“A little too full at the bosom, milady, but my sewing ladies can make it up to your measurements. It will beravissante… Do not concern yourself that the hem falls too low, milady. When we make it for you, it will beparfait.”
The new waistline felt odd at first, set a little below the bosom, the skirt falling loosely to the ground. It had less fullness than she was used to, but a deal more movement in the soft material of the petticoat.
“The fashion, milady, it is perfect for you,” exclaimed Nadine, and Rosina was indeed gratified to see how well it suited her slim form. She looked taller, and altogether more graceful, she thought. When Nadine produced a ribbon bandeau, threading it through her hair, the result was much more attractive than her close caps. The modiste showed how her hair could be worn otherwise in a high knot, which gave her the elegance of a long neck.
She was eager to wear at least one gown tonight. “May I not take this one today? It fits me well. The others can be especially made up for me.”
“But yes, milady, as you wish.”
It was plain that Nadine’s usual customers were too nice to purchase a ready-made gown but Rosina cared nothing for that, heady with the thrill of wearing new and fashionable clothes. Then Nadine brought her down to earth with a chance remark.
Having changed back into the clothes she had come in, Rosina settled upon three other of the sample gowns to be copied to her measurements, along with accessories suggested by Nadine — a green net cloak for the white muslin and a sarcenet scarf to accompany the sprigged walking dress — and was still debating on a fourth possibility between a Turkish robe with lace trimming, and an open robe with a pleated bodice.
“If milady will be advised, the Turkish it is nice, but the pleat it is more becoming to milady’s figure. And so,” Nadine added with an arch look, “shall be more interesting for milord, I think.”
Milord? Raith! Oh, no. How could she have fallen into such extravagance when she had resolved to spend as little as possible? She was not the young newly-wed Nadine imagined, courted for her charms. She was the wife of Raith’s convenience, purchased by advertisement. She did not ask the price of the gowns. It might not be London, but she was well aware of the exorbitant cost of female attire.
If there was an undercurrent of another purpose in her decision, Rosina refused to recognise it. “I am sorry, madame,” she said, with real regret, for it was hard to give them up, “but I fear I must decline all but the white muslin we agreed I may take with me today.”
Nadine looked utterly confounded, but that could not be helped. She said nothing, and Rosina realised one advantage of her status. Traders would take care not to offend her. The modiste had one of her assistants pack up the gown in a bandbox, and carry it outside to where the chaise had been left to await Rosina’s pleasure.
She shook hands with Nadine, left the shop, and found Raith waiting for her outside its door. He was looking extremely irate, and the grey eyes glinted as he addressed her in a sarcastic undertone.
“Where, may I ask, are the other bandboxes?”
Unprepared, Rosina bit her lip. “There is only the one.”
“One?” he repeated, his tone ominous. “One bandbox? How many gowns does it contain?”
Rosina began to feel sick, wishing her spirits had not been so uplifted that she was now unequipped to fight back. But it had to be said. “One.”
Raith’s eyes narrowed. His voice was acid. “Your notions are so nice, I take it, that you could find only one gown to your taste.”
She was nettled by his sarcasm. “On the contrary, I chose several to be made up to my measurements, but I have cancelled the order. I do not need them.”
“How many did you choose?”
“I do not know how many!”
“How many?”
She jumped, quivering a little. “Four.”
The obvious restraint in his tone was worse than a shout. “Then be so good, madam wife, as to go back into that shop, and order the other four gowns.”
“No, I—”
“Rosina!” She fell silent, glowering at him. “I am not going to argue the matter, Rosina. But I warn you that we will remain here, all day, if necessary, until you do what I tell you.”
Rosina hesitated. His gaze was unwavering on hers, the glint at the back of his eyes dismaying. Hurt rose up and she felt the prick at her eyes. She would not let him see her distress. Capitulating, she turned from him, and went back into the shop. Once through the entrance, she slowed, wondering what in the world she could possibly say.
Her humiliation was intense. How could Raith make her do this? Fervently did she wish she had not let her determination to thwart her husband override her good sense. She might have known he would react thus. To her cost, she knew him to be uncommonly dictatorial, if not always as peremptory as this. She had no choice but to obey him. How she hated her marriage vow!
She must think fast, for Nadine was coming towards her, a look of interest in her sharp French features. “Milady?”
“I think—” Inspiration failed her. Dear Lord, what could she say? “The other gowns, madame... His lordship...” Oh, but this was hateful! She would never forgive Raith.
A look of comprehension came into the modiste’s face, and her eyes registered a quick flash of amusement before she veiled them. “Can it be that milady has changed her mind?”
