But of course, she couldn’t say so. Instead, she offered Lady Tremblay a polite nod. “Is there, indeed? How fortunate for me. I’ll be sure to ask Madame Céline all about it.”
“You do that, my dear. Come along, Laetitia.” Lady Tremblay took Laetitia’s arm and gestured imperiously at the footman waiting patiently behind her. “Come, James.”
They sailed off without a backward glance, with James staggering along behind them.
She waited until they were gone, then hurried back to the window and peered out into the covered walkway in hopes she might find Cass there again, but there was no dark head towering above the rest of the crowd.
He was gone.
All at once, all the pleasure she’d been taking in the day vanished with him.
She wandered around the shop in search of Lady Fosberry, but she found only Aimée, who’d gone back to sorting her ribbons. She looked up when Hattie approached and offered her a smile. “Lady Harriet, there you are. Lady Fosberry has been asking for you. Follow me, please.”
Lady Fosberry was enthroned on a white silk settee in a private little room at the back of the shop, watching as Sarah turned this way and that in front of an enormous looking glass. “Oh my, yes. Yes, that will do very well.”
“Sarah?” Hattie gasped. “My goodness!”
Tears pricked her eyes as she gazed at her youngest sister whose health the entire family had once despaired of.
There was no trace of Sarah’s childhood illness now. She was pink-cheeked and radiant and terribly grown up as she gazed into the glass, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was her own reflection staring back at her. “Is it all right?”
“All right? My dear child, it’s a good deal better than that.” Lady Fosberry nodded with satisfaction. “That shade of pale pink is utter perfection on you, Sarah.”
“Hattie?” Sarah turned toward her, the silk skirts rustling. “What do you think?”
Good God, but she was going to cry. She was going to burst into tears right here inLe Maison des Dames. She drew closer and took Sarah’s face in her hands. “I think you look beautiful, Sarah.”
“Thank you,” Sarah whispered, and pressed a kiss to Hattie’s cheek before turning back to the glass with a soft sigh.
“I believe we’ve found something for Margaret, as well. It’s the most delicious shade of primrose imaginable. She looks like an angel in it.”
Margaret was an angel, so that made perfect sense. “I’m sure she does. Lady Tremblay advised me to ask Madame Céline about a gown she’s set aside back here. I daresay whatever it is, it will prove uniquely unflattering.”
“No doubt Lady Tremblay thinks so. I’ve already seen the gown. Madame Céline made it for Lady Laetitia, but she rejected it on the grounds that it’s not the right shade of blue. It errs on the side of Prussian blue, and Lady Laetitia wanted Celestial blue.”
“Every young lady in London wants Celestial blue.”
“Indeed, because it flatters everyone, whereas only ladies of a certain complexion can wear Prussian blue. Ladies like you, for instance.”
“Prussian blue? Isn’t that shade too bright to be proper for a young lady?”
Lady Fosberry waved this away. “My dear Hattie, you’d be amazed at how quickly propriety gives way to vanity.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just this. When a gown flatters a lady, no one cares a whit about the rules. Perhaps it’s not strictly appropriate for your first ball, but this is London, my dear. Beauty and fashion override all else.”
“But why would Lady Tremblay suggest a gown that will flatter me? She’s made no secret of her dislike.”
“No, Josephine isn’t at all subtle, is she? Come here, dear, and sit down.” Lady Fosberry patted the place next to her on the settee. “Bright shades wash Laetitia out, you see. No doubt Lady Tremblay thinks it will do the same to you.”
Hattie plopped down onto the settee. “You don’t agree?”
“I do not. I have an inkling, Hattie, that you’ll be utterly devastating in Prussian blue.”
