Chapter Sixteen #2
Emilia chuckled as she stood from her chair, letting the ties of her dressing gown fall open.
She stood in front of the mirror while Sophie went to retrieve the ball gown.
She absentmindedly ran her hands down her side and over the silk shift that covered her hips.
She turned from side to side, her eyes closing briefly as she breathed in deeply.
Confidence shines brighter than beauty.
They were the same words her uncle had whispered into her ear as they entered every event during her first season.
At first, she thought it was to encourage her, but she quickly learned that was simply his way of reminding her she needed the former to compensate for her severe lack of the latter.
But in this moment, it was her lifeline.
She was a Duchess now. One that was about to walk into society for the first time on the arm of her husband—a man who possessed no flaws, physically or of character.
How would she ever survive this?
“Are you sure you do not want me to loosen your stays just a little bit, Your Grace?”
Emilia jumped in surprise at Sophie’s voice, but the young girl did not seem to notice as she pulled the dressing gown from Emilia’s shoulders. The fire in the room was blazing, but the cold air hit her bare arms with a start.
“You have such a beautiful figure, and the dress fits you like a glove,” Sophie continued, inspecting the ties of the torturous contraption in question. “It would be a shame if you were struggling to breathe unnecessarily.”
Emilia’s lips pursed. She wanted everything to be perfect, even down to the fall of her gown.
She had instructed Sophie to pull the stays as tight as they could go, and then pull them just a little more before tying them off.
It had only been a few minutes, and her ribs were already feeling bruised from the constant pressure.
If she did not allow herself the ability to take in more air, she would be the one at risk of fainting dead away.
Emilia nodded reluctantly. “You may loosen them.”
Her body relaxed immediately, her lungs taking in a breath the moment the ties were undone.
“Is this better?” Sophie asked, securing them more loosely than before.
Emilia nodded in relief, moving to step into the gown that was waiting for her. She couldn’t contain the small gasp that escaped her lips as the silky velvet slid up over her shoulders.
She was still unsure how Madame Sorel had managed such an exquisite gown in such a short time, or what kind of magic she had woven into its seams that almost made her feel like a true duchess the moment the final button was clasped.
The gown was made of a deep, garnet velvet that reminded Emilia of spilled wine. It was a striking contrast against her fair skin and highlighted the color of her hair in a way that made it seem more like a statement instead of a blazing distraction.
The high waistline sat just below her bust, and the perfectly tailored skirt flowed gently over her figure before settling into smooth folds at her feet.
The neckline was cut elegantly low in a square design, edged with gold embroidery.
The delicate leaf-like design trailed up the hem, as well as the edges of the sheer overskirt that was the same deep red as the base of the gown.
The sheer skirt split in the front, revealing the velvet underneath before sweeping back into a train.
Emilia twirled slowly in front of the mirror. Each layer caught the light differently, making the gown even more breathtaking when in motion. She could barely contain the smile that tugged at her lips as she took in her reflection.
Pride was a feeling better left buried, but she let it bloom just slightly on behalf of Sophie and Madam Sorel and the magic they had both performed.
“If I did not know myself,” Emilia said softly. “I would think I was a duchess.”
Sophie laughed as she tidied up the dressing table. Emilia took one last twirl in the mirror before giving a satisfied nod and turned towards the door.
“Oh, Your Grace!” Sophie called after her. “I forgot your necklace.”
Emilia’s hand fluttered to her neck, and her heart sank as her fingers brushed against the empty place where her heart-shaped locket used to lie. Even after two years, there were times she still expected to feel it there.
She turned her back so Sophie could fasten a golden necklace with red and yellow stones around her neck.
She didn’t ask where the maid had found it, she was beginning to realize that everything she would ever need, and most of what she did not realize she needed, had already been supplied and put into place at Nathaniel’s direction.
Hopefully, there would come a day when she felt more like his wife instead of another task on his long list of responsibilities to handle.
Emilia made her way down the hall to the front stairs and froze on the top step.
It was a simple thing really, walking down a staircase.
She had done it a thousand times before.
Not in a dress as grand or heavy as this one, but her feet should have known the pattern well enough.
Her hand gripped the banister, and she took in a deep breath as she forced one heeled slipper in front of the other.
The duke stood at the bottom of the staircase, half turned away from her as he leaned against the railing. His relaxed posture was a complete contrast to the flutter of nerves Emilia was feeling inside.
His glossy black hair shone in the candlelight; not a single strand dared stray from its meticulously chosen place.
The jacket of his black evening dress was tailored to perfection, accentuating his broad shoulders in a way that felt as though it had been made to highlight his strength just as much as his station.
He adjusted the cuff of his already pristine jacket, turning to instruct a waiting footman to check on the carriage. His voice held such a natural air of confidence and authority without the harshness of being commanding.
How was it possible that a man could be so effortlessly perfect? It was as though his entire life had been dedicated to learning how to hold his power gently instead of wielding it at every possible opportunity.
Her heart gave another unexpected flutter, and her foot slipped on the stairs. She gripped the banister to steady herself, but the sudden movement caught Nathaniel’s attention.
He turned towards her fully, and she caught the subtle flex of his jaw. His pale blue eyes were fixed on her, and somehow their crystal clear hue still managed to give nothing away, even as they slowly took in every inch of her appearance.
Her gaze dropped to her gown—the way the fabric fell as she descended the stairs made her skirts look like a rippling sea of wine as she moved.
The golden detailing woven into the hem and her hair had seemed entirely too much just moments ago, but now, standing here before the duke, it didn’t feel like nearly enough.
The realization settled heavily in her heart.
He had been born for this.
He belonged to a world of power, influence, and beauty; one that he maneuvered so flawlessly. The woman who stood by his side should be strong and sure enough to shoulder the weight of his title, and her own, without a single misstep—and Emilia could hardly manage a single set of stairs.
Her gaze lifted back up to his, hoping to find just a semblance of strength that she could borrow for the night, but he turned away from her as he pulled on his own crisp white gloves.
She took the final step, positioning herself in front of him, tilting her chin up high to meet his eyes. She had never been one to need other people’s praise or approval, but she suddenly found herself desperately wanting his.
She clasped her hands in front of her gently, careful to relax her shoulders so as not to wrinkle the fabric of her gown. She forced a smile.
Confidence shines brighter than beauty.
Nathaniel opened his mouth, and her heart waited in anticipation, but he closed it again silently. He cleared his throat as he offered her his arm.
“Are you ready?” He smiled, and Emilia tried to let the warmth of it soothe her injured pride.
She nodded. “As I will ever be.”
Nathaniel chuckled softly as he took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. He may not have found her beautiful or expressed his confidence in her ability to charm the Ton, but he was still kind and caring.
The feel of his arm beneath her hand, and the closeness of his far too familiar scent of spiced rum and citrus, warmed her from the inside out.
“If the evening becomes too much, let me know,” he said as they stepped out the door and into the cold evening air. Emilia felt a rare sense of irritation towards him rise up before she forced it down.
“I will be fine,” she stated.
“I know,” he turned towards her, his smile softening. “But I will gladly take any excuse to make an early exit.”
The carriage made its way around the circular drive, stopping at the bottom of the large stone stairs. As they began their descent, Nathaniel’s hold on Emilia’s arm tightened.
“Watch your step,” he said, leaning in closer. Her cheeks flushed, and she resisted the urge to pull back her arm simply to prove that she was capable of descending without misstep.