CHAPTER ONE #3
Emily nodded at her grinning eighteen-year-old cousin. Her debutante Season might not have gone as well as she’d hoped, but she was determined to ensure Charlotte’s debut was everything she had hoped hers would be like.
It was the start of the Season, and her family was thrilled for Charlotte. Her brother had instructed that they secure the best of the best gowns for her as she prepared for her debut in society.
“I think we should get more options for her,” Emily said to the modiste. “Just to see what suits my cousin best.” She gestured to the gown. “This is quite lovely, and I’m sure we can find more options just as good, if not better.”
The modiste nodded. “Certainly. Miss Charlotte possesses an exquisite taste, as do you, Lady Emily. We’ll find her other gowns that are to both your liking.”
“Thank you,” Emily responded with a smile.
“Oh, I cannot thank you enough for this, Emily,” Charlotte said, throwing her arms around her cousin.
A startled laugh left Emily’s throat, and she embraced her back.
“You’ve been so helpful to me and I’m eternally grateful to you for it.
I’ve been beside myself, feeling like I must have swallowed a ball of nerves.
Having you here certainly calms me down. ”
“You have absolutely nothing to thank me for, Charlotte. You’re family. I’d do anything for you,” Emily assured her. “Plus, who doesn’t fancy a trip to the modiste?”
Charlotte laughed.
“I just hope I would remember all the steps from the dance lessons I took. I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s foot or make a fool of myself,” she expressed, nervousness creeping into her voice.
“You will be alright, my dear Charlotte,” Emily noted. “I have no doubt that you’ll captivate everyone in the room. Your debut will be everything you’ve dreamed of. You will be perfect.”
Charlotte gave her a grateful smile, hope filling her eyes.
They progressed on with sampling a few more gowns for Charlotte, varying their choices based on what accentuated or complemented her features.
A few people came into the shop while they went on, but it wasn’t until Lady Agatha Worthington and her daughter, Celia, walked in with a small group of ladies that the air shifted.
Emily groaned inwardly at the sight of them. She fought the urge to groan aloud when mother and daughter started in her direction.
“Lady Emily, a delight to see you this fine afternoon,” Lady Worthington said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Emily plastered a fake smile onto her face. “Lady Worthington, a pleasure it is.” She gestured a hand toward Charlotte. “May I present my cousin, Miss Charlotte Clifton.”
Charlotte curtsied.
Lady Worthington nodded, raking her eyes over Charlotte’s figure. Emily grimaced. No doubt Lady Worthington was looking for something to address that was out of her scope of business.
“How lovely to see you again, Miss Clifton,” Lady Worthington remarked. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Lady Celia Worthington.”
Celia curtsied and Emily gave a nod. She was over the pleasantries and now wished both ladies would go about their own way before they found something to turn into gossip.
Lady Agatha was a high society matron with an eye for mischief, an ear for scandal, and a tongue for rumour.
She was a veritable fountain of knowledge regarding the comings and goings of the ton, possessing an intimate acquaintance with the eligible ladies of the highest social standing.
A simple rumour from Agatha would shake the courts.
Her daughter, Celia, was her mother’s eyes and ears at social events, always fishing for and gathering gossip to return to her mother with.
They were one pair that Emily always avoided.
But if wishes were horses…
“I find it surprising to see you here, Lady Emily,” Lady Agatha declared with a snigger. “I mean, you couldn’t possibly have the intent to attend this Season’s marriage market, do you? Surely, you recognise by now how unlucky you are with prospects.”
Her words cut through like a knife coated with salt, stinging Emily’s internal wounds that were yet to fully heal. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she instinctively lowered her gaze.
“But certainly, do not lose hope. Although I doubt you would, seeing how ambitious you are,” Lady Agatha added, scoffing. “I’m sure there is a match out there for you. Hopefully, the modiste can produce a gown for you that would capture his attention.”
Emily’s eyes met hers.
“Perhaps this would be your lucky Season. The seventh time must be your charm.”
Emily pursed his lips together, and she wished so badly that she could reply to Lady Agatha with the truth of what she wanted to say.
Unclenching her jaw, she cleared her throat. “Charlotte would be debuting this Season. I am here to offer any assistance I can to her.”
Lady Agatha cackled, her eyes running over Charlotte once again. “Ah, right. That does seem right then. Well then, let me not get in your way. Take care, and may your day be most agreeable.”
Emily nodded respectfully. “As I hope yours is too.”