He touched the brim of his hat in salute and opened the door.
Catherine wasamazed when the solid green door of Madame Vaussard’s establishment opened before her hand touched the latch, and a large man almost careened into her. Instinctively she stumbled backward, bumping into Susannah who, insurprise, dropped her reticule. They both stooped to retrieve it, the brims of their bonnets smashing together. Susannah started to giggle.
“Miss Shreveton, so we meet again. What a pleasant surprise.”
The dark, rich-timbered voice took the cousins by surprise. Slowly they turned and rose as one, a bright shade of pink staining Catherine’s neck and cheeks.
“My lord,” she murmured, curtsying.
“I trust you are quite recovered from that unfortunate episode at the inn?” he inquired, his eyes never leaving Catherine’s flushed countenance.
Catherine was incensed that he should mention the incident. Surely a gentleman would possess more consideration for a lady’s sensibilities. She tossed her head up, her chin thrusting out in challenge as she met his steady regard. “I deem it best forgotten.”
His lips twitched in humor. He bowed his head. “As you wish. I am known to have a deplorable memory, anyway. I hope others are as inclined to forget,” he finished meaningfully.
“Memory serves no purpose.”
“I bow to your greater knowledge. But aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion?”
Catherine had the grace to blush again. “Of course,” she said stiffly, turning to Susannah. “May I present his lordship, the Marquis of Stefton. My lord, my cousin, Miss Shreveton.”
Stefton smiled at her awkward introduction but did not comment. He bowed to Susannah. “Charmed, my dear. Your father is, I believe, our illustrious Captain the Honorable Glendon Shreveton of His Majesty’s navy?”
“That is correct, my—my lord,” Susannah stuttered, blushing and bowing her head in pretty confusion.
He returned his attention to Catherine. “I shall look forward to seeing you both again. Perhaps at Lady Oakley’s ball?”
“Yes, I believe we go there,” Catherine returned stiffly.
Stefton raised an amused eyebrow at her show of reluctance, then grasped her hand, raising it to his lips. “Since I am to forget the incident at the inn, I shall look forward to making your acquaintance at Lady Oakley’s.”
He bowed again to Susannah, then turned on his heel to saunter down Bond Street.
“Arrogant, insufferable, and rude,” Catherine murmured wrathfully.
“And out of character,” mused her cousin, complacently smiling as she watched the Marquis until he was out of sight.
Bethie giggled and exchanged knowing looks with Susannah.
Fiercely denying the tingling that trailed down her spine, Catherine looked at them in disgust. Clasping Susannah’s elbow, she pulled her toward the shop.
Through the open shop door, Lady Welville saw the Marquis engage two plainly-dressed young women in conversation. She was frustrated that she could not hear what was said; however, that he was acquainted with one of them was apparent. Jealousy clawed at her, and she swore viciously under her breath. She grabbed her cloak and reticule and marched toward the door, angrily shouldering aside the dark auburn-haired woman who’d held Stefton’s attention.
“What!” Catherine exclaimed, staring after the elegantly-attired woman.
“Do not mind that one,” Madame Vaussard said, hurrying to Catherine’s side and leading her and Susannah, followed by Bethie, into the shop.
“Hannah,ma petite chou, do not stand there. Put that fabric away.Vite! Vite!" the little Frenchwoman said, waving her assistant toward the back room. She led Catherine andSusannah to two Queen Anne chairs covered in a pale green damask cloth and begged them to be seated.
“Now, how may I be of service to you?” she asked, studying them intently.
Madame Vaussard catered to women of the bon ton who possessed both money and a certain panache or flair that enabled them to wear gowns a step ahead of fashion. She did not consider Lady Welville a suitable candidate for her creations, for the woman was barely respectable, as the Marquis rightly implied.
She would typically dismiss two so badly-dressed young ladies and consign them to a shop assistant, but Madame Vaussard had not become successful by judging a person on appearances. A shrewd knowledge of Society, and the ability to look beyond the obvious, were also hallmarks of her success.
These two plainly-gowned women intrigued her. They were both beauties, despite the scraped-back hair of the dark-haired one. She had not missed the way that one had challenged the Marquis or how he had smiled in return.
The Marquis of Stefton was not known for speaking kindly to, let alone teasing, young women. And that kiss upon the dark one’s hand—oo-la-la! There was an untold story here that she, Madame Vaussard, would know. It was just possible she might be looking at the next Marchioness of Stefton and future Duchess of Vauden! That was not a plum any clever dressmaker would ignore, and Madame Vaussard was nothing if not clever.
