Sarah MacLean: The Season

Alex pounced on this statement. "A masterpiece, Mother. I rather think we shouldn't fuss with such a tour de force, don't you?"

The duchess, ever a perfectionist, stood and walked a slow circle around her daughter, casting a critical eye at a seam here, a detail there. After what seemed like an eternity, she raised her gaze to meet Alex's. "You are lovely, Alexandra. You're going to set the ton on its ear."

Alex knew she'd won. Her face broke into a wide smile. "Well, with a mother like you, how could I not?"

The duchess chuckled at her daughter's blatant flattery. "Rather excessive, Alexandra. Off with you."

Alex clapped her hands and hopped down from the raised platform where she had been standing, throwing herself into the arms of her mother and planting a kiss on the duchess's cheek. "Thank you, Mama!" Alex bolted for the door, tossing back a complimentary, " Merci, Madame Fernaud ! The dress is just gorgeous! Oui, c'est magnifique ! Thank you!"

Behind her, Her Grace spoke to no one in particular. "What am I going to do with that girl?" If Madame Fernaud hadn't been caught up in her own indignant sputtering at the atrocious treatment her creation was suffering at the hands of Alexandra, she would have detected a hint of laughter in the duchess's voice.

Alex bounded down the wide staircase of Worthington House and skidded to a halt in front of the sitting room doors. Harquist; the long-suffering butler who had been with the Stafford family since Alex's grandfather held the dukedom, was standing at the ready. As Alex's heavy skirts swirled to a stop around her legs, he opened the door to let her into the room.

Casting a twinkling glance at the butler, Alex stiffened her spine and offered her most ladylike "Thank you, Harquist" in his direction as she exaggeratedly flounced into the room.

His somber "my lady" was still hanging in the air when two sets of giggles exploded from across the room. Alex's serious expression dissolved into a grin as she threw herself most indelicately onto the nearest chaise — across from her closest friends in the world, Ella and Vivi.

The three had been friends since birth. Their fathers' boyhood camaraderie had carried on into adulthood and fate had given them each a daughter, born in three consecutive weeks of the year. It was only logical that the girls would become friends, confidantes, and partners in crime.

Lady Vivian Markwell, the only daughter of the Marquess of Langford, was the eldest of the trio — tall and slender, with her father's dark hair and violet eyes, Vivi's beauty betrayed a sharp mind and a strong will also inherited from her father, who was not only wealthy and charming but also a national hero and a high-ranking member of the British War Office.

Vivi's mother had died when Vivi was only seven years old and her father had never remarried. Instead, he had poured his energy into raising Vivi and her twin brother, Sebastian. While Sebastian spent his days at Eton, studying to inherit his father's title and become a peer of the realm, Vivi had grown into a perfectly mannered, distractingly exotic beauty.

The youngest of the three by a mere five days was Lady Eleanor Redburn, the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Marlborough. Ella's delicate features and petite frame, combined with her corn-silk-blond hair and blue eyes, afforded her the exact features that most ladies of the ton would have sold their souls to have for themselves. Ella's personality defied her porcelain looks — she preferred books to balls and had even less interest than Alex in the trappings of London society. While Ella recognized and embraced the fact that her interests would likely leave her without a husband, Ella's mother was beside herself with horror at the prospect of such a life for her daughter. Not that such a reaction bothered Ella in the least... in fact, Alex had a sneaking suspicion that her friend considered irritating the countess an added bonus.

Vivi and Ella had been with Alex for every step of her life and she couldn't imagine a day without them. And, at that particular moment, she couldn't have been happier that they were there.

"I am thrilled to see you! You've saved me from history's longest dress fitting. What perfect timing!"

The girls cast sidelong glances at each other.

"That would explain your odd attire," Ella said drily.

Alex looked down at herself with a groan. "I was in such a hurry to get out of that room, I forgot that I was still wearing the gown." She sat up on the chaise and fluffed her skirts. "I’ll change in a bit. I'm not venturing back up there until Madame Fernaud has gone. She takes pleasure in my pain."

"Your mother will have fits if she finds you lying about in your coming-out gown," observed Vivi. "But since you're here... stand up so we can have a look at it."

Alex stood, curtsied, and twirled for her friends. Vivi smiled broadly. "It's beautiful, Alex. The color is perfect on you. Cruely or no, Madame Fernaud knows how to wield a needle."

Alex grimaced at the memory of the needle in question and spoke wryly. "Alas... if only she were as careful with skin as she is with silk." The girls shared a laugh — they'd all been on the receiving end of the modiste's needle — and Alex looked down at the dress she'd been wearing for most of the afternoon.

She had to admit that it was beautiful. A rich emerald silk, the perfect color to highlight her bronze complexion, green eyes, and auburn hair, the gown was perfectly fitted to her body from shoulders to neckline to waist — a style Alex had never been able to wear before, her age prohibiting her from donning something so revealing. At the waist, the dress fell in rich waves of luxurious fabric down to the floor. What made it truly remarkable, however, were the hundreds of tiny handmade rosebuds that were meticulously affixed to the fabric in a diagonal cascade. The flowers, in the same green silk, appeared sparingly at the top of the bodice and gradually spilled down the dress, increasing in number. The design played on Alex's uncommon tall ness, elongating her form and accentuating her height.

It really was a masterpiece.

Ella interrupted her study of the gown. "If you think you're going to be able to steer clear of marriage in that , you're sorely mistaken."

Alex cast a scowl at her friend. Ella never minced words. And she was almost always right. Unfortunately, this situation was no exception. The gown was designed for one reason only... to catch her a husband. For more than a year, her mother had been in a whirlwind of preparation for this, the spring of 1815, when Alex would turn seventeen and be "introduced" to the world. Not that she hadn't been introduced to the world for seventeen years. But this was different. This was her first season, when she would be paraded like a piece of horseflesh in front of every unattached male in London who happened to have a sizable inheritance and an acceptable title. Her mother's goal was to have Alex married off by autumn.

Did anything sound worse?

"I'm simply going to have to try not to do this dress justice." Alex's tone was filled with resolve. "My mother has her heart set on making my life as dull and boring as she possibly can. I mean... who on earth wants to end up married in Surrey? What a nightmare!" she said to no one in particular.

Ella leaned back against the soft upholstery of her chair and looked up at the ceiling with disdain. "No one. At least, no one with a mind to think for herself."

"My brothers are all years older than I am — does my mother pester them to settle down and get married?"

Vivi interrupted, "Yes."

"That's because my mother enjoys pestering her children. But they don't listen to her! The only reason they've agreed to attend any balls this year is because they want fodder with which to mock their little sister!"