Chapter 7

Sophia arrived in town early the next morning alongside the Duke and the Dowager. The trio entered the modiste’s shop where they were met with rows of silks and lace settled on the walls.

“I trust Madame Janice to sew you the finest gown in all of town,” Duchess Anna boasted as they waited for the modiste. “It is a good thing that Duncan could come with us as he has a say in the final selection as well.”

Duncan nodded. “I am afraid that I will not be able to stay for too long, however. You know that I have to head to the ministry to obtain the special license for the wedding.”

“Yes, yes, I am aware.” Duchess Anna waved her hand in the air, “But you must at least stay for the beginning to help choose the fabric and style.”

As Sophia listened to their conversation, the whole thing began to appear very real to her. Two weeks from now, she would have her wedding. The Duke had insisted on having the entire procedure expedited, and they had to make all the arrangements in a hurry.

It was a blessing that Duchess Anna was able to utilize her contacts in society. Otherwise, Sophia realized that planning a wedding in such a brief time period was an insurmountable challenge.

The modiste emerged from the backroom. She smiled at them.

“Ah, welcome. I have been expecting you for your appointment for your new gown,” she said, turning her attention to Sophia particularly. “Duchess Anna already briefed me on what requirements you may have, and I have prepared some designs for you.”

“Thank you, Madame,” Sophia smiled politely. “I would love to see what you have created for me.”

“I must tell you that Duchess Anna and my relationship goes far back. I have always wanted to design a gown for her future daughter-in-law, and now, the day has finally arrived,” the modiste gushed. “We can begin whenever you are ready.”

“Oh, my dear, the wedding is days away. We are as ready as we will ever be,” Duchess Anna laughed.

The modiste gestured for her seamstress to come and begin taking Sophia’s measurements.

“Then let us begin, shall we? We’ll create a gown that will undoubtedly be the talk of the ton, even though we do not have much time” The modiste’s voice was full of promise.

“Oh, I trust you entirely,” Duchess Anna gushed.

“Please, step on the platform, My Lady,” the seamstress said to Sophia.

Sophia nodded with a sense of anticipation and stepped onto the raised platform in the center of the room. The modiste and the seamstress began taking her measurements meticulously, noting down each inch in a small notebook.

“Since it is a traditional wedding gown, I would urge you to choose from our fine collection of silk,” the modiste continued as her assistant took further measurements. “It would have the grace and charm required, and I am sure that you will look like a vision.”

“Please, you must show us your selection,” Duchess Anna replied.

The modiste pulled out swatches of silk and lace. They were all different shades of white and had different patterns intricately carved upon them.

Duchess Anna nudged her son, directing his attention back to what was happening in front of him. “What do you say, my son? I would want to know what your opinion is.”

“You know, I am impartial to it all. Instead, you should be asking Lady Sophia for her opinion, for she is the one who would be donning the dress,” he replied casually.

“Oh, of course,” Duchess Anna said, a bit embarrassed, and then turned to Sophia. “What do you think, then?”

Sophia felt flattered that the Duke had considered her opinion to be the most important when it came to picking a dress. To her, that meant that he hada considerate nature and did not try to insert his authority into matters where it was not required.

“There are many options,” Sophia noted, running her hand across on the silk patches. It glided effortlessly under her hands, indicating the high thread count and top quality of the fabric.

“I believe that we can incorporate this delicate French lace for the bodice,” the modiste suggested. “I think it would do great for a touch of sophistication.”

“Ah, yes, that would be very nice,” Duchess Anna noted in appreciation. “I had something very similar for my own wedding. I have to tell you, my dress was the talk of the town for weeks afterwards!”

“I am certain that we can make something even better,” the modiste replied. “What do you say, Lady Sophia?”

“I think it is quite nice,” she replied.

“Now for the color…” The modiste held up several shades of white next to Sophia’s face. “You have a wonderful pale complexion, and I believe that a cream-colored gown would complement you best.”

“I agree,” the Duke interjected, causing Sophia to blush.

“I do not have a problem with it either,” she replied. “A cream color is fine by me.”

“Lovely, that is very lovely,” the modiste replied. “Now, we must talk about the finishing touches. A ribbon at the waist to cinch it in? It would accentuate your figure well.”

Sophia was getting overwhelmed with all of the options presented to her, so she decided to just trust the modiste as she clearly knew what she was talking about.

“Yes, yes. That is fine,” Sophia replied.

“Wonderful. I must say that, Duchess Anna, you have picked yourself a great daughter-in-law. She is not fussy in the slightest,” the modiste laughed.

“Well, it is my son who has picked her. I am merely adhering to his wishes,” Duchess Anna replied. “Though I do agree with you that she is not fussy. It is refreshing to see.”

The modiste gestured for the seamstress. “Could you bring in the dress I have prepared?”

Moments later, the seamstress emerged with a dress. She laid it across on the table for them to observe.

“So,I should tell you that I was told that Lady Sophia had some special… requirements, and I prepared some gloves to cater to them.”

The modiste’s eyes flickered over to the scars on Sophia’s hands, and she immediately felt self-conscious as a result.

“Would you like to try them on? I have crafted them from the finest cloth, and they will look elegant when paired with the dress.”

“Sure,” Sophia replied reluctantly and then slipped on the gloves. Her scars were hidden from plain sight, and the modiste clapped her hands together in a delighted manner.

“See? They fit just perfectly and will be a great compliment to the dress,” she gushed.

The Duke watched as the scene unfolded in front of him. He saw how Sophia’s face had fallen immediately, but she was far too polite to protest outright.

“And I have also thought of the perfect hairstyle. If we do an updo that makes part of your hair fall on the side, then it would hide the scars on your face perfectly as well,” the modiste recommended.

“If that is what you think is best…” Sophia muttered, looking at the ground now.

His mother turned to him and whispered in his ear, “It’s quite convenient that the gloves and hairstyle cover Lady Sophia’s scars, don’t you think?”

“Convenient? Mother, we’re not hiding anything. Lady Sophia’s scars are part of her, and they need not be concealed,” the Duke said in a loud voice, appalled by what was being discussed.

“Duncan, please lower your voice…”

“There is nothing to hide,” the Duke reiterated. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Sophia?”

Sophia opened her mouth to speak, but the Dowager answered on her behalf.

“It is a small compromise that I believe we should make. I think it is important that we do not give the ton more to gossip about than they already have. It is a smart decision to make choices that complement Sophia’s appearance. It is not hiding, rather, it is amplifying the features that she already has…”

The Duke felt a sense of disgust at how easily his mother was justifying hiding her scars. He could clearly see that Sophia was uncomfortable with this and did not want her to feel bad about herself, especially when it came to something that she had no control over.

“I believe that Lady Sophia should answer that question, for it is she who will be wearing the gown,” he stated firmly.

All eyes were on Sophia, now, waiting for her response. She shuffled her feet, gulping loudly.

“Well…” She glanced at the Dowager, “I… I agree with Duchess Anna. In society, appearances matter, and showing my scars might cause unnecessary gossip.”

The Duke felt disappointed by her answer. He stepped closer to her, hoping to convince her to change her mind.

“Lady Sophia, you don’t have to conform to society’s expectations. Your scars are a part of you, and they do not diminish your worth,” he said softly.

Sophia passed him a sad smile. “Your Grace, I really appreciate your concern, but your mother is right. Perhaps there are some conventions that we must follow. After all, it is expected that a duchess present her best self. If that means that I will have to hide away my scars, then so be it.”

The Dowager nodded eagerly. “That is indeed the smart thing to do, young lady. I am happy that you have come to that conclusion all on your own. Of course, the final decision will always be yours, but I hope you know that I am only looking out for you.”

“Are you only worried about the gossip?” Duncan refused to relent. “Surely, you must be used to it now. It is not something that you should be changing yourself for.”

“I am afraid that the gossip will not only affect me but you, too, Your Grace,” Sophia admitted. “It is my choice to wear the gloves.”

“My son, I think you should let the lady choose for herself,” the Dowager warned.

“Choose? It has been chosen for her,” the Duke exclaimed, upset. “If that is your choice, then I cannot say anything to change your mind. But if I were you, I would reconsider it entirely. I must go now as the ministry will get quite busy soon. I shall see you all later.”

Duncan practically stormed out of there, furious about what had happened.

He could see how skillfully his own mother had guilted Sophia into accepting something that she was initially unhappy about. The thought disturbed him greatly, and he did not think that a duchess should behave in that manner.

But at the end of the day, he knew that it was not his place to make decisions for Sophia. Even if she had done so under pressure, it was something that he needed to respect.

Once again, he found himself filled with scorn at how obsessed with outwards beauty society was. If anything, this whole experience was serving to increase his fondness for Lady Sophia’s scars.

They made her stand out from the ton and gave her a sense of individuality. They told her story which was unique to her, and no one could take that away as tragic as it had been.

Sophia was being unfair to herself, he realized. And the worst part was that his mother was complicit in making her feel that way.

They watched the Duke storm away, and the room was suddenly filled with an awkward tension. The modiste’s gaze darted between the Dowager and Sophia, unsure of what to say that would dispel the tension.

“You must excuse my son,” the Dowager sighed. “He has always considered himself above the gossip of the ton, but you must know that gossip impacts us ladies much more harshly than it ever will him.”

Sophia nodded, even though she still felt uncomfortable about the whole exchange.

“You do not need to explain yourself to me,” she replied. “I understand that you are coming from a place of concern.”

“Yes, and that is what my son does not see. There is a difference between the harsh judgements of society and mine. My judgment is only for your betterment,” she said. “You do understand that, right?”

Sophia nodded once again. Even though she did think that hiding her scars was humiliating, she did not want to stir up trouble by voicing her disapproval.

“And of course, I do not want to force anything upon you. It is merely a suggestion,” Duchess Anna added hastily, as though to make herself seem more sympathetic. “If you decide on the day of the wedding that you do not wish to wear the gloves or the hairstyle, then I will not hold it against you.”

“Thank you,” Sophia murmured. “Perhaps we should go back to measurements for now if that is okay with you?”

Sophia just wanted a hole to open up at the base of the earth for her to crawl inside of. She had not expected a fitting to be this embarrassing for her, and now, she wanted the entire thing to be over as soon as possible.

“Despite the scars, I do think that you are going to make a radiant bride,” the modiste said in consolation. “I am not saying that just to make you feel better, but I mean it.”

Sophia felt as though she was being subjected to pity now. She sighed to herself, “Is it all right if I take a moment to go to the ladies’ room?” she requested.

“Of course, it is right down the hall.”

Sophia sped away from the three ladies and locked herself away in the ladies’ room. Looking at herself in the mirror, she analyzed her scars and ran a finger over them.

A scarred bride. That was what she was going to be. It was the visual evidence of the curse that she carried with her wherever she went.

Sometimes, she wanted to claw at her scars and do away with them. A few years after the accident, her aunt had taken her to many physicians in London. They had all tried to fix the damaged skin, using a combination of herbal ointments, but because her wounds been so deep, they had left permanent scars that she had to carry now for the rest of her life.

“The skin is too damaged,” the physicians had told her. “We cannot do anything.”

As a result, Sophia had to develop thicker skin. But right now, she felt awful. She was reminded of what those ladies had said to her at the ball, and she wondered if there was going to be a repeat of that at her own wedding.

Wiping away a stray tear, she sucked in a deep breath and mustered up all the courage she had left to go back into the room and finish the fitting.

The sooner she got done with this, the better it would be.