Everyone gave him a second look, especially the women. It was as if they all knew that he wassomeone.
All these people listening to their guts. Delphine would be pleased.
He paused in front of a freshly painted shop, waiting for Emma to catch up.
“In here,” he said, grinning like a parent watching a child about to open a fine gift. “Ladies first.”
Emma was about to make some sharp reply about that, but then she stepped into the shop, and the words died on her tongue.
It was a dress shop. Of course, she had seen fabrics before and bought them from markets. The brown dress she was wearing now was one of her own creations.
But this was something else. One wall was entirely filled with fabrics, in materials and colors she had never imagined. Women in black stuff dresses waited patiently with folded hands, waiting on finely dressed ladies, all talking about the fabrics and discussing patterns in books.
Some of the dress patterns had been made up into gowns, so the buyers could see what they would look like. Emma’s dress was a plain, simple thing, almost feeling like a rag or a burlap sack beside the fabulous creations of silk, satin, and lace.
“This is Charlotte,” Thomas said, cutting into her thoughts. “She’ll help ye choose three fabrics and three dress patterns. I will handle the bill.”
Charlotte was a demure mousy-haired woman of about thirty, dressed in black. She stepped forward with a smile and bobbed a curtsey.
Emma watched agog. Had anyone ever curtseyed to her before? No, she didn’t think so.
“This is too much,” she managed hoarsely. “I cannae accept this.”
A cloud fluttered across Thomas’s face.
He glanced down at Charlotte, who tactfully turned away. Leaning down, he whispered in Emma’s ear, “Ye are doing me a favor, remember? Ye are coming to the event as my fiancée. Ye will be good and convincing, won’t ye? This is our deal.”
Of course. Their deal.
Emma swallowed hard, feeling almost foolish. How could she have forgotten? He was buying her these dresses so that she would look the part. If she looked like a grubby healer in a moth-eaten dress, nobody would ever believe she was about to marry Laird MacPherson.
Don’t be so stupid.Don’t read more into it than there is meant to be. Don’t make things awkward. Just play your part, aye?
“Aye, of course,” she said aloud, flashing him a cool smile. Some of the joy at the sights, sounds, and colors faded away, but not all of it.
Three new dresses were a luxury Emma had never experienced in her life. She’d never even had the luxury of getting twonew dresses at once.
Thomas eyed her, frowning. He waited for a moment, then sighed, shaking his head. “Right. Well, I shall leave ye here with Charlotte. I’ll be back in an hour. Is that enough time?”
Emma glanced up at the wall of fabric. She could see silk, wool, stuff, calico, satin, and lace. More, probably. Maybe fabrics she’d never even heard of, in colors and patterns that she did not know existed.
She could just stare at those fabrics for an hour.
“Maybe two hours,” she said.
Thomas chuckled at that. “Two hours it is, then. Enjoy.”
He left before she could say another word. She watched him go, picking his way easily through the filthy cobbles of the road. He disappeared into a shop markedJewellers.
A pang went through her chest, although she wasn’t entirely sure where it had come from.
“Me Lady?” Charlotte asked, her voice soft. “Is there any fabric ye would particularly like to see?”
Emma surveyed the wall for a long moment. Then, she pointed at a bolt of what looked like silk dyed the most vibrant, eye-catching shade of red she’d ever seen.
“Thatone.”
12
