“Any price,” he repeated. “And we’ll tell everyone we’ve been on your list for five years, and that you are absolutely worth the wait. You know as well as I do that having my name attached to your creations will double or triple their value overnight.”
She eyed him with avarice. “You’ll say my work is so divine, every stitch is capable of entrancing even an infamously reclusive misanthrope like you?”
His jaw flexed. “It will be the first announcement I make to Parliament.”
The modiste bit her lip, and gave Matilda another semi-despairing appraisal. “You said… any price?”
“Go with Madame Theroux,” Gilbourne commanded Matilda. “She’ll want to take measurements at once.”
“Measurements at once,” the modiste repeated, then fumbled her key back into the lock. “Come with me, Miss Dodd. We haven’t a moment to waste.”
When the door swung open, Gilbourne took the lantern from the modiste. “Wait here with Miss Dodd.”
Madame Theroux frowned. “But you said—”
He edged her out of the doorway and strode inside the shop, disappearing into each room in turn. The glow from the lantern lifted high and sunk low, as if he were inspecting every inch of the wallpaper and floorings before allowing his ward inside.
He returned and handed back the lantern.
“What were you looking for?” asked a mystified Madame Theroux.
“Nothing.” Gilbourne locked eyes with Matilda. “Go on in. It’s safe.”
Spiders. He had been sweeping for spiders.
“Thank you,” she whispered. His thoughtfulness with her fears meant even more than his extravagance with the modiste.
“I’ll wait in the carriage,” he informed Madame Theroux. “When you finish, bring me my ward, and a number written upon a piece of paper. You’ll have your bank deposit by morning.”
“You’re not coming with me?” Matilda blurted out.
He arched his brows. “To a dress fitting, in which you will be disrobed and measured? No, Miss Dodd. I will be in the carriage.”
“I meant… Surely there’s a waiting room…” she mumbled, her face aflame at yet another gauche mistake.
“Come along,” Madame Theroux said briskly, pulling Matilda inside the shop and closing the door. “I’m missing my supper for this.”
“It sounds as though you can now afford a bottle of champagne to go with your supper.”
“A bottle? I’ll soon be able to afford to install fountains of the stuff in every room. Lord Gilbourne has just cemented my career, and he knows it. That is, once I manage to turn you from…” She grimaced. “this…” A dismissive gesture accompanied the grimace. “…into the diamond of the ton.”
“Diamonds are a good thing?” Matilda asked hesitantly.
“Diamonds are the best thing.” Madame Theroux lit sconces in a small, pretty room and motioned for Matilda to turn around. “Miss Charlton was this year’s diamond—and last year’s, as well—which means it is time for a new queen to ascend to the throne, n’est-ce pas?”
“Miss… Bernice Charlton?” Matilda squeaked.
If Bernice had hated Matilda before her transformation…
But was it even possible to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, as they say?
Madame Theroux could dress Matilda like a royal princess, but as soon as Matilda opened her mouth, everyone would know she was just… Matilda.
Her gown disappeared over her head, followed by her shift. Goosebumps flared across her flesh at the sudden exposure to the chill night air.
“Hold still,” Madame Theroux commanded, her words muffled by the pencil clutched in her teeth. “Every stitch has to be perfect.”
Matilda held herself as still as a post. She wanted adventure? Here it was. All she had to do was grab on tight. Her heart pounded.
