Page 35 of A Duchess for his Family

“And judging from your color, the letter contained something more interesting than an account of the weather.”

“It did not.”

Frances held out one hand. “Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Then read it.”

“I have already done so.”

“To yourself,” Frances said. “That hardly counts.”

Sophia moved the letter behind her back.

Emma, at least, possessed the kindness to conceal her amusement. “What did he say?”

Sophia hesitated. She could refuse to tell them. She could close the box, carry it upstairs, and insist that the entire matter concerned no one but herself. She looked at Frances’s expectant face and Emma’s patient one. There were battles a woman might win. This was not among them.

“He said he did not mean to imply that I required improvement,” Sophia admitted.

Emma’s eyes softened. “And?”

“And that he saw the gown and thought it would become me.”

Frances placed a hand over her heart. “How terribly inconsiderate of him.”

Sophia frowned. “Do not tease.”

“I am not teasing. A handsome duke thought of you while examining beautiful silk. It is a grave offense. We must alert Parliament.”

“Frances,” Emma murmured, though her smile betrayed her.

Sophia turned toward the window. “He has also opened an account for me with Madame Delacroix.”

There was a brief, remarkable silence. Then Frances seized Emma’s arm.

“Madame Delacroix?”

“I believe so.”

“You believe so?” Frances echoed. “Sophia, women wait months for appointments with Madame Delacroix! Lady Harbury offered her modiste twice the usual sum merely to copy one of her sleeves.”

“I do not require copied sleeves.”

“That is because you have never possessed the correct sleeve.”

Emma approached the box and lightly touched one of the embroidered leaves. “He has given you freedom to choose?”

“Entirely.”

“That was considerate.”

“It was excessive.”

“It may be both,” Emma allowed.

Sophia looked at her gratefully, only for Emma to add. “But the gown is still beautiful.”