“She is,” Penelope continued, though she noticed Odette blushing and trying to hide behind the curtains. “Odette, noneed to be shy. I have known Madame Bellamy for many years now. In fact, she was the one who designed the dress for my debut.”
“And Her Grace looked like a vision in it,” Madame Bellamy smiled.
“You truly do magic with your work,” Penelope nodded, “and I expect you to do the same today. We are visiting to find Odette’s first proper dress.”
Odette groaned softly, “You need not make such a big fuss about it.”
“And why not?” Madame Bellamy answered instead. “It sounds like a special occasion, indeed. An important stepping stone in a young lady’s life.”
“You see, that is part of the problem,” Penelope grinned. “Young Odette here does not see herself as much of a young lady. She fits in better with… well, the boys, shall we say.”
“Is that so?”
Without waiting for permission, she reached into the folds of her apron and produced a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. In a dramatic fashion, she perched them on the bridge of her nose, and approached Odette, who was still attempting to use a velvet curtain as a shield.
“Come now, my dear,” she said with a playful click of her tongue. “Step into the light. I must examine my subject if I am to do her justice.”
Odette reluctantly peeled herself away from the curtain, arms folded across her chest like armor.
The modiste lowered her head slightly, peering through her spectacles as she assessed the young lady.
“Hmm,” she murmured. “Indeed. A tragic injustice, if what you are saying is true, Your Grace.”
Odette wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”
Madame Bellamy tilted Odette’s chin gently with her finger, inspecting her face with a seasoned eye.
“Soft jawline. High cheekbones. A very graceful neck. And gorgeous eyes. Very, very striking.”
Eyes just like her father.Penelope found herself thinking, but chose instead to say, “I agree with you completely.”
Odette blinked, looking awkwardly between the two ladies.
“She’s quite the picture of a young lady, whether she wishes to admit it or not,” the modiste concluded with authority. “Shehas no place amongst the boys. If anything, they ought to count themselves lucky if she so much as glances their way.”
Odette made a strangled sort of noise in the back of her throat. “T hat is not true.”
“She is modest, too,” Madame Bellamy shot Penelope a knowing look. “Truly a rare feat, especially considering what I see in young women these days. Your Grace, I can already predict that she is going to be Diamond of the Season when she finally debuts. And when the time arrives, you must come to me for her dress,” She took Penelope’s hand in hers, as if to secure the promise.
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves now,” Penelope laughed, sensing how awkward Odette was getting at the whole thing. “One day at a time. Today, we are only here for her first proper fitting.”
“Oh, my apologies,” Madame Bellamy took a hurried step backwards, “Truly. It was just hard not to think of the future when there is just so much potential. But not to worry.I adore first fittings. And with a figure like yours, my dear, we shall have no trouble at all.”
Odette blinked, clearly overwhelmed, but Madame Bellamy was already bustling toward the nearest rack, pulling fabrics and muttering under her breath.
Penelope leaned closer to Odette and murmured, “Now’s the time to run, if you’re going to.”
“I’d never make it past Fergus,” Odette grumbled.
Penelope gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry. First fittings can feel daunting, but I’m here, should you need anything.”
Odette nodded, and Penelope realized that it was a small sign that she was beginning to trust her more.
Madame Bellamy returned with her helper in tow , bringing with her a large stack of clothes.
“Well, the first thing is to decide on the color,” she started.
She laid out several swatches across the table without fuss. Lavender, cream, soft blue, pale green, and a few deeper tones like plum and navy. Odette scanned them with a neutral expression, but when Madame Bellamy held up the plum swatch, she frowned.
