Chapter 11 #2
Miss Theodosia laughed. “We do tend to be at odds with one another.”
“Perhaps it’s time we tried something else,” Richard said.
Her gaze turned curious. “What are you proposing?”
He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice quiet, as though sharing a confidence. “That we try to be friends.”
Miss Theodosia's brow lifted in skepticism. “Are you quite certain you wish to attempt such a feat? It sounds terribly ambitious.”
A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I am.”
She studied him, no doubt in an attempt to discern his sincerity. “Friendship requires effort. A degree of trust. And a willingness to withhold judgment from time to time.”
“I am aware,” he replied. “And I am willing.”
She hesitated for only a moment. “Very well. I am willing to give it a try… assuming you are in earnest and do not plan to revoke the offer the moment I say something impertinent.”
“I suppose I shall need to grow more tolerant of impertinence,” he said, softening his words with a smile.
“Then let us attempt to be friends. However, I must warn you that Olivia will be dreadfully disappointed. She thrives on our disagreements.”
“I tend to disappoint Olivia rather frequently,” he said with a shrug. “She’ll survive.” He extended an arm towards the corridor that led to the dining room. “After you, Miss Theodosia.”
She dipped her head in graceful acknowledgment and began walking. “Thank you, my lord,” she said over her shoulder, her voice warm with amusement.
And for the first time, he saw something extraordinary. Her smile lit up her features and it stirred something deep within him.
As he followed her down the corridor, Richard found himself troubled by his own impulsive offer.
He hadn’t planned to suggest friendship—hadn’t even considered it until the words had left his mouth.
It might have been an attempt to keep her near, to keep her cooperative…
but even as he told himself so, he knew it wasn’t the truth. Not entirely.
He was starting to enjoy her company far more than he should.
And that was not part of his plan.
Theodosia sat curled into the corner of the drawing room settee, the afternoon light streaming in through the windows as she turned the page of her book.
A slight rustle drew her gaze upward. Olivia, lounging in a nearby armchair, was staring at her with an almost mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Lowering the book to her lap, Theodosia tilted her head. “Is something amiss?”
Olivia shook her head, her smile deepening. “Not at all. I was merely watching you read.”
“You do realize how peculiar that sounds?”
“Oh, undoubtedly,” Olivia remarked. “But I find myself quite curious about what exactly is happening between you and my brother.”
Theodosia lifted a brow but remained composed. “We have agreed to attempt a friendship, nothing more.”
Olivia let out a thoughtful hum. “That is... interesting.”
Knowing her reading would not continue until the conversation had run its course, Theodosia sighed softly and set the book aside on the table. “And why, pray tell, is that interesting?”
“My brother is not exactly the friendly type,” Olivia explained. “He maintains a small group of friends—tolerates them, really—and he doesn’t take to people easily. Or at all, in most cases.”
Theodosia couldn’t help but grin. “I had rather suspected as much.”
Before Olivia could reply, the butler appeared at the doorway with a slight bow. “Madame Duchon has arrived and is setting up in the parlor.”
At once, Olivia leapt to her feet, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, splendid! I cannot wait to see what gowns she’s brought this time.”
Rising more slowly, Theodosia smoothed down the borrowed pale pink muslin she wore and gave a small smile. “It will be a relief to have a wardrobe of my own. Not that I haven’t appreciated your generosity, of course.”
“It’s truly no trouble,” Olivia said with a wave of her hand.
“You are kind to say so, but your brother did promise me a new wardrobe,” Theodosia reminded her.
“Then let us go spend my brother’s hard-earned money,” Olivia declared, looping her arm through Theodosia’s as they exited the drawing room.
As they strolled towards the parlor, they passed Lord Wilton’s study. Theodosia cast a fleeting glance through the open doorway. There he sat, hunched over a ledger, quill in hand, the furrow between his brows speaking to the weight of his thoughts.
“My brother works entirely too hard,” Olivia murmured.
“That is a commendable trait.”
“Perhaps,” Olivia said with a shrug, “but not if he ever hopes to find a wife.”
They entered the parlor, and Theodosia halted for a moment, taken aback by the flurry of activity.
Fabrics in every color imaginable lay draped across settees and chairs, and two young assistants flitted between the bolts.
At the center stood a woman with striking black hair, keen dark eyes, and a commanding presence.
“Lady Olivia,” the woman greeted, extending her arms. “I brought your gowns, as promised. I do hope you’ll find them satisfactory.”
Olivia made a delighted noise and reached for a maroon gown with a black overlay. “This is exquisite,” she declared, holding it up to her figure.
“I am pleased to hear it,” the woman said before turning to Theodosia with a knowing smile. “And you must be Miss Theodosia Smith.”
“I am,” she confirmed, stepping forward.
“I am Madame Duchon. I understand Lord Wilton has commissioned an entire wardrobe on your behalf.”
Theodosia gave a tentative nod. “Yes—if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
Madame Duchon let out an amused laugh. “Inconvenience? My dear girl, Lord Wilton is paying me handsomely for my time. It is no trouble at all.”
She stepped closer, appraising Theodosia from head to toe with a discerning eye. “You are a pretty little thing. Unmarried, I presume?”
“I am,” Theodosia replied.
“Then we shall favor soft hues—pale blues, blushes, creams. They will suit you beautifully. Have you been presented at Court?”
“Heavens, no,” Theodosia responded. “I am merely Lady Olivia’s companion. I’ve no ambition to be presented to the queen.”
“Well, I daresay you shall be the most fashionable companion the ton has ever seen,” Madame Duchon declared with a flourish.
“That really isn’t necessary—”
“Oh, but it is,” Olivia interjected. “I’ve no wish to be seen about Town with a dowdy companion.”
Madame Duchon beamed. “Then it’s settled. I shall begin with your measurements.”
An assistant stepped forward and handed her a long measuring tape. As Madame Duchon began her work, she kept up a pleasant stream of questions.
“Where do you hail from?”
“A small village in Sussex,” Theodosia answered.
“And how are you enjoying London?”
Theodosia attempted to quell her enthusiasm. “It’s all quite marvelous. I had no idea so many people could live in one place.”
Madame Duchon laughed. “The novelty does fade rather quickly, especially when the Thames begins to smell.”
“We’re going to Gunter’s this afternoon,” Olivia piped up from where she was comparing two silk sashes.
“A fine establishment,” the modiste remarked.
“It is,” Theodosia said. “Though this time, Lord Wilton will be joining us.”
Why had she said that? It was hardly worth mentioning. Yet she felt Olivia’s eyes land on her with amusement.
“I’ve been trying to coax my brother to accompany me for weeks,” Olivia said, lifting a brow. “But one polite invitation from you and he agrees.”
Theodosia’s cheeks flushed. “I merely asked. There was no persuasion involved.”
Mercifully, the subject dropped, and a more comfortable silence fell over the room as Madame Duchon continued taking measurements.
Once finished, she stepped back and gestured towards the bolts of fabric. “Would you like to examine the material I brought with me?”
Theodosia approached the settees, letting her fingertips glide over the fine muslin. “They’re so soft. So beautiful.”
“I only use the best,” Madame Duchon said, joining her. “Nothing less will do for a young lady’s first impression.”
Theodosia hesitated. “Are you sure that’s… wise?”
“I am,” the modiste replied with a confident nod. “I have an excellent team of seamstresses working night and day. With any luck, you’ll have the first gowns delivered tomorrow.”
“That sounds rather expensive,” Theodosia said, but then a voice spoke from the doorway.
“You needn’t concern yourself with the expense, Miss Theodosia,” Lord Wilton said, stepping into the room. “I gave my word.”
Madame Duchon dipped into a graceful curtsy. “My lord, a pleasure, as always.”
He inclined his head in polite acknowledgment. Olivia rushed to his side, a rich green gown draped over one arm.
“Look at this one,” she said. “Is it not the loveliest?”
He studied it for a moment, then replied dryly, “It is… certainly a gown.”
Olivia merely smiled. “Why do I even bother? You haven’t the faintest appreciation for fashion.”
“I never claimed to,” he said. “Are we to depart for Gunter’s now?”
“Just one more moment while I speak to Madame Duchon,” Olivia said over her shoulder, already turning back to the modiste with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. The two women fell into easy conversation, animatedly discussing sleeve lengths and hem embellishments.
As Olivia became engrossed, Lord Wilton stepped beside Theodosia. “Are these muslin fabrics to your liking?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the assortment with polite interest before settling on her.
“They are,” she replied, allowing her fingers to glide over the soft weave of an ivory muslin. “I’ve never seen anything so fine. The fabrics available in my village were more practical than pretty.”
“Then I’m pleased you’ll have the opportunity to wear something worthy of you.”
She turned her head, regarding him with playful suspicion. “Another compliment, Lord Wilton?” she asked lightly. “If you’re not careful, all this flattery might go to my head.”