“We hoped for no less. May I ask the smallest of favors, my dear Madame?” Peter lowered his voice. “Have you any garment that might be quickly made over to fit Miss Jerningham? I am unable even to take my betrothed into the park for a drive. In fact, I ordered a closed carriage on the way to your establishment, as I am sure you will understand.”

“An excellent precaution. I doubt that I can help you in an immediate sense with much beyond a day dress or two, my dear monsieur. I am afraid that Miss Jerningham is a trifle, a trifle—”

To Gabby’s great pleasure, Madame Carême was interrupted before she could reveal the trifling problem that Gabby presented. The door swung open and in walked a gentlewoman accompanied by a maid.

“The Duchess of Gisle,” intoned the butler, in a satisfied sort of way.

Madame Carême turned in a flash. “Your Grace! I had no idea that you had returned to London!”

Peter also rushed to her side, exclaiming happily.

Gabby watched enviously. This duchess undoubtedly presented Madame Carême with no trifling problems. Her gown looked to be made out of handkerchief cloth, and it was abundantly clear that the duchess’s figure was as flawless as the rest of her.

Peter was chattering with greater animation than Gabby had ever seen on his face. She swallowed. Perhaps this beautiful duchess was the reason that Peter was reluctant to marry. Perhaps he was terribly in love with her and was even now pining away. They looked exquisite together—the duchess was just as polished and gleaming as was Peter. They would have had beautiful children.

And they seemed so intimate. Likely they were in love before the duchess was forced to marry another. Gabby had to blink away a sudden tear. How painful it must have been for Peter to watch his beloved marry someone else, probably an old, even a hunchbacked, duke!

Just as Gabby swallowed hard, imagining Peter’s agonized face during the wedding, the duchess walked up to greet her. Gabby’s romantic side had painted her in the last stages of grief, but common sense told her that the woman seemed to be glowing with happiness.

“How do you do?”

The duchess reached out her gloved hand, so Gabby took it, wondering whether she was supposed to shake it—or kiss it. She literally had no idea how one behaved toward duchesses. Perhaps she was supposed to curtsy? Finally she gave the duchess’s hand a brief shake and dropped it.

“This is my betrothed,” Peter was saying. “Miss Jerningham arrived from India only yesterday.”

Gabby could tell that it was hard for him to introduce her, presumably because of her gown.

But Her Grace seemed to notice nothing wrong.