I think I should throw myself into the Thames rather than face you.”
“Was I terrifying?” Ivy asked, preening happily.
“Like a villain out of Aunt Grace’s penny dreadfuls!”
“Just so! I was trying to sound like that evil empress, do you remember? The one who could drink people’s souls out of them just by looking into their eyes?”
“Oh! You were brilliant!” Scarlett stared at her in wonder. “You were incredibly brilliant! Aren’t you nervous about what she’ll do?”
“I’m the daughter of a painter and as obscure as a ghost to her. And who will she tell? What would she say? That an eighteen-year-old dressed her down publicly and left her speechless? I think she’d rather die first.”
“I am in awe of you, Ivy Hastings.”
“I shall perform whenever you need me if you’ll do me an immense favor in return.”
“Yes!”
“Wait!” Ivy laughed as they climbed up into the waiting carriage. “You don’t know what the favor is yet!”
“I don’t care! Now that I know your hidden talent, I feel immensely better and just a little bit invincible.”
Ivy sighed as they settled into their seats. “It’s a deal with the devil but I’m holding you to it!”
“I find those are the best bargains and when they are not, I always have a better story to tell at the dinner table.” Scarlett announce
d and then both of them dissolved into giggles, any pretense of being grown-ups abandoned to mirth and friendship.
Chapter 11
Scarlett made it home, exhausted from the shopping trip but less bruised than she might have been without Ivy’s swift defense. She removed her bonnet to hand it over to the footman and realize that her handsome father was waiting for her on the stairs.
“Did Starr buy a few things as well?”
“No, Father…she preferred to stay home and I ended up going with Ivy.”
“She promised me she would go shopping.” He furrowed his brow, a man unused to being disobeyed.
“Did you specify that she must shop for dresses? For I warrant she will happily comply and be on Burke and Waters’ doorstep tomorrow for as many books as she can carry.” Scarlett took his arm to walk up the stairs together. “Don’t be cross with her please, Father. If you wish it, I could drag her out for a new gown but I think she would rather be beaten. Or a better solution, since she and I are the same size, I can shop twice as often and spare everyone the misery of it!”
“This alliance of yours is daunting.”
“You cannot fuss at her. After all, she takes after Mother, doesn’t she? How is that not pleasing to you?”
“It pleases me beyond measure.” He sighed and covered the hand on his arm with his own. “You both please me beyond measure. Are you having a good Season, dearest?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Is there…anything you’d like to talk about?”
“No, Father.”
“Are you sure? Tell me what has you looking so anxious over there, Button.”
“I think I’m just flummoxed by the puzzle of men.” Scarlett looked at him as they hesitated on the first floor landing, tipping her head to one side as if studying him from a different angle would yield a better view. “Father, were you truly a rogue when you were younger?”
Ashe smiled. “I was. It is a miracle your mother saw anything worth salvaging when she met me. Though perhaps, not at first…”
The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) Page 12
