He tried to dismiss these images from his mind.
But they plagued him all the way back to St.James’s.
Chapter Six
Miss Beatrice Salisburystood before the glass and frowned.
She had been told that Mrs.Warburton was the best modiste in London.But Beatrice could not say that she was impressed by the gown she was currently wearing.
“It is pretty,” Sally said, from a divan to her right.
“You are unhappy,” the prim Englishwoman, Mrs.Warburton herself, said behind her, her tone somewhere between matter-of-fact and annoyed.
“It isn’t quite…”
The dress was exactly what she had asked for.An evening dress but nothing dramatic or sensual.Yes, she knew she was supposed to be a courtesan, but she didn’t like the idea of showing herself in scanty evening wear.Surely, men didn’t need such an obvious display of her charms to find her appealing.And with her confidence in the bedchamber, she felt that she wouldn’t need such a public advertisement of what she had to offer.And yet she couldn’t deny that the dress did not quite strike the right note.
“Dear Lord,” said a masculine voice from the other end of the room.“Are you chaperoning a debutante or trying to win the admiration of the vice-inclined gentlemen of London?”
Beatrice whipped her head around.
How had he found her?
He must have asked the staff at St.James’s.
But why would he come all this way just to see her shop?
“You would recommend a different gown,” she said, dryly.She was a bit offended by his remark, but she alsodidwant the benefit of his expertise.That was his value, after all.
“Mrs.Warburton is known for gowns that regularly make men regret the day they were born.Let’s use that to our advantage, shall we?”
“I don’t think I need agownto do that.”She smirked in the mirror.
He scowled.
Beatrice caught Sally’s eye.The girl looked scandalized again.Honestly, it was a bit trying to always have her sister’s innocent face staring back at her in shock.
“Sally, why don’t you see Mrs.Warburton’s attendants about your muslin?”
She had promised the girl a new dress and, really, she needed it.
The girl nodded and scurried from the room.
“Do not be arrogant, Miss Salisbury.It is not just the men you need to impress.”
What the devil did he mean?
“I will bring a new selection,” said Mrs.Warburton, her tone as dry as it had been since Beatrice had entered the shop.
“I don’t understand you,” Beatrice said, turning back to the mirror.She supposed that the bodice was a bit…matronly.She didn’t know London fashion, but even to her eye, the neckline looked a bit high.“The men have the money, the influence, the power.They are who I need to attract.Who else would I need to impress?”
He snorted.“You overestimate the typical high-society male.Most of them have never had an original thought pass through their minds.They chase after what other men of their ilk want.What other people in their world see as desirable.”
“But I already haveyou,” Beatrice scoffed.“You are the tastemaker, are you not?”
“Yes, but I am not the only one.”
“You are being deliberately opaque.”
