Chapter Twenty-One
In the last weeks, Victoria had attended more readings, musicales, museums, and card parties than she had in the entirety of her life. But each event only served as an opportunity for her and Chase to coo at each other.
Yes, coo. It would have been sickening, if it hadn’t been so amusing.
It had become the most delightful and hilarious of games. They each tried to out-darling the other. In these small gatherings, they praised each other, laughed, and made wild claims about the other’s magnificence.
Society was agog.
Their marriage was on everyone’s lips. Could the Duke of Chase truly be so enamored? Why, it seemed so!
But only a ball would truly tell. That’s what society was still saying. Yes, a grand ball where she would show the ton that she was indeed worthy of being his duchess. A ball would show she was no longer an acerbic bluestocking looked down upon by all of London.
Ha! Worthy, indeed.
But she and Chase were of an accord. Always. It was breathtaking and really quite a marvel. He would show her off at the grand ball, support her, and they would make a great show.
If she was honest, she was still nervous.
Even after the success of the theater and Lady Garret’s cheerful support. Every small success was not quite enough to assure her she wouldn’t be torn down at the upcoming ball by all those who had sneered at her before.
Still, she was made of stern stuff, and Derek would be at her side. A worthy ally against a sea of foes.
Gowns were necessary. Many, many more gowns.
And one that would suit for said upcoming ball.
So it was that Catharine threw her hands up and dramatically cast herself down on the chair in front of the long mirrors in the corner of Madame Claudette’s fitting room. “Victoria, I do not wish for all of those ribbons! It is not the style I prefer.”
Victoria gazed at the beautiful silver-lined ribbon and let out a sigh of envy. “But you would look marvelous in it, my dear.”
It was so lovely. The ribbon was embossed with silver flowers. Only someone as beautiful as her sister could manage such an embellishment, surely.
The dressmaker was new to both of them. Chase had suggested Madame Claudette, stating a duchess deserved the best. She did not ask how he knew who the best dressmaker was. Her husband was a resourceful fellow.
Catharine laughed, then smiled kindly. “I think you like the ribbons. And I think you should wear them. They’d suit your glorious mane.”
“Do not be a fool,” she chastised lightly, though she inwardly cringed. “I am not the sort for ribbons. I would look silly.”
“No, you would not,” Catharine protested, pushing herself to the edge of the delicate chair she’d so abused. “You would look striking.”
“No, no. I’m choosing something practical.”
Practical. Ha!
She was no longer practical. If she was, she’d tell her husband immediately that her father had tricked him. She’d have to confess. But what would he say? What would he think? She’d already explained some of it to Catharine, who had taken it with little drama and even less interest, stating that she had no wish to be a part of the nonsense that men brought any longer.
As a matter of fact, Victoria expected her sister to tell her any day now that she had no intention to marry. Perhaps Catharine didn’t know it yet…but she was certainly leaning in that direction.
The modiste, Madame Claudette, gave her a skeptical stare.
“Madame, la duchesse,” she began in her beautiful French accent. “Mais oui! You may choose whatever gown you please. However, I think that you are making a great mistake.”
She looked at the dressmaker, her insides shaking in a way she loathed. She could stare down snakes, bugs, herds of sheep, and stubborn cows in the field. This world of gowns and jewels and female ornament? It made her feel quite off foot. Which was a nice way of not admitting her personal terror.
“Whatever can you possibly mean?” Victoria asked, willing herself not to sound alarmed.
“Your figure!” Madame Claudette exclaimed from her kneeling place at Victoria’s hem. “It is magnificent. You should not wish to hide it under something that is so—”