Which was why she had ended up at this modiste. She was known for providing garments that were a little more daring than a typical gown. The kind of thing that was perfect for ahoneymoon, but not polite company. Yet when Vivian had seen the dresses the modiste had made, even her ears had gone red.
I might as well not wear anything; they are so thin.
“Mark my words, it’ll keep your husband’s attention. There isn’t a man alive who would resist a woman in a dress like this.” The modiste tapped a finger to her lips. “Well, at least not a normal man, anyway.”
Vivian nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Though Thomas had bid her charge everything to his own account, she had not been able to bring herself to ask this particular modiste to send her invoice to his estate. Thankfully, in a rare show of generosity, her mother had agreed to pay for these ‘essential’ garments.
I suppose it was my mother’s idea in the first place.Vivian tried not to think too hard about the fact that her mother knew about such a place. Henrietta, her chaperone for the day, was a delicate shade of pink as she fanned herself.
“Thank you.” Vivian handed over a heavy coin purse.
“Think nothing of it, my lady.” The modiste pocketed the money and handed Vivian a box.
Vivian pulled her hood up over her head, grabbed the box, and, ducking her head, darted out of the doorway, praying that no one would see her leaving this particular shop, which meantthat she ran headlong into a small group of people who had just climbed out of a carriage.
The box slipped from her hands onto the floor, its contents spilling out. Vivian dived for it, hastily shoving it out of sight, cursing softly under her breath even as she attempted to garble apologies to the group.
“Vivian? Are you all right?” A deep and familiar voice said from above her, followed by the scent of amber.
Perfect. Just perfect.Vivian may not have believed in curses, but she was certainly starting to as she looked up and saw not just her fiancé standing above her, but two of the most beautiful women she had ever seen on either side of him.
“Let me help you with—” Thomas leaned toward the box and its spilled contents, but Vivian cut him off, practically diving onto it.
“No, that will not be necessary, thank you!”
Vivian whipped it out of reach so quickly that the dratted thing nearly burst open again. “It is bad luck to see the wedding dress before the wedding. At least, that is what I have heard. Not that I believe in such things. Luck, I mean, not weddings. Of course, I believe in weddings. But well, you never know, do you? And surely it is better to err on the side of caution?”
Shut up!
With difficulty, Vivian managed to stop talking. It would have been bad enough to run into Thomas, but why did he have to be accompanied by these two women? She felt something stir uneasily in her chest as she looked at them, both so beautiful and wearing clothes so beautifully tailored that she felt like she was wearing nothing more exciting than a hessian sack.
“At least allow me to help you to your feet.” Her fiancé gently took her hand in his and pulled her into a standing position as easily as if she weighed nothing more than a feather.
“Thank you.” She swallowed, still trying to hide the box behind her back.
“You should be more careful; you could have been hurt.” Thomas frowned.
“I will try in the future.” Vivian forced herself not to shift from one foot to the other. “Though I fear I have already taken far too much of your time, and I do not want to keep you and your… your… um… I should not keep you any longer than I have.”
Her eyes went to the two women with Thomas, and she felt something stir in her chest when she realized both women had their hands on his arms.
“I think you should introduce us properly, Thomas.” The taller of the two women gestured toward Vivian. “After all, I have been looking forward to meeting your fiancée.”
She had dark blonde hair and green eyes and was even taller than Vivian. It was not something she was used to, and it made the stranger seem even more intimidating.
“Lady Vivian, allow me to introduce my cousins, Andrea Felton, Duchess of Caverton.” Thomas inclined his head toward the tall woman, then toward the other woman beside him. “And Charlotte Dorson, Duchess of Verimore.”
“Cousins by marriage,” Duchess Caverton explained, clearly catching sight of Vivian’s confused expression. “And please call me Andrea—we are going to be family after all.”
“And you may call me Charlotte.” Duchess Verimore smiled. “I have long learned that those who cling to formality do not do well when they join the family.”
She had jet-black hair, pale green eyes, and seemed short in comparison to everyone else. Though Vivian supposed that meant she was probably of average height. She had a warm and welcoming smile.
Vivian felt the knot in her chest ease slightly. “I shall keep that in mind, Your—I mean, Charlotte. And of course, you may call me Vivian if you wish.”
Andrea was looking from Vivian to the modiste in a way that made Vivian suspect the woman knew exactly where she had come from and what kind of dresses they specialized in making. Her heart sped up—what if they mentioned this to Thomas?
It was one thing to plan to wear the thing, quite another to be forced to admit what it was on a public street in the company of two duchesses, no less.
