Chapter 18
The next day, the morningpapers were filled with gossip about the Surry ball. Miss Darvey’s outburst had overshadowed even Lord Surry’s announcement about finding his long-lost granddaughter. Lydia was reading the latest in the dining room when Agnes entered.
“Good morning, my dear. I hope you slept well.”
“I did indeed.”
“What are the tattlemongers saying about Lord Surry’s announcement?”
“Actually, most of the gossip is about Miss Darvey’s behavior. Her outburst seems to have been most interesting to the gossip mills,” Lydia said, holding out a newspaper.
“Oh dear, I fear that won’t go away anytime soon. I sincerely doubt she’ll be able to secure a match this Season.”
“You could be right. Gentlemen don’t like to be caught up in a scandal, especially one with a hysterical female, as this paper describes Miss Darvey. Lady Knight must be mortified about her daughter’s behavior.”
Agnes sat down, and the footman poured her a cup of tea. “Thank you.”
“Shall I prepare a plate for you?” the footman asked.
She shook her head. “No. I shall have only tea and toast this morning.”
“There is a small article about Lord Surry’s announcement, and below it, George’s announcement of our betrothal.”
“Oh my, I see what you mean,” Agnes said as she read the most prominent articles. “Almost every story talks about Miss Darvey. Let’s hope she’ll recover her health in no time.”
“As do I,” Lydia said.
“After breakfast, I think a trip to see Mrs. Dumont is in order. I want to talk to her about adding a lace overlay to your wedding dress,” Agnes said.
“Really? Won’t that be too much?”
“Not at all. You’re going to be the Marchioness of Hutchinson, and you must look the part. All the eyes of thetonwill be watching you on your wedding day.”
“Oh dear, I hadn’t thought about that. I’d hoped for a small, intimate ceremony, not a big Society wedding at St. George’s.”
“Did you inform Lord Hutchinson of your wishes?”
Lydia shook her head. “No. When he said he’d inform the vicar about the reading of the banns, I assumed he’d choose our local parish instead of his.”
“Lord Hutchinson is proud to call you his betrothed—let him have his way in this.”
“Of course. All that matters to me is marrying the man I love. I can tolerate anything with him by my side.”
When they’d finished eating, Lydia and Agnes went to see the modiste. Mrs. Dumont came over to greet them when they walked into the shop. “Miss Weston, I read about your wonderful news, and I wish you happy. I shall be honored to dress the Marchioness of Hutchinson.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dumont. Lord Hutchinson and I are thrilled. The wedding will be in three weeks. Is that enough time to finish the dress we commissioned?”
“Absolutely. It won’t be a problem—I’ll put my best girls on it.”
“Mrs. Dumont, I think a lace overlay will complement the dress,” Agnes said. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I have the perfect Belgian lace. One moment while I get it.”
As they waited for the modiste to return, a number of ladies entered the shop. Lydia steeled herself for their disparaging remarks, but much to her surprise, all three of them wished her happy on her betrothal. Being a viscount’s granddaughter had certainly made a difference in how Society viewed her.
“Here it is,” Mrs. Dumont said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Lydia picked up the delicate lace. “Mrs. Dumont, it’s stunning. Thank you for recommending it.”
