“Ambrose,” Mae mimicked with a snicker, drawing narrowed eyes from the bride.
“Oh, have a jest to make, Casper?” Vix asked archly. “Or shall we talk about who I saw you making eyes at during my brother’s wedding?”
Mae paused, her fingers still stroking along the whalebone as she turned her head toward Vix, her smug dimpled smile faltering for a moment. “You saw no such thing, Victoria Beck.”
Vix smiled. “Didn’t I?”
Hannah sighed and glanced at Mae with a shrug. “I saw it too,” she said, giving an apologetic little smile. “But at least it was mutual, Mae.”
“You’re both imagining things,” Mae said with a sniff, turning on her heel to move to the next dress form with her back to them. “Too much wine and revelry will scramble your brains. It’s understandable for Hannah, of course. She was the bride.”
Rosalind was watching the exchange, wide-eyed and blinking, looking like she was only moments away from either begging to be let in on the joke or insisting they all take a nice nap until their tempers were softer.
“And now I am,” Vix replied, tossing a wink at Rosalind in an effort to reassure her. “And I say you were flashing those dimples of yours at my dear friend Roland Reed.”
“Keep talking,” Mae suggested. “You’re right. I’m missing the feeling of bones snapping under my hands.”
“Oh dear,” Rosalind said again, frowning.
Hannah shook her head, looking torn between laughing and sighing, and set the fabric pile down on the arm of the sofa next to her, stretching her arms over her head. “What will Mr. Aster wear to St. James’s Palace?” she asked. “I’ve never been invited to something so official.”
“Breeches, if you believe it,” Vix answered, immediately distracted from her verbal sparring by the question of theknighting. “And a sash. The tailor told me he has done the same kit for other knights prior to the event, so I am not concerned about the correctness. I’ll be wearing the indigo that night, to match his coat.”
“Oh, the satin?” Mae asked, immediately distracted from her fury by the pull of a jewel tone in slippery fabric. “I haven’t seen that one on you yet.”
“Not ready,” the modiste mumbled through the pins in her mouth, reminding them all that they were, in fact, being observed in their bad behavior.
“It is getting warmer by the day,” Vix explained. “I thought I ought to embrace the opportunity to wear something light while I can, and Ambrose was amenable to the color selection.”
“You haven’t told us much about him,” Rosalind said, giving a helpless little sigh and cradling her chin in her hands. “Is he very handsome?”
“Of course he is,” Vix said with a quirk of her lips. “Hannah will tell you.”
“Very handsome,” Hannah agreed, nodding. “He looks exactly as one might imagine an aristocrat should.”
“Anemic?” Mae suggested, getting glares from the other three.
“He is pale,” Hannah conceded reluctantly.
“Not in a sickly way,” Vix amended immediately. “His mother is Swedish. It is just his coloring.”
“And he is very charming, I imagine?” Rosalind pressed, twirling one of her sandy ringlets around her finger. “Does he woo you?”
Hannah bit her lip and looked away.
“He has been everything I could hope for thus far,” Vix said, “but we have not spent much time together as yet.”
“I thought you went to his house,” Mae interjected, leaning against the arm of the sofa and crossing her arms. “Didn’t you?”
Vix released a little laugh before she could stop herself, quickly reaching up to cover her lips. “I did, yes,” she said, nodding. “After we registered the banns. It was … not a romantic outing.”
Rosalind frowned. “Why not?”
“Because Roland was with us acting as chaperone,” Vix said, losing yet another little giggle against her fingers. “I think my husband-to-be might have a propensity toward pouting, actually. Hannah, do you know why he hates Roland so?”
Hannah was still staring out the window, her lips pressed together in what looked like a matched attempt to suppress laughter. She glanced at Vix out of the corner of her eye and nodded, a short little jerking assent of her red head.
“Well?” said Rosalind, breathless. “Aren’t you going to tell us? Is it a rivalry?” She paused, giving a dramatic little gasp, her fingers coming up over her mouth. “Is Mr. Reed in love with Vix?”
