Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Men liked to say that women were the most complex, vexing creatures alive, but Evie had the distinct impression that they were simply projecting those very same characteristics on the fairer sex. Indeed, there was nothing more confusing than a man who was hot one moment and then freezing cold the next.
At least with Colin, he was pretty much consistent. Daniel was an entirely different story altogether…
Right after they arrived home after the fireworks show at Vauxhall, he had muttered a brusque “Good night” before stomping off to his tower, leaving not only Evie but also her grandmother and the Dowager Duchess thoroughly perplexed.
The next few days after that were hell for the servants.
Daniel seemed to find something wrong with everything—his coffee was not bitter enough or hot enough. He found a speck of dust on an antique vase he had never cared for before. He would snap at Barnaby for the slightest thing. His valet could not prepare his clothes fast enough…
All of that, on top of the rushed wedding preparations, had the servants scurrying about anxiously, jumping at the mere sight of his shadow or the sound of his footsteps. As a result, more mistakes were made, and Daniel grew even more irascible.
It was madness.
It was also absolutely unnecessary, and Evie was of the mind to tell her betrothed precisely that—if he would talk to her, at least.
The past few days, he had communicated to her in nearly unintelligible grunts and one-word responses that she feared she would be driven out of her mind. He was making her crazy—and not in a very good way.
Which was why she was looking forward to spending the rest of the afternoon enjoying tea with her friends—even if all they wanted to discuss were the details of the wedding.
Evie sat quietly, sipping her tea as her grandmother and the Dowager Duchess debated about the best flowers to festoon the wedding breakfast with.
“The ceremony will be held in the drawing room,” the Dowager Duchess pondered. “I was thinking that a spray of myrtles here and there would be lovely.”
“Yes.” Lady Wellington nodded in agreement. “For love and marriage. And violets, too—for faithfulness.”
Evie nearly choked on her tea when her grandmother mentioned that. After all, Daniel had already stipulated that they were both free to entertain their own lovers outside of their union—provided that they were both discreet, of course.
Phoebe, however, shot her a worried look as she delicately wiped her lips with her napkin. She was spared from further questioning when Barnaby announced the arrival of Madame Dumosse.
“Madame Dumosse?” Lady Wellington looked rather surprised. “But we had not commissioned anything from her since the start of the Season…”
Their questions, however, were answered when the premier couturier in London sailed into the parlor with a huge smile on her face. A bevy of assistants trailed after her, each one of them holding boxes of different sizes.
“For Lady Evelyn Fitzroy,” Madame Dumosse announced in her pleasantly accented voice. She motioned for one of her assistants to approach her with the largest box and turned towards Evie. “His Grace commissioned your wedding dress just last week. It is the most beautiful creation of the atelier, to date.”
Evie frowned slightly at that.
Last week? But we had not even—
“Oh, what perfect timing!” Scarlett clapped her hands excitedly, seemingly oblivious to the confusion on her friend’s face. “Quick, Evie! Let us see it!”
“His Grace certainly is generous.” Lady Wellington smiled in approval.
“Indeed,” Evie murmured, still in shock. She had not even thought to buy a dress specifically for her wedding.
“Well, you did not think that Daniel would have allowed you to walk down the aisle in any dress, did you?” The Dowager Duchess laughed.
The lack of response from Evie told her that she did exactly that.
Most brides had months to prepare before their nuptials, but with her own so close, she barely had any time to prepare.
“Not exactly just any dress.” She smiled sheepishly. “I have a beautiful gown that I have yet to wear—”
“Non! Non!” Madame Dumosse gasped, a hand to her heart as if Evie had just uttered something sacrilegious. Or treasonous. “How could we allow a duchess to walk down the aisle in ordinary garb?”
“It is not exactly ordinary—”
The gown she had in mind was specially commissioned from Madame Dumosse at the start of the Season, and she had saved the beautiful ice-blue dress for a more… special occasion. However, the couturière reacted as if she had just announced she was going to get married in one of her old morning dresses. It truly was laughable.
“His Grace really should not have…” she trailed off helplessly.
“Nonsense!” Madame Dumosse smiled at her. “This is a show of His Grace’s affection. Why, I had never had a man barge into the atelier to demand anything for his betrothed! Most would even beg me to stow away my finest fabrics before their wives arrived!” she added with a mischievous wink.
Indeed, it was most generous of Daniel to have commissioned a dress especially for her and at the height of the Season, at that. No doubt about it, Madame Dumosse and her seamstresses must have worked day and night to finish the gown, not to mention all the other commissions they must have set aside to finish this particular dress at such a tight deadline.
If it had been her business, Evie would have been left in tears at such a request.
Daniel does not make requests. He makes demands, and he always, always expects them to be fulfilled.
In any case, he must have paid quite a premium for it. No businessman in his right mind would throw away half his clientèle for the demands of just one client, unless they knew that taking such a risk would more than make up for it—and Evie believed that Madame Dumosse was a particularly shrewd businesswoman. She had to be to become one of the most sought-after couturières in all of London.
At Scarlett’s enthusiastic urging, she slowly lifted the cover of the box that had been held out for her. A layer of tissue paper covered the dress wrapped carefully within. When she lifted the tissue paper, a collective gasp rang out in the room, and Evie felt her heart stop.
Inside the box was simply the most beautiful dress she had ever seen—and she had not even lifted it yet. The fabric looked as if someone had gathered the moonlight and spun it into cloth. Crystals encrusted the bodice in delicate, lacy patterns, almost as if someone had collected the stars in the sky and sewn them into the fabric.
“Oh, that is lovely!” Phoebe breathed in awe. “His Grace is a man of great taste.”
“He is, indeed.” Madame Dumosse nodded in agreement. “In fact, he was the one who chose the fabric.”
Even Evie was surprised. “He did?”
The couturière smiled. “He said he wanted his bride to be garbed in moonlight.”
“That is… very romantic,” Scarlett muttered. “And so unlike the Duke.”
“Hush!” Phoebe chastised her softly. “That is not very nice.”
“But I am rarely nice.” The redhead grinned back at her. “Much to my mama’s dismay, I’m afraid.”
The other ladies burst into laughter at her blunt honesty, and even Madame Dumosse promised her that she would make just as beautiful a dress for her for her own wedding.
“Of course, you must be betrothed first.” Evie chortled. “After all, one cannot have a wedding trousseau without a wedding.”
“Speaking of the trousseau…” Madame Dumosse smiled at Evie as she turned and waved a hand towards her assistants. One by one, they opened their boxes to reveal numerous stockings and dresses, lacy underthings and the like.
“My word!” Lady Wellington gasped. “Does His Grace mean to change my granddaughter’s entire wardrobe?”
The Dowager Duchess only laughed. “It would seem so, Lavinia. That young man,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It seems I worried for nothing.”
Evie could only shake her head. “I worry that he might empty the coffers of Ashton Hall just for a wedding trousseau!”
“Oh, far from it.” The Dowager Duchess smiled with a twinkle in her eyes. “But I shall leave it up to you to discuss that with him.”
But how was Evie going to be able to discuss anything with him at all when he hardly talked to her? One might even say that he was going to great lengths to avoid talking to her at all.
Evie could only shake her head inwardly at that.
Whatever she envisioned her marriage to be, she certainly did not want her husband to avoid talking to her. Most wives in the ton might think this most ideal, but she would not countenance such an arrangement!
One of these days, she meant to have a very lengthy conversation with him—one that she would not allow him to evade.
Daniel had never encountered a more difficult endeavor than to avoid someone currently living under his roof.
Ever since the night at Vauxhall, he had been doing his damnedest to make sure that he was never with Evie alone, having discovered for himself that in her presence, his self-control was practically nonexistent.
The woman was a living, breathing temptation. Seduction made flesh.
And he was the pitiful sod who was so unable to resist her.
If any of his previous paramours heard of it, they would laugh themselves silly and perhaps suggest a nice sojourn in Bedlam.
His train of thought was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Daniel looked up, half-afraid that he was going to find Evie before him.
It would not do well for me to deflower the bride before the wedding night.
He laughed harshly to himself.
Fortunately, it was just Caroline. She stood in the doorway with a wistful smile on her face.
“Come now, you are usually so eager to talk,” he muttered. “Whatever are you standing there for, smiling at me like that?”
The truth was that Daniel was so used to observing people that he found it thoroughly disconcerting when people just looked at him without saying anything, as if he was the one being scrutinized.
“I was just wondering how greatly you have changed,” the Dowager Duchess mused, before laughing softly and shaking her head. “You have been so adamant against taking a wife, and now, here you are, gifting your betrothed with a wardrobe fit for a queen.”
She deserves so much more. After all, it is no easy feat to be married to me.
“I take it that my order has been delivered,” he said dismissively instead, shrugging casually.
Caroline simply crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him with those unnervingly knowing gray eyes of hers. This woman, who—for all intents and purposes—was supposed to be his distant aunt, was the one who could see through his facade.
Most of the time, anyway.
“I also think that you had it delivered at precisely the right moment,” she pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Madame Dumosse would have never thought to intrude at an hour most suited for entertaining guests.”
“Perhaps she is busy,” he countered offhandedly. “She is, after all, one of the best modistes in the city—or so you keep telling me.”
“I am glad to see that you have been listening to me.” Caroline smirked. “And how could the woman be too busy when you have her working on Lady Evelyn’s trousseau alone?”
Daniel tightened his grip on the document he had been pretending to peruse. Sometimes, this “aunt” of his got a little too close to the truth.
Too close for comfort.
“I think it was a splendid gesture, though,” she continued without waiting for his reply. “Lady Evelyn was rendered speechless—in a good way, of course. Perhaps there is hope for you, after all.”
Laughingly, she turned around and walked out of his study, leaving him to ponder her words.
What hope was there for a man like him?
And that trousseau? It was the least he could do for Evie, now that she had to spend the rest of her life with him.
He groaned and ran his hand through his hair. The document he had been pretending to be so engrossed in was thrown aside in frustration.
In a few more days, Evie would become his wife. He could only hope she would not come to regret life with him in the future.