“Perhaps,” she said.
But as she reached once more for her tea, her thoughts had already begun to drift ahead of the moment, drawn not to theconversation at hand but to the quiet anticipation of what was to come. It was Cissie who pulled her back with a sudden brightness.
“Shall we go on to the modiste? Only if to see what she has for the moment, we get our invitations to the masquerade.”
The suggestion was met with immediate enthusiasm, chairs shifting, and parasols gathered. Arabella rose with them, smoothing her skirts as they set off together toward the street, the lightness of the afternoon carrying them forward.
CHAPTER 17
The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, the sound nearly lost beneath the layered rustle of fabric and quiet conversation that filled the shop. The air within the modiste’s was warm and faintly scented with starch and pressed silk, bolts of cloth arranged in careful order along the walls, their colors shifting subtly in the filtered afternoon light.
“Miss Barker—no, I must correct myself,” the modiste said at once, appearing from behind a screen with a practiced smile. “Your Grace. How very pleased I am to see you. I do apologize for the incorrect address. It will not happen again.”
Arabella inclined her head, returning the greeting with ease. “You are very kind. We have come only to look, if that is not an imposition.”
“An imposition?” the woman repeated lightly. “Never. One does not refuse a duchess, nor her friends.”
Jane laughed softly as they moved further inside, her gaze already moving over the nearest display. “We shall be very restrained,” she said. “At least for the first five minutes.”
Cissie did not bother to promise as much. She had already crossed toward a table where several lengths of gauze had been laid out, her fingers hovering just above the surface. “You must tell us what has come in recently,” she said. “Particularly anything suitable for a masquerade.”
At that, the modiste’s expression brightened further. “Ah, yes. There has been a great deal of interest in that very subject. If you will allow me?—”
She gestured toward a side room, where additional fabrics had been arranged with more space to examine them. Jane and Cissie followed at once, their conversation rising and falling in quick succession as they disappeared beyond the doorway.
Arabella lingered a moment longer.
“I shall join you directly,” she said, though neither of them paused long enough to answer.
The main room settled into a quieter rhythm as she moved toward one of the display tables, her gloved hand brushing lightly against a length of pale blue silk. The fabric caught the light in a way that suggested movement even in stillness.
“Something for evening wear, perhaps?”
Arabella turned slightly at the voice, offering a polite smile to the assistant who had approached. “I have not yet decided,” she said. “Though I suspect my friends will do so on my behalf if I delay too long.”
The woman smiled in return, then stepped back, allowing her space.
Arabella moved slowly along the table, her attention drifting from one bolt of fabric to the next, though not with any great urgency. There was a quiet to the moment that she found unexpectedly welcome, the absence of immediate expectation allowing her thoughts to settle more easily than they had throughout the day.
She reached the far end of the room before she became aware of the voices.
They were not raised, nor particularly hushed. Simply positioned at a distance that suggested privacy rather than secrecy, carried through the thin partition that separated the main room from a smaller adjoining space.
“I do not say that it is improper,” one voice remarked, measured and composed. “Only that it is… concerning.”
Arabella stilled, her hand resting lightly against the edge of the table.
“Concerning?” the second voice repeated, sharper in tone. “You are being overly generous. It is entirely irregular, and I think we may say as much without fear of contradiction.”
Arabella did not move. The voices did not falter.
“The marriage was concluded in what, a matter of days?” the second woman continued. “Such haste is never without cause.”
“There may have been circumstances we are not privy to,” the first replied.
“There always are,” came the answer, edged with quiet certainty. “That does not make them any less questionable.”
Arabella’s fingers tightened slightly against the wood before easing again. The conversation had not been intended for her. That much was clear. And yet, now that she had heard it, she could not pretend otherwise.
