“The finery you see before you is the result of aristocratic connections and money, the full power of which you have at your fingertips.”
Eva Galante was, first and foremost, a businesswoman. Hortense understood the decisions that made one a success. “Lady Mariana can certainly be a force when she puts her mind to it.”
“It wasn’t Lady Mariana rapping on my shop door first thing this morning,” said Eva.
“No?”
“It was your betrothed, the Marquess of Clare.”
The Marquess of Clare…her betrothed. It beggared belief.
“He was quite clear that you are to have the best. When he saw this garment hanging on a dress form, he insisted it be yours.” She tapped her mouth with her forefinger. “And I can see why. It suits your coloring perfectly.”
Hortense fought the urge to squirm. Never in her life had she been the recipient of such attention. No, that wasn’t true. Although she could hardly call to mind the curves and contours of Papa and Maman’s faces, the care in their eyes had never left her.
And the dress Clare had chosen for her—hadinsistedupon—was fit for a princess.
The very notion was too bright, too bold, for her to face directly. She had to turn away from it. This was part of the ruse they were selling to theton. That was all.
A whine from Sir Bacon caught the room’s attention. The little dog had come to a stand and was wagging an impatient tail. She knew exactly what that meant. “He needs to go outside.”
“Surely, he can wait.”
“Hand me my dress.”
She made to step down from the stool. Sir Bacon hadn’t had an accident indoors all day yesterday. He was a smart fellow, which led to a single explanation for his indoor incontinence. No one had ever taken the time or had the patience to teach him his manners.
Eva held up a staying hand. “Nell, take the animal outside, if you will.”
Nell’s face lit up. “Happy to.”
“His lead is beside the door,” said Hortense, but Nell had already located the length of white silk and was slipping it over the dog’s neck. The girl was out the door in a matter of seconds.
Now just the two of them, Eva met Hortense’s eye. It was obvious the woman had something to say. “Before we continue, I feel I must clear the air between us.” She was referring to last June.
“There is entirely no need,” said Hortense. “I can assure you.”
Eva had a look in her eye that said she wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Thank you for saving my life.”
Hortense went suddenly hot, a blush rising to the surface of her skin. It was the rare occasion that she received gratitude for her services, and it sat at an odd angle inside her. “It wasn’t your life that I saved.”
Eva’s eyes narrowed. “Sí, it was.”
It was clear neither of them wanted to revisit the June summer night when Hortense had only just deflected the shot Eva had fired at Lord Bertrand Montfort. Although she’d been able to prevent the bullet from hitting its target squarely, it had wounded and paralyzed Montfort. Not that the man hadn’t deserved it. But if he’d been killed, well, the consequences for Eva Galante would have been beyond Hortense and Percy’s ability to cover up.
Eva held up the dress, her gaze shifting back and forth between Hortense and the garment. “Oh, why must you be so small?”
“I haven’t the choice, I’m afraid. If I did, I can assure you I would be considerably larger.”
Eva heaved a resigned sigh. “This dress will need to be taken in a great deal. You are no more than a scrap of a woman.”
“I believe I have all the necessary parts.”
Eva sized her up from head to toe. “But look at the lean muscles on your arms. You are strong, too. Now, let us see what we are working with.”
Hortense did as commanded and slipped into the dress. Eva cinched and bound her into the garment, before carefully placing pins where alterations would be needed.
The bodice pinched in at her waist in the latest Parisian style, and that wasn’t its only French quality, for the bosom was cut scandalously—perilously—low. She attempted to hike it up, but to no avail. It really was determined to expose her at the slightest hint of a deep breath.
