The Soulless Duchess

Chapter 8

“I am Morganne, the designer of La Beauté boutique. Nice to meet you. I opened up the shop fairly recently, so I can’t afford a clerk yet. Could you keep it a secret? People might talk if they think I can’t afford help.”

“Of course.” Yvona didn’t want to make trouble for a designer who made such a beautiful dress.

Morganne thanked her with a smile.

The dress that was on display was not Yvona’s size, so she tried it on to have it tailored.

Wow...

The dress looked great. It was even better than it looked on the dress form. Her straight, dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, and the color of the dress brought out her eyes and made them shine.

For the first time in her life, Yvona felt like she didn’t look so drab. She couldn’t believe that one dress could make this much of a difference.

But now that she was dressed up, she noticed one big hang-up: My makeup looks wrong.

The maids did her makeup back home, while other young ladies had people on staff who had specialized training in cosmetics. Some even hired makeup artists.

But Yvona couldn’t afford that. She had barely enough for the dress as it was. She had no choice.

“This is a lovely dress. I’ll take it.”

“Thank you. And by the way...” Morganne, who had been speaking ceaselessly about the dress and the adjustments, suddenly trailed off.

“Is there something you wanted to say?”

“If I may, might I make a suggestion about your makeup, my lady?”

“My makeup?”

“I assume the makeup you have on right now was done by your maid, but they are not professionals. They don’t have an eye for it. All they can do is copy what others are doing these days. And your makeup is indeed in fashion amongst society ladies these days, but...”

Yvona noticed that Morganne’s eyes were lit up with excitement.

“Lady Julia Keldern, with red hair and intense blue eyes, started this trend. But you have dark brown hair. You also have blue eyes, but yours have a bit of grey in them. So her makeup does not suit you.”

Yvona agreed. Her makeup was a step up from no makeup at all, but it certainly didn’t bring out her features.

“My features are far from distinctive. It isn’t the kind of face one notices right away.”

“But that is definitely not a bad thing. You have a quiet elegance that Lady Julia Keldern does not.”

“I do?”

“You don’t have the big features that are in fashion these days, and that isn’t a bad thing. Some people have faces that shine like the sun, while others have faces that radiate a gentle light like the moon. If it’s all right with you, could I help you with your makeup?”

“Oh… I appreciate your advice, but I’d rather not.”

This was a dressmaker who designed a dress that suited Yvona perfectly; she had no doubt that Morganne was being truthful about her makeup and not just trying to make a sale. But Yvona had to decline as she could not afford it.

Morganne seemed to sense this and put on a warm smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t charge you for it. I am quite proud of my aesthetic sensibilities, but design is all I can do. My skills fall far short of a professional makeup artist, although I think I’ll be slightly better than the chambermaid who is preoccupied as it is with other chores around the house.”

Yvona paused for a moment.

Since her return to the past, she had avoided forming close bonds with people. Truth be told, she took to Morganne right away, as she was talented and amiable. Most young ladies quite depended on their dressmakers.

Yvona feared that she might come to depend on Morganne as well.

She didn’t want to become close to anyone. What seemed to others as a small gesture came across as a big favor to Yvona. She didn’t want to owe something she had no hope of repaying.

“It’s quite all right, but I do appreciate your advice.”

“Makeup is just my hobby. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Morganne badly wanted Yvona to accept her help. All dressmakers dreamed of that day a design of their creation would take society by storm.

Morganne was no different. She was consequently very moved when the young lady asked to see the dresses on the second floor and picked out the exact dress Morganne thought would suit her.

Morganne was thrilled that this customer knew what looked good on her. She had a good eye and a mind of her own that would allow her to choose the right dress instead of going with whatever was in fashion. It was as if the dress was made for her.

There is such a fine line between drab and classically elegant. I can’t imagine there’s anyone else who can pull off that dress like she can.

Morganne could just imagine the response she would get if she dressed this young lady, made her up perfectly, and sent her to the ball. Knowing this, she continued to persuade Yvona.

The makeup style in fashion that brightened up a young lady’s countenance tended to throw off the balance for her. The color palette was completely wrong, too.

But no matter how Morganne implored, Yvona firmly declined. Morganne had no choice but to drop the matter.

Morganne was very sorry to see her go. She wondered if she would ever come across another customer like her.

***

The ball on the Festival of Iphelia’s eve arrived at last.

Yvona headed to the imperial palace alone without letting Gaspar know.

She was on a mission to propose to a man; she didn’t need another man hanging off her arm.

Under any other circumstances, Gaspar would’ve declined to attend a ball honoring his rival Lord Claude even if Yvona begged, but he might have said yes because he felt he was on thin ice with her these days.

Yvona asked her lady’s maid Sally to cover for her.

I asked her to keep anybody from coming to my room and to turn them away with the excuse that I wasn’t feeling well... I hope no one finds out.

Yvona arrived at the ball to find guests exchanging pleasantries amongst themselves. People were catching up, courting one another, twirling with their dance partners, and engaged in serious conversation off in the corner.

People. Ever more people.

The ball was exceptionally bustling as it coincided with the Festival of Iphelia. In the crowd, Yvona spotted Lord Claude right away—cool gray eyes, carefully chiseled features, great stature, and broad shoulders.

He seemed aloof as all eyes in the ballroom studied him. He stood unsmiling in the midst of the sea of people, making no attempt to be cordial. The man had the air of an expertly sharpened blade.

Lord Claude Azentine was just as Yvona remembered.

I would have spotted him right away even if I hadn’t remembered him. Look how striking he is.

Indeed, Claude had a very conspicuous presence. His extraordinary looks and superior physique aside, there was something overpowering about him. It was as if the air flowing around him was different from anywhere else.

“I don’t know where Parama would be without you. You are truly a great man.”

“My little boy admires you so much that he wants to be a knight just like you when he grows up.”

Yvona may have spotted him, but that didn’t mean she could simply walk up to Claude and speak with him. Throngs of people surrounded him. Given her influence and rank, or lack thereof, she could not get anywhere near him.

Other young ladies who were trying to get to him grew irritated. “Ugh, must these old bores flatter the duke like so on a day like this?”

“This is the first time the duke has attended a ball held during the Festival of Iphelia. The gentlemen really ought to step aside for the young ladies.”

“It’s not just the gentlemen... Look...”

The entrance of a powerful contender caught the attention of every young lady in the ballroom. The crowd parted as Marquis Keldern made his way toward Claude. However, it was the lady next to him that had everyone’s attention.

Striking red hair and severe features. Even Yvona, who did not follow society, recognized her: Lady Julia Keldern.

She was the very person who made bright-colored dresses and loud makeup fashionable. It went without saying that she was a woman of breathtaking beauty who could pull off such a bold style.

“Nice to see you, Azentine. It’s been a while. This is my daughter. I believe she is five years younger than you.”

“Julia Keldern. I have heard such great things about you, Duke Azentine.”

Julia was part of this conversation, but Claude did not give her so much as a glance after exchanging greetings. Julia on the other hand, appeared so bashful she didn’t know what to do with herself.

The young ladies whispered, “I guess you have to be the daughter of at least a marquis to even approach the duke. It must be true that Lady Julia has taken a special interest in Duke Azentine.”

“Oh, but look at him. He isn’t giving her any attention. Did he just cut her off? Even if he ultimately marries the imperial princess for the advantage, isn’t he permitted to court young ladies until they’re engaged?”

“If he’s so cold to the beautiful Lady Julia, I can only imagine how he’ll treat us. Ohh, he is like a beautiful flower blooming on the edge of a cliff so out of reach.”

Yvona knew why Claude was cold to Lady Julia, who continued to look admiringly at him. He was treating her in the same way he treated any young lady who showed interest in him, as Yvona recalled from her past life.

Most of the ladies Yvona witnessed Claude turn down were of insignificant rank, who weren’t serious contenders for the position of the Duchess of Azentine. In contrast, Lady Julia was his equal in rank and consequence.

Perhaps he has his cap set on the imperial princess as the other young ladies say, or...

The young ladies in attendance were discouraged by Claude’s treatment of Lady Julia, but Yvona was not. Rather, this gave her confidence.

As the guests around him struck up a conversation with one another, Claude furtively relieved himself from their company.

He was not known for his enjoyment of social events; he had stayed just long enough that it would not be rude to take his leave. Yvona noticed this and followed him without being seen.

This was her chance.

***

Yvona followed Claude out into the garden where lovers were whispering sweet nothings to each other.

“Where are my flowers of Iphelia?”

“They didn’t bloom this year because of the weather. You knew this.”

The flower of Iphelia was a very popular flower with its pure white petals and luscious bloom. The legend surrounding the flower didn’t hurt, either, but the flower was as beautiful as it was finicky.

There was hardly any Iphelia this year at its namesake festival. This was due to the sudden change in weather. Even the wealthiest aristocrats couldn’t get their hands on the Iphelia, as none bloomed this year.

“Wait a minute. What are you looking at?”

“Well...”

“Were you looking at her? Were you? Who’s that woman!”

“I don’t know her. I really don’t!”

The woman the gentlemen were accused of staring at was none other than Yvona. No one seemed to recognize her—not in the ballroom earlier, and not in the garden now.

She was Cinderella indeed, like they said—transformed beyond recognition.

All I did was put on a dress that looked good on me and wear makeup that fell pitifully short of what Morganne instructed me to try.

But then again, this was her first ball in a very long time. On top of that, she was always known as the quiet, homely girl standing next to Gaspar at functions.

The way Yvona carried herself had also changed dramatically, even though she didn’t notice this herself. Always passive and self-conscious in the past, Yvona was now walking confidently with her shoulders back as though she was a different person.

Yvona weaved through the couples who had begun to argue over her, trying not to lose sight of Lord Claude.

Just then, a man beckoned her. Narrow shoulders, tiny frame—it was Lord Mathis Grande, the second son of Earl Grande.

She remembered him as the man who made rude comments about her well-endowed figure and who had left her alone since her engagement to Gaspar was announced.

“Beautiful lady, may I be so bold as to ask who you are?”