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“Look at that beautiful emerald silk,” Sam’s friend, Evie, or more appropriately, Eabha Montgomery, the Duchess of Somerset, called to her across the room. “A pity I cannot order a gown of this color until I am wed. It is silly, don’t you think, that even the color of one’s wardrobe should be dictated by one’s marital status?”
Sam came closer to look at the shimmering silk her friend was holding in her hands.
“That’s a simple solution to a problem, wouldn’t you say, dear?” Lady Clydesdale asked gently. She was Evie’s distant cousin and was chaperoning them on this outing to a modiste before the season began. “Just marry and you’ll be able to wear whatever you want.”
Evie laughed and spread the fabric wider, holding it against her face. “Of course, if I were a man, I’d be free to choose whichever color I wish.” She let go of the silk with a sigh.
“It would perfectly bring out your eyes, Evie.” Sam smiled up at her friend, and Evie beamed right back.
This year would mark the sixth season since Sam and Evie had made their debuts.
Even though they’d both missed at least three years due to mourning, it was extremely hard to believe that a beauty like Evie was still on the marriage mart after all those years. She was not only beautiful, good-natured, and polite, she was also a duke’s granddaughter with an extremely large dowry. And now, she was a duchess in her own right. Hers was one of the extremely rare titles that had a clause allowing women to inherit the title, if only nominally.
Which meant that every fortune-hunting male in the country would be trying to woo Evie into marriage. Not that she wasn’t incomparable year in and year out without it. She had to beat her suitors with her slipper to get rid of them, so to speak, and yet season after season, she remained unwed. Because just like every Montgomery before her, she wished to marry for love.
Evie airily waved her hand at the subject. “It does sound rather simple, does it not?” she said, still sifting through the other fabrics. “Go off to the ball, meet a nice, young gentleman, fall in love, and voilà!” With the last word, she pulled out a bright cherry-red gauze and placed it against Sam’s neck. “You’re married.”
Both girls laughed, and from the corner of her eye, Sam saw Lady Clydesdale shake her head with a smile.
“It turns out that it’s a little more complicated than that, does it not?” Sam asked as she took the fabric from Evie’s hands and walked to the looking glass.
“You are lucky you can pull off colors like that,” Evie said with a pout. “With my hair, I cannot ever wear anything so bright.”
Sam looked pointedly at her friend’s bright red locks. “Dear, with your hair, you could wear a gown the color of manure, and nobody would notice.”
“Hopefully, I shall never have a reason to test your theory,” Evie said with a chuckle. “And I don’t know why love has to be complicated.” She returned to their previous topic of conversation. “It wasn’t for my parents, nor for my grandparents. Theirs was a love at first sight. It seems I am the only Montgomery who requires over one season to find a match.” She grimaced. “Or six.”
“Your grandfather was eight and twenty when he wed, wasn’t he?”
“Correct,” Evie answered wryly. “My grandmother wasn’t even a debutante. She was a chaperone at a house party and she managed to snag a duke.”
“And your father, was he about the same age as your grandfather when he wed?”
“Six and twenty if I remember correctly. But my mother was a debutante.”
“To be precise,” Evie’s cousin said as she leafed through the catalog with a bored expression on her face. “Both your father and grandfather were older than you when they wed. Andtheywere the Montgomerys; your mother and grandmother just married into the family.”
Evie’s lips parted slightly before she let out a laugh. “You don’t mean to say I am to wait until I am eight and twenty before I get to marry?” She threw a pin cushion at Lady Clydesdale in mock outrage.
Her cousin shrugged as she deflected the cushion. “If you’re comparing yourself to Montgomerys, might as well do it right.”
Sam crossed to her friend and put one arm around her shoulders. “Come, Lady Clydesdale, you’re not implying that her husband should be a debutante, are you?”
Evie’s shoulders shook with mirth, and she turned her laughing eyes at Sam. “Since I haven’t met him as of yet, it only stands to reason he is not yet out in society.”
All three of them burst into laughter, before Evie wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath, turning somber. “The truth is the Montgomerys before me weren’t even looking for love when they found it. And yet here I am, on the brink of a sixth season and nary a love match in sight.”
Sam turned away from her friend and resumed sifting through the different fabrics with a wistful sigh.
“Speaking of your marital problems,” Lady Clydesdale addressed Evie and put the catalog on the table. “I might have a solution.”
“You do? Don’t tell me you have a suitor up your sleeve?” Evie said with a chuckle.
“No, not exactly.” Lady Clydesdale shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “John is back from the army, and he is seeking a bride.”
“John?” Evie looked confused before her eyes widened in comprehension. “Your John?”
