Chapter 15
Fifteen
“Where were you last night?” Victoria asked, her voice low as they walked down the street toward the modiste, the Dowager Duchess trailing behind them.
“I was in the study looking for a book to read,” Isabelle said, guilt flooding through her when she failed to mention that Felix had also been there.
It would only cause scandal within the ton if anyone were to find out.
At breakfast she learned that the household staff were some of the worst gossips she would ever meet.
Their whispers never ceased. They were always speaking about some family or another in the ton and nothing they had to say was exceedingly kind.
Victoria sighed and let go of Isabelle’s arm to step through the door. “I know that the ton can be overwhelming, but you must do your best to keep your head up.”
“Oh,” a woman muttered as soon as Isabelle entered the modiste. She turned her nose up and looking disparagingly at Isabelle. “This must be the American I heard would be joining us for the season.”
Victoria nodded. “This is Miss Isabelle Alden, daughter of the Baron of Elington. She is with my family for the season.”
The woman scoffed, her gaze dragging up and down the dress Isabelle wore. “Best of luck finding a husband.”
Isabelle bit her tongue although she wanted to give the woman a piece of her mind. Allowing herself to speak freely in such an environment would only allow create more drama. She took a deep breath and smiled sweetly.
“I would be more worried about your own daughter finding a husband,” the Dowager Duchess said as she entered the modiste and stepped between Isabelle and Victoria. “You are trying to find Susanna a husband this year, are you not, Mrs. Goodham?”
“I am.” Mrs. Goodham gritted her teeth into some semblance of a smile before spinning on her heel and stalking to the other side of the shop.
The Dowager Duchess sighed and waved a hand toward the wall of fabrics. “Pick yourself out a fabric in a summer color. The theme of the first ball is wildflowers.”
For a brief moment all Isabelle could do was stare at the Dowager Duchess. She tried to form the words to thank her, but they wouldn’t come. Instead, her cheeks flooded with heat and her eyes pricked with tears.
Her kindness hadn’t been expected. Not after the dowager’s own comments.
“Thank you,” Isabelle said, her voice a soft whisper.
The Dowager Duchess gave her a smile and inclined her head to the fabrics. “Pick something you like.”
Isabelle forced a serene smile and studied the wall of fabrics. The soft linens had patterns varying from pale stripes to soft little flowers that had been hand-painted onto the fabric. She ran her fingers over the fabric, but she thought it might be too dramatic for one of the English balls.
It would be better to settle on one of the striped pieces. Perhaps the one with vertical pastel pink stripes on a cream background.
The Dowager Duchess stood beside her, hands clasped together. “That is a very nice one, but I think something like this is more your style.”
“Is it not too informal for a ball?” Isabelle asked, trailing her fingers over the painted peonies that looked like they were from a watercolor painting.
“You are an American.” The Dowager Duchess turned to her with a stern look.
“You will be judged no matter what you wear. I have heard of your arguments with my son, and I know that you wish to be seen for who you are. While I cannot condone that as the best method for finding a husband, I suspect you will not change no matter what I say. Therefore, it is better to be who you are.”
Isabelle eyed the duchess for a few long moments.
She uncertain what to think of the woman standing in front of her.
The Dowager Duchess coming to her defense had been shocking enough, but now she was encouraging her to pick the fabric she liked best and not what would be the most appealing to a prospective suitor or the ton.
“What if the front panel is made of this? The rest of the dress can be made of a plain eggshell color that matches the base of the floral fabric?”
The duchess nodded. “I think it would be a good way to honor yourself while trying to belong at the ball.”
“Will it truly be so horrible?”
The Dowager Duchess motioned the modiste over. “I doubt that it will be the last you hear of your life in America. In fact, I am sure you will face dozens of barbs, all of them designed to stick beneath your skin and make you self-conscious.”
“That is the game of the marriage mart, is it not?”
“It is.” The Dowager Duchess pointed out the bolts of fabric to the modiste before they were led to the dressing area where Isabelle’s measurements would be taken.
“Then I will have to hold my head high and get through the season without being an embarrassment to your family.”
“You will have a hard time doing that,” another woman said beneath her breath as they passed. “An American? Can you imagine? I would never allow my son to court one. They are barbaric. Simply beasts.”
Isabelle’s eyes stung with unshed tears but she kept her smile fastened in place. This was not the first time she had to face the comments of cruel women and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. However, keeping her chin up while she silently passed the woman was difficult.
I need to survive until the end of the season and then I may return to America.
Though that wasn’t quite what she wanted either.
“We shall have to prepare for supper soon,” Victoria said when they got back to the house later that afternoon. “The first ball isn’t for a week, but Stanford is arriving in the ton tonight and he always dines with us on his first night.”
Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief. “For a moment I thought you were going to say that Lord Milton would be dining with us.”
Victoria shuddered as they climbed the stairs. “I cannot stand that man. There is something unnerving about his manners and charm.”
“It is all too rehearsed.” Isabelle pushed open the door to her bedroom, once again falling silent at the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room. It was draped with a sheer canopy and crisp white linens that made her feel like she was sleeping in the clouds.
“That is precisely it. And it is as if he never means a word he says.” Victoria strode over to the white and gold vanity near the windows and sat on the tufted chair. “I hope you will not give so much as a mild thought to marrying him.”
“I should think that I would rather swim back to America before I lowered my standards enough to marry Lord Milton.” Isabelle giggled and sat on the chaise at the end of her bed. “I am serious though, Victoria. I will not marry.”
Victoria inspected the little bottles of perfume on the vanity. “I suspect you will find love when you are least looking for it.”
“And I suspect that I will not because I do not wish to find love. I am content being with myself. I like the life that I have.” Isabelle looked at the little morning table by the windows where they had taken breakfast together that morning.
“However, I do wish I had thought to bring my watercolors.”
“I shall speak to my brother and see if there are some paints he can get for you.”
Isabelle blushed and shook her head. “Please do not do that. I know you and your family are under financial constraints. My father sent me with enough pocket money to buy my own, I just need to know where the shop is.”
Victoria put the perfume bottle down. “Has Felix spoken to you about how dire our situation is? He does not speak to me about the numbers, but I thought he might discuss it with you after I told you about Father’s gambling debts.”
“He has said very little, although I have not pressed the matter either. It did not seem to be my place.”
“He would not utter a bad word against our father around us or anyone else for that matter,” Victoria said with a sad smile as she twisted to face Isabelle fully. “My father was a good man, but he had his vices.”
“Those vices have left your family in a terrible position.”
“I know. It will be hard to make my appearance in society with that black cloud hanging over my head.”
“Appearances are not everything.”
“No, but in order to find a good husband who is willing to provide for my sisters and I, those appearances are important.”
“That is why you are searching for a husband?”
Victoria nodded, looked down at the gloves on her hands, and took her time pulling them off. “If I can find a good match, then Evangeline and Hyacinth will not have to worry about marrying for money. I will always be able to take care of them if Felix is not able to save the duchy.”
Guilt gnawed deep in Isabelle’s stomach.
She had the power to save the family if she wanted.
All she needed to do was find a husband she would be able to tolerate for the next few decades.
Windham would receive the money and his shipping deal , along whatever else her father had promised in return for her marriage.
Isabelle decided that she would give the suitors a chance. It was the very least she could go for Victoria.
The thought of having to marry any one of those suitors was the only thing that gave her pause. It would be easy enough to entertain their flirting. She would dance with them at the balls and go walking with them in the mornings.
Marriage was another beast entirely.
“I believe that any man would be lucky to have you, but you should not have to marry for less than you deserve or desire.”
Victoria sighed, her shoulders slumping as she slouched and looked out the window at the rest of the ton.
“I have thought time and time again about what I would be willing to do to save my family. Each time I come to the answer that I would stop at nothing to ensure that they are cared for. If that means that I must marry a man for his money, then that is what I shall do.”
“Would Wi—His Grace want you to marry?”