Maddox reached over to brush the particles from my head.“You know...one day they’ll see what you’re worth.”
I looked up, startled.His gray eyes were intent on mine, as if he knew what transpired during my appointment with Mr.de Clare.My measuring tape drooped over his chest.I righted it quickly, hoping the sudden warmth that tinged my cheeks didn’t show.I swore never to swoon over him again, especially after theincident.
“And what am I worth?”I said, forcing a smile.
He looked up at the cracked ceiling.“A lot more than this.”
My luck seemed to think otherwise.
Once I had taken his measurements and sketched out the pieces I was going to make him—two shirts, two waistcoats, one coat, and two pairs of breeches—I sent him on his way, disconcerted by the moment of seriousness in his manner.
***
IBEDDED DOWN AFTERtaking my dinner at the inn across the street.It had been a heavy fare of potatoes, meat, and cabbage that left me feeling rather bloated, but I couldn’t refuse the jolly innkeeper who insisted on refilling my plate whenever I was a third of the way through my food.
The building was quiet when I changed into my nightgown and spread my cot on the floor of the back room; it was wearing thin in the middle where my weight had compressed the wool fluff.
I shut the door, plunging the room into darkness, shifted until I was decently comfortable, and pulled a heavy quilt over my head.In the pitch black, I replayed Mr.de Clare’s interview in my head.He had been so dismissive.I had expected disgust or perhaps fear at my witch identity, but indifference?
He hadn’t even seen my work.
I turned to my side.Perhaps the timing was off.Blanche de Clare was as popular as it had ever been.If I had managed to get Mr.de Clare’s attention even three months ago, surelyIwould have a spot in his department store instead of Jeraldine.But would I have been prepared?I didn’t even have a name for my shop.
Giselle’s Dresses?
Dresses of Giselle.
Giselle’s Dress Emporium?
Something with my name and dresses.
I wasn’t cut out to name establishments, clearly.Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be here at all.The quilt was suffocating me.I threw it off my face and inhaled a lungful of cool air.
“Sleep already,” I groaned.
My sleeping habits had been decidedly ruined ever since Crown Prince Bennett and Narcissa’s engagement tour last winter.I had stayed up till dawn countless times pouring over the latest fashion illustrations for the upper class, my mind bursting with new ideas as my hands sewed dress after dress.I had fallen asleep to images of structured traveling coats and riding habits, ball gowns and opera finery.
Now, instead of excitement, I felt adrift.How would I be able to handle sewing anything more complicated than a plain apron while organizing my day, fashioning new window displays as new trends emerged, and scrounging up enough coin to pay rent and send to Christabella?
A chilling thought replaced my worry.Was my best work behind me?
Mrs.Lewis’s muffled footsteps creaked the floorboards above.I tensed, hoping the horrible old woman wouldn’t come down and demand something of me.Perhaps if I hadn’t spent all my money on furnishing my shop as quickly as possible, I would have been able to rent a room at a boarding house, which in hindsight, would have been the smarter option.
Being here in cramped quarters under Mrs.Lewis’s tyrannical rule was no better than being under Ma’s roof in Witch Village.I almost preferred Sonny and Christabella’s bickering over Mrs.Lewis’s footsteps.
I shuddered, sweeping the thought away.Surely I wasn’t missing the place I’d been so determined to leave.
Tomorrow would be a better day.I had Narcissa’s wedding dress to work on, after all.It was going to be the dress that changed my fortune, the dress I would make not as the crown prince’s spy, not as a member of the Witch Committee, not someone who could hypnotize a man or break an enchantment when needed, but as a seamstress.Nothing more, nothing less.
With that happy thought, I closed my eyes.
Only to open them again when a loud crash sounded from above and something blunt hit my arm.The top shelf.
Blazing fires.I reallydidhave rotten luck.
