Chapter 9

9

“Not the gray,” said Lucien as he picked up the roll of silk lying on the bed. The color was exactly what Chastity would have wanted. It was beautiful in her eyes, reminding her of the color of mercury. “What do you have in jewel tones?”

What a scandal this would be, if Lady Virtoux or Miss Rixon were to see Lucien and the Duke of Fortyne in her bedroom. Of course, Patience was also here, as well asMademoiselle Antoinette, Patience’s French maid, the seamstress from Huntington, and two adolescent girls who were her helpers.

“Jewel tones, m’lord?” asked the seamstress, who kept fingering the white apron over her blue linen dress. “All I have is in there. We don’t see many jewel tones round Huntington, m’lord.”

“ Mon Dieu , you must address him as his grace,” Mademoiselle Antoinette corrected her. “Both of them,” she said, throwing a quick glance at the Duke of Fortyne. “And you may call my mistress her grace.” She looked at Patience, who sat with a slightly green face at the open window, fanning herself. Pregnancy wasn’t easy on poor Patience.

With her small delicate hands, Mademoiselle Antoinette rummaged through the large basket that held several rolls of fabric. Her petite figure appeared almost doll-like in comparison to the voluminous hamper before her.

“Forgive me,” the seamstress said, executing a deep curtsy that caused her neatly coiffed chignon to become visible above the nape of her neck.

Her assistants wore expressions of utter horror under their bonnets as they watched Patience, Lucien, and Fortyne. They were dressed similarly to the seamstress, in simple linen dresses with aprons.

“No apologies necessary,” said Fortyne with a flick of his hand. He sat in the chair next to the large window, his hazel eyes in deep concentration on the contract in his hand. His long legs were crossed, the purple velvet of his tailored coat striking against his auburn hair. “You were praised for your skill, not for your fine manners, Mrs. Winston.”

“Jewel tones are ruby red, emerald green, sapphire blue,” explained Patience with a soft smile.

“Ah, I do have those,” said Mrs. Winston. “Several clients in rich estates around do like their colors. Though most folk do prefer pale muslins and grays.”

“ Voilà! ” Mademoiselle Antoinette exclaimed as she pulled out a roll of vibrant emerald fabric. “ émeraude! ”

Chastity stared at the gorgeous fabric with a strange feeling like she was not in her body. She was looking down upon herself, frozen and numb, from somewhere up near the ceiling. There stood a woman with a straight back and tight shoulders clutching her hands together, her lips in a firm line, her blue eyes huge.

“Excellent,” said Lucien as he took the fabric out of Mademoiselle Antoinette’s hands and walked to Chastity.

He let the roll unwrap and the fabric fall down her body. His eyes lit up as he looked her over, and Chastity felt a blush creeping through her. This was certainly not proper; he was almost touching her. But, again, there were several other people in the room.

Fortyne laid down his paper to look at her, and Patience suppressed a gasp and stood up.

Mademoiselle Antoinette clasped her hands together. “ Magnifique! ” She hurried towards Chastity and looked her over, businesslike. “You have good eye for female beauty, Your Grace,” she said to Lucien.

Chastity let out a small laugh. “Lucien is a great connoisseur.”

He grinned. “Female beauty is one of the most important of God’s creations.” He leaned towards her. “Especially beauty waiting to be discovered.”

Another hot flush rushed through Chastity as he threw the roll onto the bed. “This one, Mrs. Winston. Will you come here, please, Duchess?” He looked at Patience, who stood up and walked to him. “I’m thinking a gown just like this one”—he indicated Patience’s gown—“for daily activities.”

He was a whirlwind during the next half hour as he rummaged through the rolls of fabric, laid the colors he liked against Chastity and approved or disapproved, listed the reasons for each outfit. This one for walking. That one would be a ball gown. A gown for a hunt. A morning gown.

He discussed the details of how deep the necklines would be, and how high the waistlines, howto decorate the gowns with silk flowers or crystals. It was clear that he had a keener eye for how to accentuate her figure’s natural grace than she did herself.

Even Mademoiselle Antoinette looked at him all wide-eyed and kept complimenting him on his taste and his ability to elevate female beauty.

“Not just any female beauty,” she thought she heard him murmur. “I know this one quite well.”

As the time came to take Chastity’s measurements, the gentlemen were politely ushered out. Chastity found herself standing in naught but her chemise and corset while Patience and Mademoiselle Antoinette and Mrs. Winston talked. Chastity once again had the strange feeling of floating outside her body.

She was doing the exact thing she’d thought she never could.

Trying to be an attractive woman of social distinction—feminine.

Yet, a nagging feeling of self-betrayal gnawed at her. Was she not merely pretending to be someone she was not?

The notion of altering herself to secure a proposal seemed preposterous, especially given that at eight-and-twenty, society had all but declared her unmarriageable. Was she truly prepared to face her greatest fear, to attempt the very thing she had always dreaded?

Just so that she could connect with someone, when all her life she’d avoided emotional bonds.

“Do not fret,” whispered Patience as she stood next to Chastity while Mrs. Winston and her girls measured and pinned and discussed hems, types of stitches, hooks, and so on. “It was strange for me at first, too, to wear such fashionable gowns. But Lucien is right. You will look marvelous.”

It was three days later when Mrs. Winston came with the first three gowns. Mademoiselle Antoinette put Chastity’s hair in an elaborate chignon with pretty curls, and then Chastity put the first gown on.

She looked into the mirror.

No. She couldn’t possibly be the woman reflected there. Emerald silk made her skin glow, made her lips appear brighter and fuller, and made her eyes sparkle like the winter sky. She looked at least eight years younger, almost like a debutante before her first ball.

Mademoiselle Antoinette gasped and applauded, while Mrs. Winston fussed around her, attaching a gauze flower and sewing emerald lace on the bust, below the neckline.

“Oh, darling,” whispered Patience. “You look stunning!”

Words stuck in Chastity’s throat, and all she could do was swallow them. Something was trembling in her chest…her heart, perhaps. It was hard to tell with her body so numb.

She looked so much like Mama. She had been quite young when Mama was sent away, but she did remember her—dark haired and clear-eyed, breathtaking in her elegant, feminine gowns.

And always so, so, so very sad.

Chastity knew it was because of Papa. Because of their marriage. Because of his high expectations, not just towards Dorian as his heir, but towards his wife and daughter.

Her mama was a prisoner in a golden cage, a woman who was the property of her husband and lived to fulfill his demands. That was what a feminine woman was.

Someone’s property.

That was why Chastity had no desire to be feminine, to be attractive, to have a husband.

She reminded herself that she wouldn’t accept Lord Wardbury’s proposal, that this was only about winning the wager and hopefully gaining Lord Wardbury’s support for her research.

She would not actually marry him. Would not be his property or, God forbid, have any children!

She exhaled sharply, trying to alleviate the tension in her chest. She needed to calm herself. Simply because she resembled Mama, that didn’t mean she’d be imprisoned like Mama. She was only acting.

Being beautiful didn’t require giving up one’s own will.

She was still a scientist. She still had her research.

She would still have her freedom.

A knock at the door, followed by Lucien’s voice requesting entry, sent her heart racing.

Patience looked at her, her gaze holding a secret meaning Chastity couldn’t decipher. “You decide if you want him to come in.”

She nodded. “I’m fully dressed. You’re here. That can’t be inappropriate.”

“Of course. Come in!” she called.

The door opened and Lucien froze with his mouth open as he looked her over. He didn’t speak for several moments, and Mademoiselle Antoinette leaned over to Patience with a delighted expression. “I do not think I’ve ever seen a man to be as speechless as his grace.”

Chastity’s stomach flipped, as the adolescent she had once been finally saw the look she’d wished to see on Lucien’s face so many years ago. “Pray, speak,” Chastity said.

“Er—” Lucien finally closed his mouth, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. “Emerald is most befitting,” he said. “But I can’t wait to see yellow sapphire on you.”

“Yellow fabric has been ordered,” said Mrs. Winston. “It’s for the ball gown you wanted, Your Grace?”

“Yes,” said Lucien as he slowly walked towards Chastity, taking in every inch of her. “The gown for the grand ball to close the house party.”