Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Perhaps the green silk, Your Grace?” suggested Agnes, holding up the delicate fabric in her hands. Rachel had urgently requested her to assist her in preparing for the visit of the duke’s aunt.
Rachel turned, her gaze falling on the gown. “Perhaps it’s too bold.” She scrunched up her nose. “I do not wish to make such a strong statement on our first meeting.”
Agnes hummed thoughtfully and held up another dress. “Lilac, then. It would suit your complexion well.’
“Yes,” Rachel said after a moment’s pause. Lilac. Unimposing, blends into the background. “That would be better.”
Agnes smiled, moving swiftly to lay the gown across the bed. Meanwhile, Rachel began to brush through her hair. “Oh, but this is all so last minute. How am I meant to make a good impression when I have not even had the time to prepare properly?”
“Are you nervous, Your Grace?” Agnes asked gently.
More than I ought to be. “I just think that, given the duke’s aunt is the only family he has, she must be very important to him. And so, it is doubly important that I impress her tonight.”
“You are correct to assume that she must be important to him,” Agnes agreed. “But why do you assume that you have to change something about yourself to impress her, Your Grace? You are lovely as you are, and I am sure that Lady Jean will see you for it.”
Rachel could not let herself be soothed by the housekeeper’s words, even if she wished. “You say that because you wish me well, Agnes. But I do not know anything about her—not her temperament, nothing at all. Have you had the chance to ever meet her before?”
“A few times, yes,” Agnes nodded. “As has most of the staff at Everly. No one has ever had any complaints. In fact, she is quite warm and always concerned about the well-being of His Grace.”
Well-being of the duke. She must be quite protective of Simon, Rachel thought. Will I be able to meet her standards?
The thought made her feel dizzy.
“I am sure that it will be fine, Your Grace,” Agnes added, sensing the change in expression.
Rachel managed to nod. “Well, let us hope she sees something worth liking in me. I should hate to disappoint her.”
Agnes picked up a brush, beginning to arrange Rachel’s hair. “You’ve no reason to fret, Your Grace. Lady Linwood is bound to adore you. How could she not? You’ve already managed to impress the duke.”
Rachel snorted. “I doubt that very much.”
She had managed to annoy him, yes, but to impress would be a delusion entirely.
“Your Grace, must you judge yourself so harshly?” Agnes asked with an almost maternal edge to her words. “Lady Jean is your family now. She does not have any reason to find fault in you. If anything, she should welcome you.”
Rachel would be more inclined to listen to Agnes if the conditions under which their marriage was arranged had been more ideal. She felt herself growing red at the possibility of being asked, Why did you go about spreading rumors that my nephew was engaged to you?
Surely, the duke must have told her, given that the two of them were so close.
“Let me change into my dress,” Rachel sighed. She did not feel confident about the meeting in the slightest, but perhaps, if she changed her appearance, she could at least fake it.
Moments later, Rachel was ushered downstairs. As she stood in waiting, she smoothed the fabric of her dress, noticing the way that her fingers trembled slightly.
Calm yourself, she chided internally. Smile, be gracious. You are to meet her as the duchess.
The grand doors opened, and the butler stepped forward to greet the arriving guest. Rachel held her breath, straightened her posture, and prepared to meet the woman who, in all likelihood, knew Simon better than anyone else.
And then, the wait was over. Rachel heard the lively voice of an older woman echoing through the hallway. She was surprised by how full of warmth and enthusiasm it was. In her mind, Rachel had expected someone a lot more reserved—like the duke himself.
But Rachel barely had any time to ponder the thought further as Lady Linwood swept into the room, her sharp eyes immediately landing on the duchess.
“Oh, there she is!” Lady Linwood exclaimed, her arms outstretched as though she were greeting a long-lost relative.
She was a striking woman, despite her age, her silver hair pinned up in an elegant knot. Very well dressed, Rachel noted to herself, though the color choice was much bolder than what she knew other ladies of her age to wear.
In fact, it was the exact shade of green that Rachel had opted not to wear earlier.
“Lady Linwood, welcome to Everly Manor,” Rachel spoke, curtsying.
“Oh, none of that!” the woman said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her bracelets jangling with the movement. “Call me Jean, my dear. ‘Lady Linwood’ makes me sound like an old dowager, and I am far from that.”
Rachel looked over at Simon, who had trailed behind his aunt. Her eyes widened slightly as she found herself in a new debacle—one of not wanting to be disrespectful but also not to go against Lady Linwood’s wishes.
“She can call you Aunt Jean, perhaps,” Simon stepped in, sensing his wife’s internal struggle.
“Yes, Aunt Jean is fine,” the lady laughed. “It’s what Simon calls me.”
Rachel smiled, relaxing slightly. Perhaps she was not going to be such a misfit after all. “Then welcome, Aunt Jean. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Aunt Jean stepped closer, taking Rachel’s hands in hers and studying her with an almost comical intensity.
“My, my. Hold steady; let me look at you,” she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Aren’t you just lovely? Simon told me you were beautiful, but he was far too restrained in his description. You’re radiant.”
Rachel’s cheeks flushed, and she cast a glance at Simon, who seemed unfazed by the admission.
He had called me beautiful?
“I… Thank you, my lady,” Rachel spluttered awkwardly. “That is really quite kind of you.”
“Oh, there is really no need for such modesty, my dear,” she continued, now walking ahead of the two of them. Simon and Rachel followed her into the drawing room.
Aunt Jean was not shy about making herself at home, it seemed.
“In fact, when I was your age,” she said, sitting herself on one of the sofas and gesturing for Rachel to do the same.
“I was quite proud of my youthful looks. Oh, let me tell you, dear, I was quite the head turner in my day. I made no effort to be modest about it. In fact, it was rather fun making the other ladies jealous.”
“You are still beautiful, Aunt Jean,” Simon added, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“He flatters me,” Aunt Jean grinned, turning to Rachel. “Does he do the same to you? I’m sure he must.”
Rachel could only smile softly.
“I am sure that the duchess has no complaints,” Simon answered instead.
“Now that is what I mean by not being modest.” Her grin was wide. “You must inherit that from me, nephew.”
“I get all my best traits from you,” Simon said.
Rachel had never seen this side of Simon—and frankly, she was quite surprised that he was able to relax enough to be lighthearted like this.
It was sweet.
“But enough about me. The focus here must be on the new bride. I always knew that my nephew would surprise me when it came to marriage. It all happened in such a whirlwind, really. So quickly that I could not even make it to the wedding, which I deeply regret,” she said.
“No need to regret it, Aunt Jean. It is just as good to meet you now,” Rachel replied quickly.
“That it is, that it is,” she agreed. “But really, you must try and put yourself in my position for a moment. Imagine my surprise when I received a letter one morning from Simon, announcing that he had chosen a bride for himself and was set on marrying by the end of the week.”
So, he did not tell her about the rumors. Rachel found herself relieved at the thought. At least it was one less thing to worry about.
“Yes, well, it all happened rather quickly,” she conceded instead.
“As life often tends to,” Aunt Jean nodded. “In all my years, I have learned that you must expect the unexpected. Though—in this case, I am more than pleased. Simon seems to have chosen a lovely wife for himself.”
“Oh, you’re making her blush,” Simon chuckled, his gaze darting between her and his aunt.
“I am only stating the truth. You must get accustomed to receiving compliments, my dear,” the older woman advised her.
It occurred to her then that Rachel had never really been one to be on the receiving end of many compliments. Her life back home was actually the opposite. Taunts and jeers. Only reminders of how she was not good enough or a burden.
She must have paled slightly at the memory, for Aunt Jean immediately reached out to touch her hands.
“Are you feeling well, dear?” Concern was laced in her voice—but it felt genuine instead of superficial. “Have you come down with a fever?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, I’m perfectly all right.”
“No, no.” Aunt Jean stood up from her place. “I think you may be coming down with something. What you need is rest so that you can recuperate in time. I cannot risk you being sick later.”
Simon raised an eyebrow.
“What is later?”
“A ball at Bernight Estate. It would be the perfect opportunity to introduce you properly to the ton. Don’t you agree, Simon?”
Simon’s expression hardened slightly, his shoulders tensing at the mention of the ton. “I’m not sure that’s necessary,” he said.
“Nonsense,” Aunt Jean replied, waving away his protest. “You’ve been hiding away in this manor for far too long, Simon. And your lovely wife deserves to be seen. It’s high time the two of you made an appearance.”
Rachel glanced at Simon, unsure of how he should respond. He seemed torn, his jaw tightening as he considered his aunt’s suggestion. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking to Rachel. “If Rachel wishes to attend, then I’ll escort her.”