Devil in Duchess's clothing

Chapter 3

Garrett stared at the woman before him. He tried to speak, he really did. But every time he opened his mouth, he was at a loss of what to say. It was as if his head was stuffed with wool and little else.

"My lord, shall we leave?" came her sweet voice.

He nodded and offered her his arm because that seemed like the the only thing he was capable of.

He lead Lady Gordon outside and helped her up the carriage before following her in. Garrett sat opposite to her and tried to calm himself.

He let his eyes roam her face and her form. Her hair, a rich brown the colour of chocolate was swept up and held in a way that went beyond his understanding. All he knew was that it suited her. And her eyes, jet black pools one could easily drown in. Her fair cheeks were slightly rounded, her lips plump. And her violet gown was practically sinful, it bordered on indecent. Maybe on some other woman it would've been perfectly respectable, but on this little devil.

Lord.

There was also a little mole that rested on the edge of her collar bone that had captured his fancy. He'd never seen it before as she'd only worn high collared gowns before him. But now that he'd seen it...

There was nothing special about it, it was just an innocuous little black dot. Why it drove him mad, he couldn't guess in a thousand years. He supposed it was this woman. Or rather, Devil. A she devil who had been sent to earth just to torment him in every way possible.

She looked a little uncertain. Garrett supposed he should say something. So finally, he settled on, "you look well." Which was an understatement of the century.

"Thank you, my lord. You do too," she replied almost bashfully. Garrett had forgotten that she was a human who felt human emotions. Somehow he couldn't associate the woman he'd come to know with shyness.

"You don't think it is too much? I haven't attended a ball in a long time and given that I should ideally be in mourning clothes—"

"It's not too much. And your clothes do not signify at the time of mourning, in my opinion. I have seen several widows carrying on affairs while they don mourning garb," Garrett said firmly.

"Be that as it may—"

"Lady Emma, when you mourn a person's death, you do it from your heart. Surely that person wouldn't want you to put your life on hold in such a fashion..." he said, gazing out of the carriage's window.

Garrett turned to find her staring at him, her mouth open, forming a little o.

"What is it?"

"Henry would often say the exact same thing. In fact he was very adamant that I do not don mourning  clothes after his death. But I rarely obeyed him even when he lived," she said a little sadly, a wistful smile gracing her lips.

Garrett didn't know why he felt annoyed upon being compared to the late Duke but he did. He just nodded, acknowledging her.

"I thought it would be appropriate if I came across as bold at best and scandalous as worst. We must sell this courtship convincingly if we're to succeed in helping her majesty," Lady Gordon said.

Garrett was at a loss again. He nodded again.

For all her sharp words and cool demeanour, Lady Gordon was not as she seemed, he realised. She seemed almost nervous now, as if she was unsure if she would succeed. And she was serious about her work. He respected that.

Although he was almost certain about what Victoria's misplaced anklet contained, he took his duty seriously as well.

The carriage rolled down to a stop then and Garrett descended and then helped the duchess down.

"Are you ready to take the ton by storm, your grace?" he looked at her.

"Of course," came her reply. Gone was the uncertain woman from the carriage. Now she looked like she could easily take down the Queen herself, should she wish it. Garrett was amazed. He smiled and lead her inside.

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Emma could only stare at the grandeur around her. The ballroom was decorated most beautifully and everyone around her was clothed in the most stylish of gowns and coats. She was in awe for she'd never seen such splendour before. She made an effort to look nonchalant but she doubted she succeeded.

She supposed that despite their differences, having Lord Beresford by her side did ease her nervousness a bit. That was if she didn't look at him. Because looking at him hurt. Physically. He was simply that handsome, Emma thought grudgingly.

"I suppose you may not know a lot of people here. So we shall start by introducing you to all the important nobs," he said from beside her.

Emma nodded.

"Will Lord Graves be in attendance, do you suppose?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"I do not know," he replied, looking at her carefully. "How do you know him?"

"He's just an old acquaintance," she replied tightly. Lord Beresford said nothing as he led her into the crowd.

And then the round of introductions began. Most people seemed eager to make her acquaintance and Emma treated everyone with the same cool grace. Several people asked her which noble family she came from to which Emma had replied with the truth...that she was the daughter of a vicar and had no noble blood in her body.

More than a few had seemed to lose interest in her after that. A fact that had seemed to displease Lord Beresford. Why, she didn't know.

For her part, Emma had already begun to ask about each person's relationship with their monarch as discreetly as possible. So far, she had learnt nothing that was relevant to her mission.

Lord Beresford, who had left her with some matrons to fetch her punch returned, his face cheery. But Emma could sense that something troubled him, his eyes searched hers as if trying to convey something.

"My lord, I feel a little suffocated. Will you please accompany me to the balcony for a spell?" she asked him.

"Of course, your grace," he replied.

"Oh Lady Gordon, you must come back soon...the dancing is about to start. Surely you wouldn't want to miss it," Lady Diana, the Viscountess of Argyll said to her.

Emma nodded and held onto Lord Beresford's arm. They walked towards the balcony where a cool breeze bathed her, dispelling some of her unease.

"What is wrong?" she asked her companion.

"How did you know something is wrong?"

"Is that important?"

"I suppose not," he sighed. "People have already begun to talk. I'm sorry, your grace, I tried to make everything smooth but they are talking."

"I suppose we have to begin our courtship then?"

"I'm afraid, yes. I can see why Victoria orchestrated things to be that way now...it seems to be the only way."

Emma said nothing and let her gaze sweep the empty balcony...her mind drifting. She knew she had nothing to lose, except perhaps her spotless reputation.

In retrospect, while her reputation did have its uses, it hadn't brought her any closer to her goal. So if she had to let go of it, she could live with it.

"Alright, my lord. I will keep my promise," she said to Lord Beresford.