“Do it for the children,” he breathed, the devil of a smile twisting the corner of his mouth.
Her own mouth quirked—but downward. “You,” she stated, “are an awful person.”
He lifted one shoulder. “I am what I need to be. And right now…I’m also whatyouneed. How fortunate for you. Go and try on the clothes, Mrs Ardingly.”
A breath of exasperation escaped her. But her chin came up. “Very well. I will wear a dress, and you can tell me what’s wrong with it. It’ll be just like old times.”
He was surprised into a laugh. She was whip smart, this woman. Sharp enough to take on the best of society’s wits. If she ever cared to.
“But you will stay there,” she added.
“Of course.” He schooled his grin to a look of great innocence. “I’m hardly going to follow you to your boudoir.”
She left him with another scathing look, and he sat back, smiling to himself.
Handley and all the friends involved in the wager were mad with curiosity to know how Sebastian fared. He hadn’t breathed a word. The Richmond picnic would be his grand unveiling. He’d made sure Handley would be there to see the Pretty Pariah transformed—no pariah anymore, but Lady Frances’s guest—and all exquisite grace in her heavenly blues and whites…
She walked into the room, and his eyebrows went up at the sight. Soft, white gauze floated from bust to floor, sweetly moulded around her chest and shoulders. Heavenly indeed!
And then his brows lowered as she stomped towards him and stood there, hands on hips, her mulish expression saying,“Well?”
“A hairdresser,” he murmured, getting to his feet. “I’ll send a hairdresser to you on Wednesday morning.”
“Well, of course. They’ll need to polish my halo.”
He laughed, stepping towards her then walking a circle, examining her from every angle. She stood stiffly, blushing faintly, eyes on the wall opposite. If she hadn’t been worried about creasing the fine fabrics, no doubt she would’ve crossed her arms again, but her hands stayed at her sides, closed into fists.
“May I touch you?”
Her head whipped around at the question.
“You said I needed to ask,” he reminded her.
“But…why…whatever…”
“Your posture.” He came closer, reaching out, a question in his eyes.
She nodded, a jerk of her head, gaze once more fastened to the wall. But as he gently set his fingertips to her chin, a shudder went through her and her chest expanded in a sudden inhale.
He tilted her jaw up. “Hold your head a little higher. Like so.” Moving to stand behind her, he set his hands lightly on the bare slope of shoulders. She stiffened, hunching them up.
“Drop them down,” he murmured, coaxing them into position with light pressure. “And pull them back slightly. It lifts your chest. These dresses are designed to hang like so.”
He circled back to her front, noting the furious blush on her cheeks but pretending not to. “Better. Walk to the window and back.”
She did so, not quite stomping this time, but stiff and jerky.
“Glide,” he said. You’re supposed to float. You are serenity and grace.”
A snort of angry laughter came from the heavenly vision, and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “If you’re betting on my being any of that, I’m afraid to say you’ve just lost your wager.”
He only smiled, beckoning her to walk back to him. He looked her up and down, perhaps a little more than was strictly necessary. The dress fitted perfectly; he’d seen that the moment she walked into the room.
“Very good. Go and try on the next, and then we can decide which one is best for Wednesday.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She dropped him a sarcastic curtsy, and he took a turn standing at the window as she went upstairs again.
