Page 9

E llen and Amelia entered the modiste’s shop and found the duchess already there looking through bolts of fabric.

“Oh, Your Grace, I’m so sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Ellen said, rushing over to her.

The Duchess of Warwick was turned out, as always, in the latest fashion in a peach gown that highlighted her beautiful rich brown hair, brought out the pink in her cheeks, and emphasized the green in her eyes. Even as the duchess turned a bright smile on them, Ellen immediately wondered if it wasn’t a color she should try herself.

“No! Not at all,” the duchess said. “Actually, I came a little early. Warwick dropped me off on his way to an appointment, and please, do call me Tina!”

Ellen relaxed a touch. “Tina, of course, and you must call me Ellen. And please, let me introduce my husband’s aunt—”

“Mrs. Amelia Rutledge,” Aunt Amelia said, reaching out a hand.

“What a pleasure, Mrs. Rutledge,” Tina said, taking her hand. “Are you here to help Ellen as well?”

“Well…”

“Aunt Amelia is in need of a few gowns herself. But, Tina, look at her dress. Do you see anything unusual about it?” Ellen asked, turning to Amelia.

Tina stood back and looked at it. “It’s quite pretty in a very simple way… and… there seems to be a lot of material in the skirt. Is that for a particular reason, Mrs. Rutledge?”

“I wondered whether you would spot it,” Ellen said with a little laugh. “I did not.”

Aunt Amelia pulled the sides out as she’d done with Ellen to show her split skirt.

“Oh, my goodness! How clever! You almost can’t tell,” Tina said, giving a little clap of her hands.

“Excellent for walking or riding astride,” Aunt Amelia said with a laugh.

“I can imagine. Are you looking to have something similar made here? I’m not sure they will—it’s quite scandalous,” Tina said with a giggle.

“Oh, no. I’ve got enough of these. I need something proper I can wear to a party. Now, mind, I don’t like all that frilly lace and flounces,” Aunt Amelia told her.

“No, I can imagine you’d like a simpler style, and for your age, that will be more appropriate anyway if you don’t mind my saying,” Tina commented.

“I don’t mind at all. I am an older woman and a widow. I just need one or two gowns that would be appropriate. You seem like a girl with good common sense,” Amelia announced.

Tina laughed. “Well, that’s what comes with having a background like mine. I was raised to serve the nobility not become a part of it. But, well, here I am, doing my best to fit in.”

“And you seem to be doing a fine job of it,” Amelia said. “Now, let’s get Ellen all straightened out first, and then we can worry about me. She’s a bit more difficult.”

Tina turned to Ellen. “Difficult? How so?”

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” Amelia said.

“Well, I do but…” Ellen started.

“But?” Tina asked.

Ellen took in a deep breath and tried to explain. “I want something demure but bold. I’d like to be fashionable but not draw attention. I want to be adventurous but…”

“I think I understand. I spoke with Diana and Lydia. They told me you were trying to be more outgoing, but you’d been in mourning for so long now, you might not remember exactly how to be,” Tina said kindly.

“I don’t know that I ever was,” Ellen admitted.

“You don’t want to be known as chicken-hearted, now do you?” Aunt Amelia asked.

“No, of course not, but—”

“I think we can find something for you—bold but not too outrageous. Come, let’s look at some styles,” Tina said, drawing them to a table where there were all sorts of magazines and fashion plates scattered around. They spent the next half hour discussing necklines, sleeves, trains, and waistlines and managed to come up with a few designs for both Ellen and Amelia. The proprietress had joined them, and they had quite a lovely time.

“That’s very impressive, Tina,” Amelia said, looking over the sketches Tina had made while they’d talked.

“I’m glad you’re happy with them. Now let’s discuss fabric,” Tina said, leading them over to where they began.

They found a beautiful green that was bold, but not too bold, and brought out the color of Ellen’s eyes. She also chose a cream silk and a dark pink cotton that would make a lovely carriage dress. Amelia found the dark colors she preferred, and they were both happy with their choices.

“We would like the first two evening gowns ready three days hence,” Tina told the modiste.

“Oh, won’t that be—” Ellen started.

“Not a problem at all, my lady,” the modiste assured her immediately. “As soon as I heard the duchess was coming, I brought in more help. I know Her Grace likes her gowns made well and quickly.”

“Excellent, Madam, I knew I could count on you. It’s why I never go anywhere else,” Tina said, giving the woman a smile.

“Hah! I know I only make about half of your gowns, Your Grace. You make the rest yourself, don’t you?” the woman asked with a warm smile.

Tina returned the smile. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted.

“I’m lucky she has me make as many as she does, I suppose,” the woman said to Ellen and Amelia.

“And I always bring you new customers,” Tina added.

“Indeed, you do, Your Grace, and for that I am extremely grateful.”

“So, three days?” Tina confirmed.

“We will do the final fitting for the first of the gowns ordered in three days,” the woman agreed.

~April 20~

Attending Lady Emmerton’s soirée shouldn’t have been a notable event. Ellen had been to many such parties—many more since she’d become a member of the Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society and actually had friends to meet at such events. Tonight should have been no different from any other night—only it was.

Not only was Aunt Amelia accompanying her, but both she and Ellen were wearing their new gowns which the modiste had, miraculously, finished in time.

“You look beautiful, Aunt Amelia!” Ellen said when she came down and found the older lady kicking back a glass of whisky in the drawing room.

“I can’t walk in this thing! She made it too tight,” Aunt Amelia complained. “Just look!” She took four long strides across the room deliberately stretching out her legs so they stretched the skirt out to its fullest.

“You look ridiculous walking that way. You know as well as I that you don’t normally take such long strides. No one does,” Ellen said with a laugh.

“Well, all right, I don’t normally, but what if I need to run? What then? I’ll be tied in knots by my skirt,” the woman retorted.

“Why ever would you need to run at a soirée?” Ellen asked.

Aunt Amelia opened her mouth but clearly didn’t have a forthcoming answer.

“Right. Well, if you should happen to make a run for it at any time during the evening, I would recommend lifting your skirts in order to do so. It won’t matter if anyone sees your legs. They’ll be too amazed to see an older lady running at all,” Ellen said, trying her hardest not to laugh again.

Her aunt had the grace to burst out laughing as well. “All right. I cannot argue with that one. Let’s get going and see what damage can be done, shall we?” She set her glass down firmly on the table and strode out the door. Ellen followed in her wake, certain this was going to be an interesting evening.

Upon arriving at Lady Emmerton’s soirée, Ellen immediately started toward the other ladies of the Wagering Whist Society, but Aunt Amelia pulled her to a halt.

“Just give me a moment before you go barreling off somewhere,” Amelia said, looking around the room and taking it all in.

It was strange, but Ellen hadn’t actually looked around the room herself. She supposed she was becoming a little jaded, or perhaps she was doing what she always did—keeping her head down and socializing only with her own friends. She supposed she had to stop doing that if she wanted to actually meet gentlemen and be more outgoing in general.

“Do you know it’s been over twenty years since I attended a soirée?” Amelia asked quietly. Ellen could barely hear her above the noise of so many people talking and an orchestra playing in the far corner of the room.

“Is it any different from the last time you did so?” Ellen asked, curious.

Amelia laughed and shook her head. “Not one bit. All right, then, let’s go meet your friends.”

Ellen led the way.

When she introduced Lady Blakemore and Lady Ayres, Aunt Amelia nodded and said, “Of course, I know these old-timers. You two were a few years younger than me, but I remember.”

“It is lovely to see you again, Mrs. Rutledge. I was so sorry to hear about the passing of your husband,” Lady Blakemore said, displaying her absolutely perfect manners, despite Aunt Amelia’s more forthright manner.

“Thank you. He was a good one. We had quite a life together,” Aunt Amelia said, showing a touch of nostalgia. “But… well, we go on don’t we?” she said, recovering quickly.

“Indeed. As we must,” Lady Blakemore agreed.

“Are you here just for the season, Mrs. Rutledge, or have you returned to England permanently?” Lady Ayres asked.

Aunt Amelia sighed. “I’d like to move back to America, but I’ve got some loose ends here I need to tie up first. We’ll see how long that takes.”

“Well, we shall enjoy your company while we have it,” Lady Blakemore said, giving her a smile. She was truly a kind and gentle lady.

“Good evening, ladies,” a tall, slender older gentleman said, joining them.

“Well, good evening to you, Mr. Sherman,” Aunt Amelia said. Ellen was amazed as she took in her aunt. One moment she was the same ordinary woman she’d met so many years ago, the next she was somehow completely different. Her eyes sparkled with interest. Her cheeks took on some pretty color. She smiled brightly. She even stood a little taller, throwing back her shoulders.

“Mr. Sherman, what a delightful surprise to see you here this evening. Is Miss Sherman with you?” Lady Blakemore asked.

“Yes, naturally. She’s gone off to meet her friends,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” Ellen said to the gentleman.

“Oh, allow me,” Aunt Amelia jumped in. “Mr. Sherman, this is my niece, er, my late nephew’s wife, Ellen, er, Lady Moreton.”

The gentleman gave her a bow. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Moreton. Did you say late nephew?” he clarified to Aunt Amelia.

“Yes, my husband died in the war,” Ellen said.

“I am so very sorry. You are much too young to be a widow,” Mr. Sherman said with a tsk of his tongue.

“Which is why Lady Moreton is turning over a new leaf this evening, aren’t you?” Lady Ayres said with meaning.

“Yes. Er, yes, I am. I have decided to be more outgoing. I have put off my mourning,” Ellen agreed.

“Which is why you should not be standing here with us, but perhaps with the younger ladies who are attracting the attention of a number of gentlemen,” Lady Blakemore said. She looked over to where Miss Benton, Miss Sherman, and Lady Welles were standing chatting with Mr. Hershawn and a few other gentlemen Ellen didn’t know.

“Yes, yes. Go on, now.” Aunt Amelia made a shooing motion. “I’m just fine here. You go and meet some nice young men.”

Ellen laughed, but it took a good deal of courage to join the younger ladies. She’d been keeping to the older ladies for so long now. It was safe with them. Very few gentlemen spoke with them, and they were able to simply chat and enjoy the evening. Now, however, she had to meet strangers—gentlemen. But this was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

Yes. Yes, it was, she firmly reminded herself. She emulated Aunt Amelia, threw back her shoulders, and joined the younger ladies.

Her friends cooed over her new gown, and she received a number of compliments from the gentlemen they were speaking with. Ellen felt a little overwhelmed and then rather shocked when one of the more flamboyant men, Sir Reggie, asked her to dance.

The gentleman was exhausting. He had her laughing just about the entire dance. He was so bright and outgoing, she found herself ready for a good, long break as he returned her to the side of the room where they had started.

“Thank you so much, Sir Reggie, for that dance. Your company is absolutely delightful,” Ellen said, giving him a smile. “I do think I shall go and refresh myself, however.”

“Of course, of course! Enjoy the rest of your evening, my lady.” He made her a grand leg, which had her giggling once again as she went off to find some refreshment. As she was heading in the direction of the dining room, she passed by the French doors leading out to garden and suddenly changed directions. The cool breeze drew her like a moth.

It was a beautiful evening, and the quiet of the garden was so enticing. She happily wandered the paths, hardly looking at where she was going but staring up at the stars instead. When she nearly ran into a pear tree, she thought that maybe it might be a better idea to simply stand still if she was going to be looking up.

A cool wind was blowing hard enough to set the petals of the tree dancing on the breeze. It was, without a doubt, the loveliest evening.