Chapter 7
NEW GOWN
Days had passed, and the Duke hadn’t called upon her, but that was not alarming with the wedding coming up. It was not at all customary for the bride to see the groom before the wedding, and that was a good thing because Marigold was still recovering from what happened at the Serpentine.
It was almost all that she could think of, especially now that she didn’t have to worry about her debts or the collectors. She had all the free time in the world to ponder on that kiss.
It wasn’t the mere touching of their lips that had her reeling. For the record, though, those thick, luscious, and velvety lips against hers were enough to deprive her of sleep for several days. It was everything that came before.
The fact that he gave her agency, that he demanded to know what she truly wanted. And the one thing that she still had to decipher: the way her body reacted when he hummed ‘good girl‘ so close to her. Or she simply could blame everything on the dog.
Reluctantly, mainly because if she stayed alone any longer, she would keep entertaining those silly thoughts, Marigold made her way to the drawing room for breakfast. They had been having luscious breakfasts the past few days.
Not only did the Duke repay all of her debts, but he also paid the staff to come back with a full year of wages.
And most importantly, word got around that she was about to become a duchess, so credit was easier to obtain.
“Good morning!” Claire seemed to be in a better mood each day the wedding got closer. “Don’t you think it is absolutely marvelous that you are getting married right when the season is blooming? Imagine all the invitations I am going to get because of that.”
Marigold didn’t comment. It was the recurring theme of the past days for Claire to talk about how her life was going to become better. She took her place at the small table and served her tea.
“Marigold!” Claire said suddenly. “You are about to become a duchess. You should immediately fix your posture and appearance.”
Marigold looked up at her mother, who was looking down at her with disdain.
“You are now entering proper society, and you need to learn to carry yourself better and make sure not to spoil my good name.”
Marigold would have loved to clarify what kind of good name she was referring to, but she had decided to be patient for the few days remaining until the wedding. Then she would not have to endure this daily.
Claire was ready to share more of her insights regarding Marigold’s adequacy to become a duchess when Alfred entered, holding a big box.
Without even taking a second glance, Marigold knew it was from the Duke.
A black lacquered box with silver embossing and an expensive ribbon that cost more than the current gown she was wearing.
Before she even had the chance to take a second look at the box, Claire grabbed it and placed it on the big table.
“But this is from Madame Shantal, the French modiste who has taken Mayfair by storm!” Claire behaved as if this gift were for her.
Marigold took from Alfred the envelope that accompanied the box. She opened it, and there was a handwritten note.
“I am quite sure I got your measurements right. For tomorrow. B.R.”
While her mother was losing her mind over the luxurious box, she read the short note again and again. She was both shy and giddy because there was an open challenge in the way he said he got her measurements right after they had been really close.
“Let’s open it!” her mother said, ready to rip the ribbon open.
But this was the personal gift that the Duke had chosen for her, and she was not going to allow her mother to take this moment away from her.
So very lightly, she stood before the big table and grabbed the ribbon that her mother was ready to undo.
She opened the box, and her jaw almost dropped. She didn’t even dare touch the dress.
Without taking it out, she could see that it was made from silver-white silk.
It had soft pearl embroidery of winding floral designs with hand-sewn detailing.
The skirt had layers of gauze, and Marigold instantly fell in love with the moonlight tones that suited her more than pure white.
Her mind resonated how this all started in the middle of the night.
With trembling hands, she took the dress out of the box, and its beauty unraveled instantly.
It was by far the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen, let alone owned.
She knew that this was part of the performance, showing the world that the Duke was truly in love with her, dressing her in such an exquisite gown.
But still, of all the things that he could have chosen, he had ordered something perfectly fit for her.
“There is nothing else in here!” Claire’s voice cut through the moment. “Except for the wedding slippers.”
Marigold turned and saw that the dress had matching slippers made from the same silk fabric and pearls. A smile bloomed on her face. It wasn’t that she had any jewels to speak of or that she had ever dreamed she would, but pearls were her favorite.
“Surely this must be a mistake,” Claire said viciously. “Where is my gown?”
Marigold frowned upon hearing this demand. The groom was sometimes expected to gift his bride with her wedding gown, but why would he do so for his mother-in-law?
She decided to ignore her mother and enjoy the feel of the expensive lace through her fingers, letting them trace the pearls.
“I should have expected this quality from a duke who would marry someone like you,” Claire hissed.
Marigold looked upon her, clutching the precious gown against her chest as if she expected her own mother to snatch it from her.
“He’s such an uncultivated brute.”
“Mother!” Marigold protested.
It was one thing to hear her insult Marigold and another to hear such words spoken about the Duke.
“Am I not speaking the truth?” her mother demanded. “At every turn, he is determined to insult me, his own mother-in-law.”
“It seems to me that you haven’t realized what he has done for us,” Marigold said curtly and unforgivingly.
“Perhaps I should remind you how he paid off our debts and also paid the fare for my cousin to come back and take his rightful place and protect us. If anything, you should be grateful. In the future, I would be very mindful, if I were you, regarding the Duke.”
Marigold saw Claire’s blood rise in real time.
Her mother exhaled deeply through her nose like some mythical beast, lips puckered as she prepared to spew some insult.
Year after year, Marigold had watched her mother’s face put on this cruel mask every time she was preparing to attack, and her only defense was to ignore everything that came out of her mouth.
But this time, it was as if the silk gown held magical powers that infused her with the bravery she needed to cut her mother off before she spat her venom.
Marigold abandoned her crouching posture and rose to her full height, almost one head taller than her mother.
That shift alone took her mother by surprise, and for one precious moment, her mouth gaped open. That was all that Marigold needed.
“It seems to me that you didn’t take my advice,” Marigold said, “so this is a fine opportunity to inform you that all the dreams you have made of living in Verdant House and taking advantage of the vast fortune of the Duke were nothing but dreams.”
Claire stood stricken with disbelief. It was true that this might have been the first time Marigold had spoken to her with such determination.
“I heard your advice, Marigold, and I return it tenfold,” her mother said, finding her cruel self once more since it was her true nature. “Need I remind you who you are talking to? I am your mother.”
“And the Duke is about to be my husband, my family.”
“I am your family!”
“Not after I become a duchess.”
“Nothing changes the fact that I gave birth to you. You cannot get rid of me that easily.”
Marigold realized that sometimes her mother was like a leech holding on to her body, sucking her blood. The Duke’s words came forth when he asked her what she really wanted, encouraging her to be herself, recognizing that she was not some defenseless girl.
“You’re not coming to live with us in Verdant House,” Marigold announced with conviction.
Her mother stumbled back as if Marigold had struck her across the face. She took a shaky breath, lower lip trembling as she struggled to find the right words. Marigold was not prepared to allow her that.
“It will be my house and the Duke’s,” Marigold clartifed in case there was some misunderstanding. “You are welcome to visit, of course, but—”
“How kind of you to allow me visitation rights to my own daughter.”
“You being my mother is the only reason that the Duke is allowing your presence in Verdant House as a visitor at all.”
Claire audibly fumed in a very unladylike way. All her plans to lead a grand life at the expense of the Duke in his splendid manor collapsed like cards. Marigold felt empowered, finally speaking her mind, making a choice for herself, keeping something good selfishly to herself.
“The Duke has generously paid the staff in advance, so you will be comfortable for a while.”
“So you mean to leave me here alone in this wreck of a house while you’re enjoying yourself in your luxurious manor?”
“All I am saying is that I am moving to my husband’s estate, as is customary, leaving my childhood house to the state that my mother brought it to by spending the money that was supposed to go toward its renovation.”
Marigold was even prepared to catalog the whole ledger of expenses that Claire had made with the loan, only a fragment of which went to actual repairs. Claire was overcome with wrath, reaching a boiling point.
“Never in my life did I think that I raised such an ungrateful and disrespectful child.”
Years of conditioning flared Marigold’s instincts, and she curled her shoulders inward. Her fingers tightened around the silver silk gown. She was ready to apologize and lower her head. That fragment of hesitation was all that Claire needed, and she advanced like a predator smelling blood.
“How dare you speak to me in such a manner?” Her mother raised her voice sharply. “After everything I sacrificed for you. After everything I have been through. And now that you are moving ahead into the world with my help and blessing, you discard me like this.”
Marigold felt heat crawling up to her face. Her pulse hammered.
“Now that you gain access to station and wealth, you’re abandoning your own mother?”
You are my bride, and you are My Duchess. Not your mother. She is entitled to no demands and no privileges.
The Duke’s deep voice covered her mother’s shrill demands inside her mind. Somehow, that certainty poured warmth into her body, straightened her shoulders, and reminded her that there was one last announcement to make, and perhaps this would be a good moment to do it.
“And one last thing,” Marigold said. “If you have any misbeliefs about getting some kind of allowance from the Duke, I do hope you will be disillusioned soon.”
Marigold was expecting the volcanic explosion of rage, but all she got was the stunned face of someone who had just looked Medusa in the eyes. Claire was pinned to the ground, mouth half-open mid-sentence, eyes wide, breath completely caught.
“And now, if you would excuse me,” Marigold said with defiance, “I should like to try on my new gown and slippers.”
That was all Marigold said. She placed the gown back in the lavish box, took it by the ribbon, and made her way to her room with a soft smile on her lips.