That’s better. Hate me.
She turned and stomped back into the closed-off dressing area at the back where a seamstress waited to assist her. The shop had been shut to the public this morning at his request.
Mrs. Allen spoke. “I am a little uncomfortable with this arrangement, Your Grace.”
He answered in a barely voiced whisper, “I told you not to call me that.”
“She can’t hear us, I assure you.”
“Nonetheless, I am Captain Pike, Mrs. Allen. Or Mr. Pike.”
“Yes, Captain Pike.”
“Thank you for doing this. The appointment, everything.”
“You know you can have what you like from me and from the shop.”
He waved his hand as if to brush her words away.
“Tell me, Captain Pike,” Mrs. Allen said carefully, “what you envision for the countess.”
“I don’t know. But not that.”
“What color have you seen her in that you like?”
“Blue.”
“What kind of blue?”
“I don’t know. Blue blue.”
“The color of the lady’s eyes?”
“I don’t know. No, I do. The color of the sky on a perfectly clear spring day. After it has rained the day before. And it’s windy. Have you ever been to Scotland?”
“No. But I spent one summer when I was young in Yorkshire. I think I know what you mean. It’s not a harsh blue . . .”
“No . . .”
“But it’s not fair to call it a soft blue either. Because it’s so full of color.”
“Yes. And the dress is not to have . . .” He gestured with his hands around his neck and chest.
“Too much decoration.”
“Yes,” he grunted.
“But the lady is quite slender. Everywhere. A few ruffles give the illusion of fullness.”
“I don’t want illusion.”
“But the lady might.”
Jack paused. “Ask her.”
“I will. And I still don't quite understand. Is the dress to be a ballgown, an afternoon dress, what?”
Jack didn’t know. Helen thought she was buying the dress to meet the Duke of Dunmore. How had Helen imagined meeting the duke? At a ball? At a private appointment at his house because she was his neighbor and it would be a meeting between two nobles whose lands adjoined? During a stroll or a carriage ride in Hyde Park?
