“Just my girls hard at work. A shop doesn’t run itself, you know,” Madame Marieur said breezily. “Now how may I help you,chérie?”
The dressmaker’s polite manner didn’t mask the hard impatience in her onyx eyes.
Emma thought quickly. “I’m, um, in need of some undergarments.”
“I’m afraid we take clients by appointment only. We are very busy, you understand. Perhaps you will try the modiste on the next block...” Madame Marieur pushed her toward the door.
Emma dug in her heels. “But... but Lily said you would help me.”
The dressmaker halted, her eyes narrowing. “Lily White sent you? To me?”
LilyWhite? Was that the maid’s real name? “Er, yes.” Gretchen’s words flashed through Emma’s brain. “She said you would offer me the, um,special discount?”
“I see.” Her ploy must have worked because the impatient gleam left Madame’s eyes, replaced by one of... interest? “I would not have guessed,petite, that you are a friend of Lily’s.”
“We met at a mutual place of employ,” Emma extemporized.
“You are an actress at The Cytherea?”
Lily was anactress? Had she been hired because of her profession to play the part of a maid in Strathaven’s household? Emma’s mind spun with new possibilities.
“I met Lily, er... at a production,” she said with thumping excitement. “But I haven’t seen her of late. Have you?”
“That one comes and goes,non?” Madame shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in over a fortnight.”
Not since Strathaven had been poisoned. Coincidence? Surely not.
“Do you know where she might have gone?” Emma said.
“You ask many questions.” Madame Marieur’s eyes narrowed. “You will learn,chérie, that discretion is the best policy for women of the world. And youarea woman of the world,n’est-ce pas?”
“Of course,” Emma said hastily.
“Bien.” The dressmaker’s black skirts swished as she went to the counter, crooking a finger for Emma to follow. She opened a ledger with an embossed leather cover and dipped her pen in ink. “Now what will your pleasure be today?”
“I—I’d like a corset and petticoats. And stockings, too. Like Lily’s.” The more elaborate the ensemble, the more time she’d have to try to finagle information out of Madame Marieur.
“An ambitious little bird, aren’t you? You demand the very best my establishment has to offer. As luck would have it,”—a calculating gleam entered the other’s eyes—“I happen to have exactly what you seek today.”
The dressmaker jotted something down on the page... what appeared to be a figure—Good Lord,five hundred pounds? For unmentionables?
For an instant, Emma was sorely tempted to negotiate the astronomical figure. But Madame snapped the book shut and headed toward the curtain at the back of the shop.
“Come,petite.” She beckoned with an impatient hand. “If you wish to complete this transaction, we haven’t time to spare.”
Emma took a breath. Strathaven had said that he would pay for all expenses incurred in the course of investigation—surely his offer would apply in this situation. At the thought of how he might react to learning of the current intrigue, however, her insides quivered.
She stiffened her backbone and her resolve.You must act as you know best. You’re doing this for Strathaven’s own good. Look what you’ve discovered already.
Decision made, she went over to Madame, who parted the velvet and opened the heavy door behind it, waving Emma forward into a narrow corridor. The door closed behind them, deepening the shadows. The dancing light of the occasional taper and the deep, musky scent of roses disoriented Emma’s senses.
Madame set forth at a brisk pace, Emma stumbling to keep up.
The dressmaker said, “Le Boudoir Rougeshould do nicely.”
Hinges squealed softly, and a door opened, a shaft of light widening into the darkness. With cautious footsteps, Emma followed the other inside. She blinked—for a changing room, this place was opulent, to say the least.
Red beeswax candles diffused a hazy glow throughout the chamber. Their flames swayed in the mirrors that adorned all four walls. Reflections magnified the decadence of the scarlet interior, the walls, divan, and carpeting blending into one lushly wicked hue.
