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“They’re staring at West.” Belinda linked her arm through his. “The question on everyone’s lips is which heiress you’ll propose to. You must select a bride without delay, dear brother. I should like to continue in such finery.”
“Your wickedness has been forgiven and forgotten, brother,” Blanche said. “And the jilting has now become a mark in your favor. The papers are painting you as a duke wronged. It’s practically a matter of patriotism. Your jilting has elicited sympathy and warm sentiments in the breasts of beautiful ladies across the kingdom.”
“Miss Beaton, can you account for the vagaries of haute society? They think I’m wicked no longer.”
“I’m sure they couldn’t be more wrong,” she replied.
“Oh no, West has turned over a new leaf. He’s a new man.” Belinda led him toward the rows of silk and velvet fabrics. “Tell me, which heiress do you favor? Lady Winifred? Lady Gorham?”
“I shan’t know until I see what gifts they bring me today,” he said jokingly. “They’re courting me. One of the Miss Comstocks told me that my eyes were the color of delphiniums yesterday evening.”
Viola rolled her eyes. “As if you’re not conceited enough already,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What was that, Miss Beaton?” he asked, his voice rumbling with laughter.
“Ladies don’t court gentlemen, Your Grace.”
“Oh, but they do.”
“My goodness,” said Blanche. “Half thetonis here.”
“They must have seen Mr. Sutter’s advertisement inLa Belle Assembléethe same as we did—they’re here to purchase his fine silk velvets before the price goes up. Hurry, we must see if he has the pale peach hue I require.” Belinda dragged West toward the shimmering rows of fabrics.
Viola lingered on the edge of the room. She wasn’t shopping. Her serviceable gray gowns were all she required.
She watched as several lovely young ladies clustered around West, asking his opinion about the fabrics. They were openly courting him, just as he’d said. Of course, they were going about it all wrong. Viola knew how to court a scandalous duke.
It started with secret midnight kisses . . . and ended in . . . it didn’t end in anything. She wasn’t courting him. He wasn’t gazing tenderly at her.
Shop assistants unfurled bolts of shiny silk and lustrous silk velvet, splashing waves of color over the tables. The mélange of colors and textures was as disordered as her mind when she thought about West.
She smiled as his sisters piled his strong arms high with bales of fabric even though there were footmen nearby to carry the load. They did love teasing him. And he bore it all with admirable stoicism. Viola had to give him credit, he was behaving like an honorable gentleman.
She stiffened as Lady Winifred entered the shop, looking like an expensive confectionary in a cream-colored pelisse and pink-trimmed bonnet. Blanche immediately brought West to her and then left them alone, none too subtly.
Viola threaded her way behind the piles of fabric, moving closer to hear their conversation.
“Do you think I ought to purchase this dove-gray silk velvet?” Lady Winifred asked, running her gloved hand over a length of fabric.
“It would match your eyes.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?”
A male shop attendant approached Viola, looking dubiously at her simple pelisse and the worn hem of her gown. “May I help you, miss?”
“No thank you, I’m here in attendance on some ladies.”
“In that case, might I demonstrate some fabrics for you to show to them? This is the best silkvelvet and won’t be sold at this price for very much longer. See how it drapes softly?” He lifted a length of scarlet silk velvet. “It will make an elegant silhouette.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to point it out to my charges.”
He bowed and moved away, sensing that she wasn’t really the decision-maker of the party.
Drat. She’d missed the rest of West’s conversation with Lady Winifred. Now he was talking to twin sisters Eunice and Eugenie Comstock, nearly identical brunettes wearing matching yellow gowns.
“Your Grace,” one of them said. Viola couldn’t tell them apart. “We’re so very sorry about that awful Miss Chandler.”
“Yes, it was most shameful of her,” said the other. “What could restore your spirits?”
