Pale green silk, shot through with a pattern of diamonds in deeper emerald. The cut was dramatic, off the shoulder with tight sleeves. The bodice was surprisingly tasteful and modest, but Cerise would undoubtedly find a way to draw more attention to her bosom. A diamond necklace perhaps. Sparkling goldpiping edged the hem and sleeves, flashing in the light whenever Cerise moved. She looked like a goddess.
“Just magnificent,” Helen breathed, meaning every word. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an exquisite creation. Lord Lowell will be unable to take his eyes from you.”
“I suppose so,” Cerise replied with little excitement. “I must have the correct jewels, of course, don’t you think?” She tapped her lower lip.
“I would suggest something simple, my lady. Nothing to detract from the beauty of the gown or you. A jeweled comb for your hair, perhaps. You’ve one studded with emeralds, do you not?”
“Ah, yes. In the shape of a bird.” Cerise inclined her head in agreement. “And my pendant, I think.”
Cerise had dozens of necklaces. More jewels than any woman needed or could wear in a lifetime. Rubies. Emeralds. Sapphires. Onyx, even.
“You know which one I mean.” Cerise waved a hand impatiently. “Good lord. You recall. The large emerald surrounded by diamonds set in gold.” Cerise traced a line down her chest to the valley of her breasts. “Roxboro admired the stone. It will sit right here.”
“Perfect,” Helen agreed, not caring for the reference to the duke. Hehadadmired the stone.
She kicked aside the thought, ignoring the tingle shooting down her body at remembering the chance meeting of only moments ago. She’d been…so surprised, so much so that the dozens of scathing insults she’d planned to hurl at him in a chilly manner, should he dare approach her again, had deserted her completely.
“Miss Cosgrove.” Cerise brought Helen’s attention back to the fitting room.
“I was only imagining how Lord Lowell will have to fight his way to your side,” she replied, still thinking of Roxboro and wondering how he could be on Bond Street when he was reported to be elsewhere. “He’ll be the envy of every gentleman.”
“That goes without saying, I think.” Cerise fluffed out the silk. “Lowell needs to understand the great honor I do him by agreeing to become his wife.” She studied herself in the mirror. “Of course, Father hasn’t spoken to him yet but—” her shoulders rolled elegantly.
Was Lowell just completely blinded by lust? Besides beauty and breeding, Helen couldn’t fathom the earl’s interest in Cerise. What could they possibly have in common? The girl was lovely to look at but empty, much like an expensive vase one purchases to impress others. Maybe that is really all Lowell wants.
“I’ll be his countess,” Cerise sighed in resignation. “Marrying Lowell has certain advantages.” She pursed her lips. “Some more than others.”
“Lord Lowell is a gentleman,” Helen said. “An earl. Wealthy. Well-respected.”
“All well and good, but his estate.” Cerise stared at herself in the mirror. “Is near The Pillory. Only a few hours ride. Convenient. So, yes.” She smiled, tilting her head. “Lowell is rather perfect.”
“The Pillory?”
Cerise turned to look Helen in the eye. “Roxboro’s estate. We’ll be neighbors, the duke and I. Admittedly, I was incredibly distressed over the news he had wed, but now I see things in a different light. I believe you to be correct.”
“I was?” A horrible, sinking sensation pooled in her stomach.
“Roxboro could not break his betrothal to Lady Sophia. I can see that now. I don’t like it, mind you, but, well, as…neighbors,” the word hovered in the air. “I can visit the duke whenever I like.Lowell is acquainted with Roxboro. I believe they’ve known each other for ages.”
Oh, dear God.
“My lady—” Helen cleared her throat, trying to choose her words with care so as not to set off Cerise who might cause a scene. “Do you think that wise?”
“I only wanted your opinion on the gown, Miss Cosgrove.” Cerise said over her shoulder. “Not anything else.”
Helen clamped her lips together. There was no opinion she could offer that Cerise would appreciate. Her charge was so self-absorbed, so conceited and vain, she would never see reason. What sort of woman weds a decent man like Lowell only so she might dally with a sot of a duke?
Possibly not a sot.Helen had only ever caught a hint of wine on Roxboro, nothing else. Nor had he ever seemed intoxicated. Which was strange, given the gossip.
“Stop frowning, Miss Cosgrove. Whatever you feel the need to say, I suggest for your sake, you remain silent. I can have you sacked with or without my father’s permission,” she trilled. “After thethings you’ve done.”
Helen’s hands curled into fists. She’d done nothing, but Galway would never believe it. Blackmailed by Cerise. Fine, let the girl become a harlot. What did it matter. Once Helen was paid for her services in full, as promised when Cerise was wed, the girl could sleep with every man in London.
Wandering back into the shop, she paused to peruse a selection of ribbon, rubbing the velvet between her forefinger and thumb, fuming all the while. Helen had long ago learned to control her temper; however, today’s events had her struggling to regain her composure. Cerise was a terrible person. But so was Roxboro.
Helen’s heart pinched a bit.
Leaving his new duchess barely days after the wedding. Lurking about in doorways to catch the unsuspecting lady’s companion for the purposes of seduction. Using her for his own jaded amusement.
