“Do let me know if you like it. Your opinion is most important.”
“Indeed,” she says, taking a large bite. She chews for a moment and moans softly. “It is wonderful! And this honey, I have never tasted anything like this! It’s so—” Suddenly, she drops the plate and grabs the sides of her head. Her face contorts in pain.
Marigold smiles, feigning innocence. “Are you all right, Madame?”
The modiste groans, stumbling. She braces herself against the counter, where Marigold’s dress boxes sit. She looks up slowly. Her eyes are milky white and her expression is dazed.
“Miss Claude…” she says through heavy breathing. “My, I haven’t seen you in over a year.” The woman blinks rapidly and fans herself. “Forgive me, I seem to be a bit faint. Have you come to be fitted for your sister’s wedding?”
Marigold beams. The spell worked perfectly. The woman’s memory of the day is destroyed.
“I am here to pick it up, Madame,” she says, taking the boxes from the counter. “We spoke of it just now, don’t you recall?”
“I…” She looks down at the cake on the floor. “Where did this come from?”
“I am not sure. It was there as I entered. I presumed you had not the time to clean it up.”
Confused, the modiste rubs her temples. “My deepest apologies, miss. I must be exhausted from making all these gowns recently.”
Madame Genevieve starts toward the back of the shop where a chaise sits against the wall. The woman is truly out of her mind if she cannot manage any prying questions about Marigold’s return.
“Not a problem. Now, I must pay you. May I?” she calls, gesturing to the change purse on the counter.
“Oh, yes, it is five pounds,” the woman says, lying down on the chaise and resting her hands over her eyes. Her head must be throbbing.
“Perfect,” Marigold says, taking back the money that was extorted from her earlier. She is not a thief—she leaves the amount that the dresses should have cost. Everything else is evidence, and she cannot have Madame Genevieve wondering why there is an extra sum in her purse.
“Thank you for your work, Madame. I am off.” She steps out the door, poking her head back inside for a moment to say, “Do rest well.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The four of them sit comfortably in a carriage and ride toward the masquerade.
“We look amazing,” August says, wearing tight trousers and a sage green and gold corset vest over a proper white shirt with a soft lace ruff. He dons his gold mask and hides the ribbons in his curly hair. Beside him, Frankie is wearing a perfectly tailored vest of an expensive blue fabric with a shimmering pattern throughout. He leaves his black coat unbuttoned, and his mask matches the vest and accentuates his blue eyes.
Marigold has a masquerade gown she wore a few years ago that she still fits into. It’s almost better fitting now that she fills it out. Her breasts press against the top, making them look even fuller than they are, and her waist is cinched tightly in the corset that she wore over the dress. It is a deep red with orange and gold throughout, and the matching mask is complete with designs of dancing flames. The true jewel of the evening is Lottie with her black satin dress, complete with thick lace that covers her arms and collars her neck. Her green eyes look unmistakably feline behind her intricate mask.
She reaches up to Lottie’s face, her red satin gloves smooth against her cheek. “You are bewitching.”
Lottie laughs. “I should be saying that to you.” Her voice is shaky.
“Nervous?”
She takes Lottie’s hand and whispers to only her, “I will not leave your side. In truth, I will not be able to.”
This year’s theme is apparent upon arrival: le cirque des étoiles, the circus of stars.
Striped tents line the gardens. Bright balloons and ribbons and silks decorate every inch of the grounds. Glittering sculptures of stars and other celestial bodies, all made by Bardshire’s finest, hang from the trees. There are acrobatic dancers, the clown laureate, and a mischievous fortune teller with a dark deck of cards.
Frankie extends his hand. “August, come with me. Let us explore and leave the ladies to their own adventure.”
“Lead the way,” August says, and then Lottie and Marigold are left alone, surrounded by a group of people who do not know who they are. Lottie gets many lingering glances and wanting stares. She looks wicked, seductive, and hungry.
But her eyes are only on Marigold.
“Do you want to know your fortune?” Marigold asks.
Lottie rolls her eyes. “No.”
