Hugo bowed slightly. “As you wish, Grandmother. Lady Inverhall.”
He gave Elspeth an amused look, then exited the room, leaving her alone with his formidable grandmother.
Elspeth stared at the Dowager Duchess, momentarily struck dumb as she sank onto the settee. The older woman’s face still bore the unmistakable vestige of youth, the kind of beauty that did not fade so much as become refined with time.
High cheekbones lent her an air of aristocratic grace, while her eyes, startlingly clear and aquamarine, glimmered like sea glass in the morning light streaming through the window. Her white hair was drawn back with impeccable care, lending her an almost ethereal quality, as though she belonged to some otherworldly realm of elegance.
She wore a gown of soft lilac silk, perfectly tailored to flatter her slender figure—tasteful, refined, and wholly befitting a lady of her rank.
She was everything Elspeth had once imagined a true grand dame to be.
The Dowager Duchess turned her full attention to Elspeth, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, Lady Inverhall. Let us begin with a little interview, shall we? I need to gauge precisely how much work lies ahead. First, tell me, what is your opinion on the latest fashion from Paris?”
“Me opinion, Yer Grace, is that Parisian fashion is often impractical, uncomfortable, and designed more for display than for the comfort of the wearer,” Elspeth replied, more sharply than intended. But she was still smarting from Hugo’s departure, as well as the Dowager Duchess’s haughtiness. “I much prefer a practical dress.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed. A mostunconventionalopinion for a lady of your age. And what, pray tell, are your thoughts on the intricacies of the English social season? The dances, the calls, the endless small talk?”
“A tedious charade,” Elspeth declared, warming up to the subject as she realized how starved she had been for good conversation. “Designed to ensnare innocent lasses into marriages or social schemin’, rather than affection. Oh, and daenae get me started on the small talk! It is like wadin’ through mud, all politeness and no real substance.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes widened, a faint gasp escaping her lips. “Good heavens! You truly are a wild one, are you not? Despite your sharp tongue, I must say you intrigue me. Now, tell me, Lady Inverhall, do you often speak your mind so…bluntlyamid polite company?”
“Only when I believe it is necessary,” Elspeth retorted, a defiant spark in her emerald-green eyes. “Honesty, I believe, is a virtue that should be revered above all others.”
“A virtue, perhaps, but a social liability in London,” the Dowager Duchess countered, though a hint of something akin to admiration flickered in her gaze. “This is not the Highlands. Even so, you have potential, child. You are bright and beautiful despite the wiles of your curls. A fiery spirit, certainly. I feel that it just needs a bit of refinement.”
“And ye believe ye can refine the likes of me?” Elspeth challenged, crossing her arms in defiance. “I assure ye, Yer Grace, I am quite content as I am.”
The Dowager Duchess leaned forward, her expression serious. “You may scoff, Lady Inverhall, and you may act out as much as you like. That is your prerogative. But the simple truth is this: you are a young widow, with a questionable reputation, and without a powerful male protector. Youwillend up as a lord’s wife, whether you want to or not. You could suffer a far worse fate, you know.”
Just then, a maid entered with a pot of tea. She served Elspeth a cup, and Elspeth savored the hot bergamot liquid. The maid poured a second cup for the Dowager Duchess, then exited without a word.
“The question is,” the Dowager Duchess continued as she picked up her cup, “will it be a lord of your own choosing, one who might at least tolerate your unconventional nature, or will it be the most desperate and despicable fellow who will take you simply because no one else will?”
Elspeth’s shoulders slumped, and she set down her teacup. She pursed her lips, hating how utterly right the Dowager Duchess was. The stark reality of her situation, stripped bare of all romantic notions, was undeniable.
She sighed, a long, defeated sound. “Ye are right, Yer Grace,” she conceded. “I think I needed to hear that.”
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes softened. “Good, that is a proper start. Now that we have established that, we can truly begin. And we shall start with your posture.”
Elspeth groaned inwardly. Her mother had always chastised her for not keeping her shoulders back, especially when she was upset.
Oh, Maither, if ye could see me now…
“Stand up, child,” the Dowager Duchess instructed, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Shoulders back, chin up, spine straight. Imagine a string pulling you from the crown of your head.”
Elspeth stood up on command and tried. She walked about the room, humoring the Dowager Duchess, but after a few paces, she swayed, her shoulders hunching forward before she threw them back again.
“Like this?” she asked, feeling ridiculous.
The Dowager Duchess clicked her tongue. “No, not like that. You look as if you are about to collapse. You roll your shoulders so far back that you look like a lady of the night, child. Especially with your curves!”
“I cannae help the way I am shaped, Yer Grace,” Elspeth groaned.
“Enough excuses, child. Again. Shoulders back, Elspeth. Imagine you are carrying a basket of eggs on your head without spilling a single one. Why, imagine you are in the Highlands, walking about a farm!”
Elspeth swallowed her pride and tried again, her movements stiff and awkward as she tried to imagine a pile of eggs on top of her head. She wobbled as she turned around a table, nearly losing her balance.
The Dowager Duchess sighed dramatically and clicked her tongue.
