Chapter Six
During the three weeks of plotting and preparing for Rosy’s first event as Lady Rosabel—Diana refused to count the disastrous musicale the poor girl had attended—Diana had expected to see the duke occasionally. To her chagrin, no matter how much time she and her sisters spent at Grenwood House, she didn’t see him once, even in passing.
He talked to her sisters, though. They were helping him prepare for what was also to be his presentation as a duke. He’d somehow managed to get an agreement from the Earl of Foxstead to sponsor him. Apparently, Lord Foxstead was an investor in one of Grenwood’s projects. But Grenwood said not a word to her, about that or anything else.
It was hard to ignore the truth. He was avoiding her. As that became more apparent, she felt a sickening lurch in her belly very much like the one at that first ball after the news broke that Mama had run away. Everyone had avoided her as if she hadn’t bathed or dressed correctly, and now he was doing the same.
Grenwood had kissed her and found her wanting. What other explanation was there?
Now she and Rosy and Mrs. Ludgate were in the young woman’s bedchamber in the early morning. Mrs. Ludgate was tucking here, snipping a thread there, and generally making a lovely gown into an outstanding one.
Meanwhile, Diana had been putting the finishing touches on Rosy’s ensemble. Today was the big event—Rosy’s presentation and her intimate dinner entertainment afterward. But due to the strangeness of court dress these days, all their focus was on Rosy’s dinner gown, made of bronze-green silk gathered artfully just under the breasts. The dark hue of green with shadings of blue accentuated Rosy’s beautiful emerald eyes, and the silk was embroidered around the bottom. White beads ornamented the neckline as well as the sweet little sleeves.
“It’s finished,” Mrs. Ludgate pronounced and stood back.
“What do you think, Diana?” Rosy spun slowly to show it off.
“I think it’s splendid, don’t you?” Diana said. “Mrs. Ludgate, you have outdone yourself. Rosy looks even more gorgeous in that gown than usual.”
As Mrs. Ludgate murmured a thank-you, Rosy blushed. “I’m sure I don’t look gorgeous, but do I look at least pretty in this? I’ve been too anxious about tonight to gaze in the mirror.”
“Well, you absolutely must do so now.” Diana turned Rosy to face the mirror and waited for her reaction.
Rosy gaped at her own reflection. “Is that really me? I . . . I look like a princess.”
“You do, indeed. A princess setting out to gain many, many admirers. Especially once Eliza finishes with your hair this evening.” She called across the room to where her sister was sewing something. “Eliza, that turban fillet will be completed by the time for the dinner, won’t it?”
“It will,” Eliza said, never taking her eyes off the long tube of fabric she was ornamenting with rows of beads. “If people stop interrupting me, that is.”
“You’ll have no time to work on it once you leave for the Queen’s Drawing Room,” Diana said.
“I’m aware of that,” Eliza bit out.
They were all growing testy the closer it got to time for Rosy to meet the queen, and they were finding it harder to hide their testiness.
Verity appeared in the doorway. “Is Rosy presentable to a gentleman?”
“Depends on the gentleman,” Diana said. “Her hair is down.”
“Oh, I daresay her brother has seen that a time or two,” Verity said with a laugh.
Then she pulled the duke into the room, and Diana lost all capacity for speech. He was wearing another blue coat—this one of indigo, not a particularly fashionable color, but one that suited him. With his cream-colored silk waistcoat, linen cravat, and well-tailored pantaloons, which were shoved into highly polished top boots, he looked particularly delicious.
Not to mention uncomfortable to find himself in a room full of women. And her. He avoided her gaze, which set her straight about how he felt.
She’d hoped that their kiss meant she had a future possibility of marriage, not necessarily to him but at least to someone. But she’d obviously been putting too much importance on what to him must have been a moment’s whim. And if she couldn’t even entice the socially unsophisticated duke into behaving recklessly again, she would never get some other enterprising fellow to look past the scandal and actually court her.
It was probably a good thing she hadn’t expected to marry. She swallowed the tears gathering in her throat. She absolutely mustn’t make a cake of herself, and over a client no less. She knew better. And she was definitely too proud to let him think she was chasing him or some such nonsense.
“Lady Verity,” he began, with a swift glance at Diana. “I don’t mean to intrude—”
“Geoffrey!” Rosy cried. “You must come see how I look.”
He approached, his eyes fixed on his sister. His reaction when he saw Rosy was all Diana could have asked for. “My God, Rosabel,” he said in an awed voice. “You look like an angel. A real one, from heaven.”
“I know! Isn’t it wonderful?” She twirled for him. “Lady Diana designed it, and Mrs. Ludgate created it. Mrs. Ludgate, come meet my brother.”
The dressmaker appeared shocked by the very idea that a duke’s sister would introduce her to him, but she quickly hid her response and allowed Rosy to do so. To his credit, Grenwood was more cordial to the dressmaker than he’d been to Diana the first time they’d met. No one would ever have guessed that Mrs. Ludgate was far beneath him in consequence, and Diana was grateful for that. She adored the dressmaker’s work.