“You cannot go looking like that.”

Tabitha rolled her eyes at her best friend’s words. Matilda “Tillie” Andrews was the third child of one of England’s most successful export and import families and the two young women had known each other since Sir Elias began importing millinery supplies with Captain Maximus Andrews. She was currently perched on the edge of Tabitha’s work table.

Tillie, in her own right, was quite the seamstress and worked anonymously for a few of Cheapside’s finer fashion houses designing party dresses that had been the talk of the season the past two years. She did not need to work, not like Tabitha, but she loved it. Tabitha thought she might love her work more as well if she wasn’t scrimping and saving for each and every single penny she could get her fingers on.

“I have to go like this,” Tabitha said through a yawn. She had stayed up until sunrise finishing all of the Duchess’s ornamentation. On top of that, she had four other pieces to assemble to beat Ellora’s mid-morning arrival. She was exhausted and had unbecoming dark circles under her eyes, but she had finished with not a moment to spare.

“I have something I was going to show you,” Tillie said, pulling her bag out and unfurling a gorgeous walking dress in the deepest shade of emerald.

Tabitha’s mouth dropped open at the craftsmanship.

“Tillie,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

Her friend beamed.

“It’s for Rochester’s,” she said with a shrug. “It’s a sample, of course, but it does not need to be there for three days. So, you can wear it today and we will make sure you do not arrive on their doorstep looking like some sort of creature that crawled from the gutter.”

Tabitha frowned and looked down on her drab muslin gown. It wasn’t that bad, was it?

“What are you doing this morning?” Tabitha asked as Tillie pushed her behind the work curtain of the shop and practically forced her to change her dress.

“Nothing,” Tillie called. “Waiting for you to invite me along.”

Tabitha stuck her head out between the curtains and smiled.

“I assumed you would be too busy,” she said. “Would you like to go? It’s a bit of a walk.”

It was true. The townhouse owned by the Fairchild family was on the far side of town and not an easy walk.

“I have my father’s chaise,” Tillie replied. “I shall have our groom drive us.”

“You drove?” Tabitha asked, looking toward the window. “I didn’t see the carriage or the groom.”

Tillie shook her head.

“He’s getting himself something to eat a few streets away and watered the horses at Denton’s,” Tillie said. “Neither of us wanted to see your stepmother this morning, so we thought it best.”

It was a good idea, Tabitha mused, appreciative of how very smart her best friend was. Ellora, while somewhat polite to Tillie’s face, was an opportunist and cornered her friend for information about her eligible older brothers and cousins whenever she was around. Not that Tillie couldn’t handle her, but Tabitha shuddered at one of those poor Andrews boys getting shackled with a crow like Frances.

“Are you quite ready?” Tillie asked in a huff, never one for patience. “I am absolutely starving and I want to stop for the small cakes at Lodge and Stone. They’re my favorite, you know.”

Oh, yes. Tabitha knew. Tillie was a connoisseur of delicious food, though you wouldn’t be able to tell from the looks of her. She managed to maintain just the right curves in just the right places and was never shy about enjoying herself.

As well she should, Tabitha thought with a smile. Life was hard enough as it was, why not take a little joy where you could find it?

“I believe so,” Tabitha said, suddenly shy at the form-fitting walking dress. It hugged her small body in the right places, more so than any of her ordinary dresses. And the color—it made her violet eyes simply shine in the full-length mirror before her. There were buttons and ribbons accenting the dress perfectly—not too many and not too few. She looked polished. Poised. So far from the normal, bedraggled mess that she was most other days that she pinched her cheeks for a little dash of color and smiled at her reflection.

“It’s absolutely lovely,” Tabitha breathed as Tillie came to stand behind her. Tabitha studied the hat displays in the shop and moved toward the back to find the perfect bonnet to complete the look, large peacock plume and all. She set it on top of the tawny locks piled on top of her head.

“Now we are ready.”

Tabitha and Tillie left the shop and Tabitha locked the door behind her.

They walked the two long blocks to Denton’s, a stabling station for people who could afford it. When the carriage was ready, Tillie and Tabitha climbed in and enjoyed the long ride toward the grand manse of the former Duke of Stowe, His Grace, Lord Reginald Fairchild. Lord Reginald had died unexpectedly almost two years prior and his wife, Lady Gemma, was slowly coming back out into polite society. As such, she found her wardrobe to be a bit outdated and on a recommendation her lady’s maid had found her way into Tabitha’s shop for the first time two months ago for a simple hat, which had turned into the most recent repeat order.

Nearly an hour later, they rolled to a stop in front of the Fairchild home and Tabitha sucked a breath through her lips.

“Wow,” she said as Tillie giggled beside her.

“You have that right,” her friend replied.

The home was large, bedecked in white marble, and had four giant marble columns across the front of it. There was a small pond in the middle of the circle drive they took to reach the front door and Tabitha counted an army of gardeners toiling away in preparation for what was likely going to be a few days’ worth of guests and revelry.

When they were greeted by the doorman, Tabitha gave her name and asked for Mr. McEwan. They waited a few brief moments before the older gentleman appeared and showed them inside.

To say the inside matched the outside in grandeur was putting it lightly and it was all Tabitha could do not to let her mouth hang agog as they tried to keep pace with the steward.

“Very kind of you to make this happen, Miss Blackmore,” the man said as he practically sprinted with his short, quick strides down a long hallway toward the back of the house. They stayed with him as he turned down this hallway and that, past large, ornate doors, until they came to a corridor at the back of the home, where the doors were much simpler.

“There now,” he said, as he pushed the first door open to reveal a small office. “They are here, darling. Just like I said they would be.”

“Darling” turned out to be a smartly dressed woman with an ample bosom, bright cheeks, and kind green eyes. She looked to be somewhere in her 50s and from the warm smile she gave Mr. McEwan, Tabitha guess they were about to meet Mrs. McEwan.

“Miss Tabitha Blackmore and Miss— my apologies,” Mr. McEwan looked flustered as he glanced at Tillie, who whispered her name good naturedly to him. “Miss Matilda Andrews. This is my wife, Lorna McEwan, the housekeeper here. I leave you with her as we have quite a few preparations we are overseeing. His Grace is due to arrive at any moment.”

The steward flittered away, leaving Tabitha and Tillie standing in the doorway, feeling awkward. Lorna had a warm smile as she rounded the desk she’d been sitting behind and led them down the hall to what looked like a simple dining room housing a long table and chairs. She took some of the boxes from Tabitha and put them down on the table.

“I was looking over a few of the accounts for Her Grace,” the woman muttered in a thick brogue. “But now, this is exciting. This is one of her first hosted parties since Lord Reginald passed away and I know she is very nervous about the whole thing.”

Lorna began pulling the hats and fascinators from the box and tittering and clucking in appreciation.

“I knew you’d come through for us, Miss Blackmore,” she said, mostly to herself. “You came highly recommended from Baron Wellesley’s daughters and I knew you would provide the best for Her Grace.”

Tabitha blushed a little and Tillie pinched her lightly in the side at the compliments.

“Are you her assistant?” Lorna asked Tillie, who simply shook her head.

“She is a talented dressmaker,” Tabitha blurted out before she could think better of it. She heard Tillie gasp at her secret identity being outed so quickly, but Lorna didn’t look at all disapproving. In fact, she looked interested, so Tabitha pointed to the dress she was currently wearing.

“This is one of hers,” she said, proud of her friend. “It is going to be a sample at Rochester’s but she insisted I wear it to deliver these.”

Lorna gave the gown a steady gaze and smiled at her friend.

“You’re very talented, Miss.”

As Tillie was thanking her for the compliment, the door burst open with a train of three maids carrying two gowns each. Lorna instructed them to hang the dresses on hooks along one side of the wall.

Six exquisite gowns were suddenly on display and she watched as Tillie took them all in, silently regarding every last detail on each one.

Lorna stayed quiet a moment before speaking.

“So,” she prodded. “Professional opinion, ladies?”

With the hats on the table in front of the gowns, Tabitha realized what Lorna was asking. She wanted to know how they thought the gowns and the headwear matched up. As the last maid shut the door and left, Lorna looked to the ladies a second time.

“Well?”

After a moment of hesitation, both Tabitha and Tillie set upon the dresses and accessories, moving the feathers and ribbons around so that they paired up with the best gown. The housekeeper stepped back and watched as the two of them discussed ribbon shades and the texture of lace next to bright, fluffy feather plumes. When they were done, Lorna stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the ensembles they had put together with a smile on her face.

“Exquisite,” she said reverently. “Absolutely exquisite. Do you happen to be free over the next two days?”

She turned toward them as she asked.

Tabitha didn’t answer immediately, but Tillie did.

“I am supposed to leave with my mother in the morning for two weeks in Bath,” she said. “I’m actually running behind schedule as it is. We are dining with my uncle at his club in a few hours.”

Lorna turned to Tabitha.

“I am not sure,” she answered honestly. “I am not certain of what you are asking me right now?”

Lorna cast a glance toward the gowns.

“The next few weeks are important to Her Grace for many, many reasons,” she began. “First, she is venturing out of mourning and the eyes of her peers and contemporaries will be more than critical as she begins to immerse herself in the activities surrounding the season. I want her to shine, to put it bluntly, and none of her maids know a thing about dressing her to her station.”

Tabitha could understand that. A duchess was expected to have an air of regality that none beyond the royal family would possess.

“What’s more,” the woman continued. “Her son is expected to return this season and select a wife, so all eyes will be on His Grace as he moves through these parties and balls with an eye on the crowd for the next Duchess of Stowe.”

Tabitha had heard rumors of Nicholas Fairchild, the latest Duke of Stowe. He was rumored to be a good-looking man who’d run wild in his younger days as the privileged sons of the elite were wont to do. He had managed to leave for France last year without a scandal chasing him out of town and as far as she understood, there wasn’t one from the Continent chasing him back into town.

Either he was a well-behaved son of a duke or a very crafty duke who knew how to hide his indiscretions.

Whatever the case may be, as the daughter of a merchant baronet, the duke was so very far out of her realm that he might as well have existed in an alternate universe. Tabitha was a realist if nothing else, and spent very little time as a girl reading about white knights and rescues. She was a woman making plans to rescue herself.

“What I’m offering,” Lorna continued, pulling Tabitha back from her thoughts. “Is to pay for your services if you would agree to stay until tomorrow and make sure that the maids have Her Grace looking ravishing and heads above the rest. We need personal touches that it seems only the two of you can give. We shall pay you for your troubles. Handsomely.”

Well, that did it. Handsomely, from the family of a duke, usually did mean handsomely, and that was money she needed to fund her schooling in Paris.

“I can do it,” Tabitha said quickly, before she could change her mind. “I just need to send a message, letting my stepmother know I will no longer return until tomorrow evening.”

Crafting an expeditious white lie, Tabitha sent word to her stepmother that she was visiting with Tillie’s family for the evening and would be back for supper the following day.

The games were surely afoot now, Tabitha thought to herself as she allowed Lorna to show Tillie out and to lead her to her temporary rooms.

* * *

The Duke She Wished For is now available for purchase on , and is free to read through Kindle Unlimited.