The Plain Bride by Chasity Bowlin
CHAPTER TEN
Althea stood on a dais in the fitting room of Madame de Roussard’s, dressed in only her chemise and stays. She’d never been in a modiste’s shop before. She’d never actually had a garment made by a modiste. She’d sewn most of her own clothing, out of necessity, from patterns that were anything but fashionable. They’d never been anything but simple, serviceable, painfully modest garments.
“I think dark and rich colors for you,” the Countess of Winburne said.
“Oh, yes!” Bridget, the shopgirl, agreed. “And simple garments. No ruffles or flounces. Well-made and well-fitted but with a very daring décolletage.”
“Quite right,” the countess agreed. “Get the silks in sapphire, crimson, and apricot. I want the indigo muslin, the block-printed cotton in red and white, and whatever else catches your eye.”
“You cannot possible make so many dresses for me,” Althea protested. “I should never need so many.”
“My dear Lady Mayville,” the countess said, “I know you think so. But this is not Boston Spa. And, in society, you cannot be seen wearing the same gown more than once. We will be economical and make overdresses and spencers that will alter the look of your garments so that you may get multiple uses from them, but rest assured when I say that you will need far more dresses than you could ever imagine. There is one particular dress that is already made up that I think I shall send home with you. It will require some alteration but not very much. You will wear it for dinner tonight. You must trust me when I say this, it is black, but the velvet will look marvelous against your skin, and I think it will suit your coloring far better than you might realize.”
“I defer to your judgement, of course. I’ve no sense for fashion, as such a thing would never have been permitted to flourish in my father’s house.”
The countess frowned. “I know what it is to live in a house where one is not allowed to flourish. But I trust that Mayville is treating you well?”
“He is typically kind when in my presence, though that is rare. Most often, he is simply absent or indifferent,” Althea replied.
“And is that what you wish for from him? Indifference or kindness? What of passion or love? I understand your marriage began under somewhat unusual circumstances. That does not necessarily mean it should continue in that fashion.”
“It doesn’t matter what I wish. He has no desire for a wife, and whether I could be the sort of woman he desires or not, it does not change that he wants something very different for himself,” Althea protested.
“You will call me Sabine, and I shall call you Althea, and we shall be the best of friends. Female friendship is something I fear we are both lacking. And, in the spirit of friendship, I will tell you that I was very lucky to meet a man who knew precisely what he wanted, because, in my experience, very few of them do. Do not listen to what he says, Althea. Watch what he does. It will tell you much more about him than mere words ever could.”
Althea looked away. Because all she could think of was the way she’d felt when he’d touched her face so gently the last morning of their journey. She still didn’t know what had prompted it, and if Sabine was to be believed, perhaps he did not either. But those words had given her a traitorous hope, and she very much feared that would only lead her to bitter disappointment. It would be so much easier if he were truly a vile man. But, despite his drinking, despite the fact that she knew he gamed and wenched and fought numerous duels (moreso over cards than women), he wasn’t a man to be reviled. There were many layers to him, and he was far more complicated than she could ever have realized when she only thought him so handsome it had rendered her mute in his presence.
“Will you think about what I’ve said? Please?” Sabine asked.
Althea nodded. “I will consider it. But I think he may be very certain of his mind.”
“Time will tell, my dear. It always does.”
They’d beenat the club for most of the day. He’d fielded countless well-wishes, some genuine and others less so, for the better part of the day. As a rule, Mayville disliked having so many people know his business, but as there was little recourse, he simply had to weather it. Of course, it hadn’t all been convivial. There were those who held him in no small degree of contempt, those who had attempted to cheat him at cards or had attempted to cheat others in his presence. There was a great deal of resentment in those individuals, and they did not bother to hide their disdain. Luckily, however, neither his nor Althea’s names appeared on the betting book. Any wagers about the nature or duration of their marriage were held privately.
Returning to Gray’s home for their evening meal, Mayville was relieved to be finished with that chore. He’d gone, he’d confirmed, he’d endured the whispers and gossip, and now he could get on with the business at hand. He’d see his solicitor, make the necessary financial arrangements for Althea and any child they might have, consummate their marriage until such a time as she became with child, and then pack her off to some cozy, well-appointed estate in the south of England, where she could live in comfort and ease.
As they entered the house, the sound of feminine voices and soft laughter greeted them. “They appear to be getting on well enough,” he observed.
Gray shook his head. “How have you seduced so many women, when you clearly know nothing about them? Women only talk and laugh that way when they are talking about and laughing at us. You’re a bloody fool.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. The different between us, my friend, is that I never assumed we would not be the topic of both their conversation and their derision,” Mayville replied. “Shall we join them and curb their enjoyment at our expense?”
Gray gestured toward the drawing room door for Mayville to precede him. As they neared it, a footman stepped forward and opened the doors for them. Inside, the chatter and giggles immediately stopped. But as he entered the room, whatever snide comment had hovered on his lips faded into nothing. He was rendered quite speechless by the sight before him. Draped in a daring gown of black velvet, the neckline low and deep enough to reveal an ample amount of her generous bosom, Althea did not look like the woman he had married. She only slightly resembled the woman he’d seen leaving the White Hart in the morning before. This creature, with her artfully styled hair and fashionable dress, was a woman of beauty and mystery. Surely, he thought, clothes and a new hairstyle could not achieve so much!
“Doesn’t she look splendid?” Sabine asked. “I knew that gown would be lovely on her.”
Realizing that he’d been called upon to provide some sort of reply, Mayville managed to nod. “Yes. Yes, quite splendid. I hardly would have known you.”
“As you hardly know me, I can’t say that is a surprise,” Althea replied with a bit of cheek. It wasn’t mean, but it was certainly spirited.
“I believe the word you are looking for is touché, Mayville,” Gray quipped.
He didn’t care. The ribbing and good-natured teasing simply left him unfazed. The transformation in the woman who was now his wife—from dowdy spinster to sophisticated beauty—had left him so completely stunned that he didn’t have the ability to think of anything else.
As he looked at her, he became aware of the fact that she had no jewelry. There were no flashing gems or pearls at her ears. Her only ornamentation was a simple gold cross on a thin chain about her neck. He hadn’t even given her a ring, he realized. It was much worse than being remiss. His lack of attentiveness in that area was sending a very clear message to both Althea and everyone who encountered them that she wasn’t truly his bride. And while he might harbor that feeling, he would not see either of them humiliated by having the whole of society discussing it. If they were to go about amongst other members of the Ton and not have her be a laughingstock, it was a matter he would have to rectify.
The dinner gong sounded then, jarring him from his thoughts.
“Just in time,” Sabine said, sailing gracefully toward Gray, her skirts swishing slightly. She was all smiles for her husband.
Stepping forward, Mayville offered Althea his arm. “You do look lovely,” he offered. “Please do not take my faint praise for an accurate reflection of your appearance.”
“Sabine is magical. She can transform the proverbial sow’s ear into a silk purse after all, it would seem,” Althea remarked.
“Do not. Do not belittle yourself in that way. Her ability is to uncover a woman’s beauty, not to fabricate it. This gown did not make you beautiful. But it did strip away the layers you’ve been hiding under that I might see it.”
Her steps faltered, and she looked at him with such naked fear that it felt almost like a fist to the gut.
“Please do not say things to me that you do not mean. I am not part of this world, and I know that. Empty flattery may be considered polite conversation by ladies of your acquaintance—”
“Empty flattery is, quite often, meaningless conversation,” he agreed. “But I do not engage in either. If I say something to you, Thea, I mean it. I am not the sort to spare your feelings. Heaven knows that. I’ve been naught but a brute and a bore since the moment we were wed.”
“You haven’t only been a brute and a bore,” she replied softly. “You were also a bully. And sometimes—but only sometimes—you were even charming.”
He was still grinning when they made their way to the dining room to join Gray and Sabine. In fact, he was grinning so hard that he missed the knowing look which passed between the other couple.
