Page 40 of Duchess By Condition
“I thought I would get the modiste’s opinion,” Violet said. “But something in a lavender shade wouldn’t go amiss, I think.”
“What about this?” Georgina pulled out a bolt of fabric. Violet stared. It was a dark, garish purple that would have looked out of place in any room.
“I couldn’t wearthat,” she said. “Could you imagine the stares?”
“People looking at you might be a good thing.” Georgina was smiling. “They would be admiring your clothes.”
“No, they would be mocking me, if I was wearing that. I couldn’t possibly,” Violet said firmly. “Put it back. I don’t even want the modiste to see you touching that ghastly fabric and think it’s something I might take an interest in.”
“Well, what about this one?” Georgina selected another bold. This one was deep maroon, with purple fleur-de-lis. “I think it looks regal.”
“It looks like wallpaper, Georgina. It looks like what people might have worn decades ago. I couldn’t wear this in public, not even just to go to Agnes’ house. It would be ghastly.” She shook her head. “Don’t try to choose any more, I beg you.”
“You really ought to have a little more of an open mind,” Georgina said. “Do you want to go out wearing exactly the same thing as everyone else? You’d never be noticed that way.”
“I don’t wish to be noticed,” Violet said. “I’m just trying to get through this dinner party, and after that I’ll just be trying to get through whatever comes next. I have no desire to stand out, as you well know—though if I ever develop such a wish, I can assure you that you will be the very first person I come to, Georgina. You have a knack for spotting things that will make a person draw attention to herself.”
The two of them smiled at one another. Though Violet was sure Georgina really had liked the fabrics she’d picked—it hadn’t been meant as a jest—the conversation had been lighthearted and teasing, and the two of them bore each other no ill will because of it.
The modiste finished with her other customer and made her way over, and Violet turned toward her, reflecting as she did so that what she wore might not even matter. At the end of the day, the hardest part about any event she attended in the near future would be the simple fact that Jonathan would be there with her. And as of right now, she found it impossible to relax in his presence.
If only I could get away from him!
But even as she had the thought, she couldn’t be completely sure that getting away from Jonathan was what she wanted.
CHAPTER 22
Two days later, Violet found her new dresses laid out on her bed.
She thought about waiting to try them on. Perhaps it would be fun to do it tonight, when Georgina comes to help her get ready for bed. The two of them would be able to spend some time together, admiring each gown, deciding which one they liked the best—and, of course, there would be more teasing about the fabrics, for Georgina had been adamant about her distaste for the simple pale colors with embroidered flowers that Violet had picked out. “No one will sit up and pay attention to these,” she had insisted.
“And maybe I want to fit in,” Violet had retorted as she’d paid for her order. “Maybe I don’twantto be paid attention to.”
“I know that’s what you say about it,” Georgina agreed. “But I don’t believe it.”
“You think I’m being dishonest?”
“Only with yourself, my lady,” Georgina said, her voice gentle. “I think you yearn, deep down, for love. If you’ll forgive me.” Color had come into her face. “Perhaps I’ve overstepped.”
Violet hadn’t said anything more to Georgina then, for, of course, shehadoverstepped. But the trouble was, she had not been incorrect. There was a part of Violet that did yearn for love and connection, and she knew that ache had always been with her. She’d wished for her father to be more loving, even as she’d known that he never would. Now she had the possibility of a connection with Noah in her life, and it pained her to think that she might lose him.
She picked up one of the dresses—the lavender one, with yellow stitching, and her favorite of the new ones she had purchased. Maybe she would try it now. It might be fun to envision wearing it to a party without having to field Georgina’s comments about what gentlemen might think when they saw it.
Putting it on without help was difficult, but she managed, though it wasn’t laced up properly—at least, she didn’t think it was. It would fit her better when she had Georgina to help her. This was enough to give her the idea, though. She liked the contrast of the lavender with her dark blonde hair, and was it her imagination or did the gown make her eyes look bluer than they usually did? She stood in front of the looking glass, turning this way and that, admiring the effect.
And she thought about what Georgina had spoken about—the possibility of wearing this gown to a party.
Shedidlook good in it. She would be noticed, she thought—not in the way she would have if she had worn one of the garish fabrics Georgina had chosen for her, but in the way a gentleman might notice a flower and wish to pluck it. She turned to the side and looked over her shoulder, imagining being seen in profile like this, imagining a gentleman deciding she was lovely.
What she felt, more than anything else, was a sense of disinterest.
At first, that was comforting. It was familiar and safe. She had never been interested in courtship or in marriage, after all. Her recent thoughts of impending loneliness were all tied specifically to Noah—she had grown fond of him and didn’t want to lose him. That didn’t mean she had changed her opinion on wanting to marry, and it was refreshing, looking in the mirror now, to realize that that was true. If a gentleman asked her to dance, she would likely feel a sense of obligation to him. Or perhaps she would go along with it because the dance itself might be fun. She might be flattered to be chosen. But she would certainly not wish for anything more beyond the few minutes of the dance occurring.
She closed her eyes?—
Jonathan’s face appeared in her mind, and immediately, her heart beat faster.
She saw him holding out a hand to her. Leading her to the dance floor.
