A Duke of Her Own (Desperate Duchesses #5)

A Duke of Her Own (Desperate Duchesses #5) Page 13

Whereas her own gown was a perfectly good stone-colored muslin. It was definitely serviceable. In fact, she thought it had served her for at least two or three seasons. The petticoat had a deep flounce, which was all one could say for its claim to fashion, especially since it also had the dreaded ruffled sleeves.

“I do not wish to pack my best gowns,” Eleanor interrupted, putting her fork down.

Anne raised an eyebrow.

Her mother just kept talking. “I shall send a message to Madame Gasquet and beg her to deliver the costume we ordered a few weeks ago.”

“I no longer want that particular gown,” Eleanor said, thinking of its long sleeves and longer petticoat.

“You simply must make an effort,” her mother scolded, finally looking up from the head of the table. “Anne took me to task this morning for allowing you to look so passé, and she’s right. You have shown so little interest in your appearance that I had lost heart for the battle. But now you are to be a duchess. You must dress à la mode.”

“I intend to,” Eleanor said. “The problem is that I own very few gowns that are akin to what Anne is wearing this morning. I would like to be as fashionable as she is at this moment.”

“The only thing that could make my jacket more modish would be tassels on the collar,” Anne said, with a complete lack of modesty. “I am considering the alteration. Did Villiers effect this miraculous change in your attitude? His coat was rather magnificent.”

“He has little to do with it. Your assessment brought me to my senses.”

“Brought you to your senses?” their mother intervened. “You’ve always been comfortingly sensible, Eleanor. Unlike Lisette.”

“What Eleanor means,” Anne said, “is that she’s agreed to stop hiding her beauty. She intends to dress like a desirable lady instead of a frump.”

“No daughter of mine could be a frump,” the duchess said. “I wouldn’t allow it.” Still, Eleanor could see that the idea was sinking into her mother’s head. She picked up her lorgnette and frowned through it at her. “I wouldn’t want you to dress like trollopy slattern. I find some current styles unacceptable.”

“Certainly not,” said Anne, who prided herself on wearing the most risqué fashions in all London. “You needn’t worry, Mother. I’ll send the footman for an armful of my gowns. Another footman must go to Madame Gasquet because I have three gowns on order, and I’ll donate them to the cause. Perhaps she will even have time to adjust for Eleanor’s bosom. If not, the necklines are quite low, and I doubt it will matter much.”

Eleanor bit her lip. She was apparently going from modest to decadent overnight.

“What we must consider,” the duchess announced, “is that your sister made a splendid match in her very first year. She turned down a marquis for Mr. Bouchon; he may not have an illustrious title—”

“But darling Jeremy has that lovely land in the dells,” Anne pointed out. “Acres and acres and acres, all filled with sheep. I am very expensive.”

“That is certainly true,” her mother agreed. “I do believe that your wardrobe this year cost double mine and Eleanor’s put together. Your father complained bitterly.”

Eleanor had never been expensive. If her mother indicated that a new gown was in order, she got through the fitting without fuss and with only one dictate: that she didn’t resemble a hussy.

“You and I are not so dissimilar,” her sister said now, apparently guessing exactly what was going through Eleanor’s mind.

“There I disagree,” the duchess said. “From the moment you debuted, Anne, I lived in fear that you would be compromised, whereas I’ve never had a moment of worry about Eleanor.”

“Eleanor is certainly prudent,” Anne said with a little snort that her mother didn’t hear.

“You must try to look more like your sister,” their mother said, nodding at Eleanor. “Now I think on it, Anne, you’ll have to accompany us.”

“Oh, I couldn’t leave Jeremy!”

“Of course you can. There’s nothing better for marriage than farewells. Your father and I rarely quarrel, a fact I attribute entirely to our lengthy separations.”

Since their father was prone to travel and spent most of his time in foreign climes, it was true that the opportunities for marital strife were limited.

“You needn’t come with me,” Eleanor said to Anne. “I’ll just inform Rackfort that I wish to pay more attention to my attire.” There was a moment of silence as her female relatives examined her. Eleanor raised a self-conscious hand to her hair. “I thought it looked quite nice, given that Rackfort was complaining of a toothache.”

“You’re right, Mother,” Anne said decisively. “I shall come, and I shall bring my maid. No, I shall do even better. I’ll give you Willa for the trip, Eleanor. It will be a true sacrifice and I expect I’ll gain a halo just for it. Let no one say that I don’t love my sister!”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t Willa just give Rackfort a lesson or two?”

“Rackfort is worse than no maid at all,” Anne stated. “You shall have Willa, and I will make do with my second maid, Marie. I’ve been training her, and she’s quite good with hair.”

“I suspect you want to travel with us just for the sake of gathering gossip.”

“Someone has to make sure that you look your best,” Anne said virtuously.

“I can lend you one of my gowns, if need be,” their mother said. “Luckily, I have retained my figure.”

“Eleanor is not going to wear your gowns,” Anne stated, “though I know you meant it kindly. She already has the knack of dressing like a dowager; now she needs to learn a different style.”

By nine in the morning two days later, the redoubtable Madame Gasquet had sent the gowns ordered for Anne, as well as a deep blue brocade designed for some soon-to-be disappointed lady who happened to have appropriate measurements.

“It’s utterly perfect,” Anne said with satisfaction. “I happened to wander into the back room, and the moment I saw the girls stitching I knew that the color was just right for your eyes.”

“You snatched it away from whomever had ordered the gown?” Eleanor asked, eyeing her sister.

“Snatched has such unpleasant connotations,” Anne said. “I offered Madame Gasquet three times the price. Of course, she was lavishly grateful and practically threw the gown at me. You do know how much your patronage will mean once you are the Duchess of Villiers, don’t you?”

“Because the duke is so fashionable?” Eleanor asked, with a pang of misgiving.

“Precisely,” Anne said with a nod.

Eleanor opened her mouth to say that she couldn’t imagine herself achieving Villiers’s splendor when their mother called from the entrance hall. “I just need to say good-bye to Oyster,” she said, looking about for him. “He was here a moment ago.”

“Oh no, Oyster will come with us,” Anne said. “I’ll tie a bit of white lace on his collar so that he’s more fashionable.”

“Don’t be a fool,” their mother said, appearing in the doorway. “Of course Eleanor is not bringing her potbellied little horror of a dog.”