Chapter One
Mary-Ann Seaton hadalways liked the front parlor in the late morning. The tall windows caught the sun just right and filled the room with a soft warmth that dulled the sharp edges of her thoughts. This morning, the golden light spilled across the room, which had been transformed into a private fitting room. The usual furniture had been rearranged to accommodate fabrics, gowns, and pins, while the scent of lavender beeswax, and floral Darjeeling tea hung in the air.
Mary-Ann stood in front of the full-length cheval mirror, the hem of her nearly finished wedding gown pooled in soft folds around her feet. Her auburn hair had been swept back loosely for the fitting, a few tendrils falling over her shoulder. Her expression, reflected in the glass, was calm. Peaceful. Even quietly pleased.
She turned slightly as Mrs. Pembroke, the dressmaker, circled her, pinning fabric and murmuring to herself as she worked.
Finally, done. She stood back and took in Mary-Ann. “He’ll be stunned when he sees you,” the seamstress said with a warm smile.
Mary-Ann tilted her head and gazed into the mirror. “That is my plan.”
The gown was lovely, a rose gold satin with delicate ivory trim at the neckline, and sleeves that fluttered just off hershoulders. It was everything she had imagined. It was refined. Graceful. Entirely hers.
Across the room, seated in a high-backed chair near the hearth, Mrs. Bainbridge watched with an appraising eye and a small, fond smile. She had arrived an hour ago under the pretense of keeping Mary-Ann company during the fitting, though her glances toward the window had grown more frequent.
Mary-Ann had once been a student at the Sommer-by-the-Sea Female Seminary, where Mrs. Bainbridge, the founder and headmistress, had encouraged her, boldly and against all expectations, to pursue mathematics and finance. Their acquaintance had grown into a bond far deeper than one of headmistress and pupil. Mary-Ann trusted her implicitly.
“Are you comfortable, Mrs. Bainbridge?” she asked, catching her guest’s reflection in the mirror. “You’ve seemed a bit unsettled since you arrived.”
Mrs. Pembroke motioned her to turn.
Mrs. Bainbridge started, then gave a light chuckle. “Forgive me. I’m distracted, I suppose. It’s not every day a woman accepts a marriage proposal and then spends the week pretending she hasn’t.”
Mrs. Pembroke froze, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O,’ t.
Mary-Ann spun around sharply, the satin hem whispering across the carpet. “You accepted Lord Barrington!” she said, unable to contain her excitement.
“I did,” Mrs. Bainbridge replied, pouring herself a cup of tea.
“You didn’t say a word!”
“Well, he looked so determined. As if I’d regret it more if I said no. It was last Saturday. This time, he had that look about him, as though he’d draft a treaty if I refused to give him a clear answer.”
Mary-Ann grinned. “That sounds exactly like him. I suppose he prepared a written proposal, thoroughly footnoted.” Mary-Ann attempted a solemn expression, but failed miserably. “Citing at least three reasons why he was the best candidate.”
“Yes, well,” Mrs. Bainbridge said, her eyes crinkling as she passed up the sugar bowl, “he did offer footnotes. I’ve never been one to be bullied into anything. Not even marriage.”
“And yet you said yes.”
“The man is rather persuasive. And, between us, it’s rather nice to be admired so… stubbornly.”
Mrs. Pembroke found her voice again and smiled. “Congratulations, Mrs. Bainbridge. That is wonderful news.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pembroke.” Mrs. Bainbridge lifted her chin a bit. “I thought you may have guessed my secret when I was in your shop earlier this week.”
“I did have my suspicions, but I knew you would let us know when you were ready. His lordship is a wonderful man.” The seamstress went back to work.
“Now I understand why you haven’t stopped smiling,” Mary-Ann teased. She had once been a student at the Sommer-by-the-Sea Female Seminary, which Mrs. Bainbridge founded. She had always admired her former teacher and headmistress’s blend of grace and grit. It was Mrs. Bainbridge who had encouraged her talent for finance and mathematics. They were odd talents for a young lady, perhaps, but ones that Mary-Ann had cultivated into sharp instincts and a rare understanding of her father’s shipping business.
“And yet you said yes.”
Mrs. Bainbridge’s eyes softened. “Yes. And I don’t regret it. Between us, it’s rather lovely to be admired so… stubbornly.”
Mary-Ann’s smile faltered, just for a moment.
She turned back to the mirror, letting the conversation drift away as Mrs. Pembroke resumed her careful work. The gownshimmered faintly in the light, its delicate trim catching the sun. It was perfect. Just as it should be. Just as everything was supposed to be.
And yet…
