Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

L avinia stared at the selection of dresses strewn over her bed and heaved a sigh. Now that she knew that her family was in financial straits, she understood why she had only been given enough for very few clothes for the season.

The knowledge did nothing to solve her problem though. The clothes should have been more than enough for one season but as it stood, she had worn and repeated most of them and soon, the members of the ton would begin to whisper about her being painfully unqualified to be duchess or worse, that she was a fortune hunter, eager to get her hands on his money because the Hartfield's didn't have two pennies to rub together between them.

With another sigh she dropped into the nearest chair, biting at her lips in thought.

She supposed that she could get the lady's maid to make some brilliant adjustments on some of the dresses to make them appear to be completely different ones.

Annoyed with her line of thoughts, she made to walk out of the room and ran right into her aunt.

"Oh I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" She said apologetically.

The woman rubbed her forehead where her niece's had bumped into hers, "Quite," she ran an accessing eye over her, "What has got you in such a conniption?"

"It's nothing," she replied with a stiff smile.

Lady Hartfield's gaze shifted to over her shoulder and immediately took note of the dresses littered about the bird, "What's going on here?"

"It's nothing at all," she hurried to say, but her aunt's narrowed eyes clearly said she didn't believe her.

"I am not going to stop asking so you may as well come out with it, Lavvie."

She scowled, hesitant to look ungrateful but she knew Lady Hartfield wouldn't accept anything but the entire truth. Her shoulder drooped with defeat.

"It seems that I'm about to run out of suitable clothes. I do not mean to be greedy or ungrateful. Nothing like that, I promise," the words tumbled out one after the other almost in one breath, "But I never expected to be out so much. Getting engaged was unexpected much less getting engaged to a Duke. And I-"

Her aunt raised a hand to stop her, "I completely understand, and I honestly feel silly for not realizing it earlier. I've just been so happy to see you out and about and enjoying the season that I did not think of your wardrobe."

"I can get some of my clothes worked on to make them look different."

Lady Hartfield shook her head sternly, "You will do no such thing."

"Well, what would you have me do?" She threw her hands up in the air.

"We are going to the modiste," Lady Hartfield said, "And now don't give me that look. You'll be a duchess soon and I will not have the entire ton looking down at you and seeing you as less than worthy to be with the Duke. I have a bit of money I managed to put aside."

"I cannot allow you-"

"I am not asking for your permission, Lavinia," she sniffed, "Get dressed, I'll have the footmen get the carriage ready."

With that, she whirled around and left, leaving Lavinia feeling both immensely grateful and guilty. She decided that she would swallow her pride and accept her aunt's generous offer, but she would pay her back every dime as soon as she became the duchess and got some pin money or stipend.

With her mind made up about that, she changed into a striped blue and grey dress, tied on her bonnet and left the house.

The carriage stopped at one of the cheaper dressmaker's shops and they alighted.

"I'm thinking one or two ball gowns and day dresses, a new glove perhaps," Lady Hartfield nodded, "We can add a-"

"Lady Hartfield, Miss Proctor," someone called.

The women turned to see the dowager duchess of Wyld standing at the end of the street, her lips pursed.

They exchanged a glance before moving towards her.

"Your Grace," they curtsied.

"I saw you headed toward that shop," the words were spat out of her mouth with mild disdain, "That will not do, Miss Proctor, unless you plan on completely embarrassing my son. What would people think if they walked in there and saw you rifling through cheap fabric and plain designs."

Lavinia exchanged another glance with her aunt, "I'm afraid, Your Grace, that that is all we can afford."

"For someone whom the ton has dubbed a fortune hunter, you are rather terrible at being one," the dowager duchess said, causing Lavinia's eyes to go comically wide, "Come along now, I booked the day with Madame Vandeleur and it's a good thing I did too."

They watched the woman walk away, head held high and spine straight as a ruler.

"Unless you plan on disobeying a direct order from your soon to be mother-in-law, let's go," Lady Hartfield said.

Shaking her head, she followed after her aunt.

The interior of the modiste shop looked like no other shop she had been in. It was very obvious that the place catered to people with much deeper pockets. The dowager Duchess had the position and money to not just shop at will from Madame Vandeleur, she could also book the shop for the whole day to avoid dealing with other people.

Madame Vandeleur was a very slender, pale woman with onyx dark hair tied into a severe bun at the base of her neck.

"This is Lady Hartfield and her niece, Miss Proctor," the dowager duchess announced as they stepped in, "Miss Proctor is to be married to my son."

Lavinia winced at the dowager duchess's tone that clearly implied what she thought about the match. Apparently, she didn't think much of it. At her side, her aunt stiffened and then squeezed her hand in support.

"Welcome," the modiste said in a deep French accent, "What would you like to get today?"

Lavinia opened her mouth to reply, but the dowager duchess beat her to it, "Three ball gowns, day dresses, riding garb and gloves."

At the younger woman's gaping look, she rolled her eyes, "Consider it an advance on your pin money. And if things do not work out between the both of you, then consider it a gift."

Lavinia shifted her shocked stare to the Frenchwoman who stood off to the side, nonplussed by the conversation.

The dowager waved her hand, "Do not worry about her. She's discreet."

"Well in that case," Lady Hartfield took her niece's hand, "I believe we will be leaving and you shall have to find some other people to belittle."

"Belittle? On the contrary, Lady Hartfield, what I'm doing is speaking my mind. So I shall be quite blunt with you, several people saw us walk in here together, if you insist on walking into that other shop, you may either ruin Madame Vandeleur's business or cause them to speculate that we are not on the good standing we have managed to convince them we are on."

"Take a seat, please," the modiste motioned to the sofa at the side.

The dowager's eyes narrowed at them, waiting to see what they would do. Lavinia knew she was right and it didn't matter that her opinion of them or rather her was poor, they couldn't afford to put the match between her and the Duke into more public scrutiny, especially as they had been doing so well in the public eye.

She gently urged her aunt into the seat.

Madame Vandeleur's assistants appeared one by one with bolts of fabric held out on their outstretched hands. With her aunt's help, she chose a few fabrics in pastel colors.

"Is that acceptable?" she asked the Frenchwoman when she stared at Lavinia's latest selection with her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"People who come to my shop, do not do so for the sake of playing it safe," she replied and walked away to bring more fabric.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

The woman stopped in her tracks and then turned around slowly, "Anyone can give you the pastels and the forgettable dresses. I prefer a challenge."

The dowager scoffed, "Do not encourage her. You shall only give the ton more reason to call her wild and unsuitable."

Lavinia had never met a challenge that she didn't want to face head on. Her stubborn streak was the sole reason she had caught the Duke's attention and was now well on her way to becoming his Duchess, so she was long past seeing it as a flaw.

She should want to please the dowager if she wanted any sort of peace in her future marriage. Being seen as unsuitable by the woman would not do at all.

But Victor hadn't chosen one a fragile flower, he had chosen her, knowing exactly who she was. Well, the dowager duchess was just going to have to try harder to get rid of her if she didn't think she passed muster.

"I would like to revise all my choices."

The shop went eerily quiet and her aunt bent to whisper furiously into her ear, "What do you think you are doing, young lady?"

"Giving that judgmental woman something to be appalled about," she whispered back, brown eyes bright and excited.

Lady Hartfield only let out a sigh and shook her head at the girl.

"Pardon?" the Frenchwoman asked.

"Do you have fabric in bolder colors? A navy blue perhaps?"

The woman's eyebrows went up, "I do. I also have a light shade of red that will be most excellent for you. Would you like to go through my latest catalog?"

The dowager spluttered, mouth dropping open in shock, "What do you think you're doing, girl?"

"You did say it was an advance on my pin money," Lavinia responded breezily, already headed deeper into the shop with the assistants in tow.

Her aunt, not wanting to be caught alone with the fuming dowager duchess hurried after her.

Neither of the shop's occupants saw a smile tug at the dowager's mouth a moment later.

Lavinia and Lady Hartfield arrived back at their house hours later, exhausted but satisfied. The Madame had promised that her clothes would be made a priority and would be ready in a week.

She had been able to leave the shop with a light yellow dress that appeared almost gold and trimmed with lace and hand beaded. It had been made for a lady whose family had had to flee the country hastily and adjusted to fit her.

"She detests me," Lavinia wailed as they stepped into the house.

"Who is that?" Lord Hartfield, who had just stepped out of his study, asked.

"The dowager duchess of Wyld," Lady Hartfield replied, "we had a very eventful day."

His gaze zeroed on the package in the footman's hand, "what is that? Did you go for some shopping?"

"Some light shopping," the older woman shrugged, "and then we ran into the duchess who all but insisted we join her in a more upscale establishment."

"She detests me," Lavinia reiterated.

"I do not believe the Duchess likes anyone in particular, except her late husband. She tolerates the rest of us," her uncle said.

"Go on up to your room and rest, my dear, you must be exhausted," her aunt said, "And do not worry yourself about the duchess. If she cannot see that you love the Duke and the pair of you are happy together, then she must be blind."

She tried not to wince at her aunt's words, instead, she pasted on a smile and hurried up the stairs before the Hartfield's could see through the strained smile.

Falling back into her bed, she lay there, staring up at the ceiling while her mind raced with thoughts.

She and the Duke were getting along, but was she foolish to be holding out hope for more? She refused to believe that a cordial friendship with no love or passion was as far as this thing between them would ever go.