She bit her lip and thought about the way she felt about Finlay. While she did not have feelings for him as far as love went, he did seem to elicit a certain reaction from her every time he was near. She felt the flush of her cheeks as the images flooded her mind. What would it be like to kiss Finlay Primrose? Certainly he was a better kisser than Gerard. That was hardly a feat.
Gerard’s kisses were sloppy and entirely unromantic. How the louse had a constant stream of women parading through their house, she had naught idea.
Mayhap kisses were supposed to be sloppy. She did not know. Mayhap she would never find out.
“My lady, the carriage awaits to bring ye to the modiste,” Joan said excitedly.
“Well, then. I suppose we shouldna leave the coachman waiting, should we?”
“I have ne’er been to the modiste before, my lady. I have always wanted to. Just…” she let the sentence hang in the air unfinished.
“Sweet Joan. I am happy to remedy that for ye today.” Joan had been so kind to her. She made a note to talk to the modiste in private and request that she make a gown for Joan. It was unorthodox, she knew. But mayhap one day her maid would find use for it.
The modiste shop was in the center of the city. The tan brick building was three stories high and narrow, with a huge white awning and accents decorating the front. The thick door was made of oak and creaked when Madame Boulet swung it open and welcomed them inside.
The short woman was bright-eyed with plump cheeks and a kind smile. Barely reaching Willamina’s shoulders, what the woman lacked in height she made up for with her huge personality.
“Welcome, my lady. I hear that ye are planning a wedding and are in need of a gown.” Madame Boulet stood back and assessed Willamina from head to toe.
She blushed from the scrutiny.
“Lord Primrose is a lucky man. Now, would ye care for a cup of tea before we get started?”
Willamina shook her head. “Nay, thank ye.” She didn’t think her stomach could handle it.
“All right, then.” Madame Boulet clapped her hands together and looked about the room. “Where would we start first?”
Willamina shrugged. She really had no idea.
“Do ye have a design in mind?”
Willamina worried her lower lip as she wrung her hands in her lap. She did not, but was she supposed to have? She supposed when women arrived at a modiste for a wedding gown that they had some sort of inkling as to what said dress should look like.
She did not have a clue. Even with her marriage to Gerard she had no say in her wedding gown. It was an abomination that her mother had chosen and it did not fit Willamina’s style at all. Not that she was even sure what her style was, but she at least knew that monstrosity was not it.
Seeing her distress, Madame Boulet smiled warmly. “No need to fret, my lady. I have many designs here that ye canreview, and if there is something ye dinna see, just let me know. I can customize anything ye want.”
“That is verra kind of ye. However, I dinna have a lot of time for such customization.”
The modiste dismissed her statement with a wave of her plump hand. “Nonsense. I am aware of your timeline. My schedule has been cleared, thanks to your dear husband to be, so let us get started.”
She walked to a wardrobe taller than the one Willamina had in her room at Buckwood Manor and pulled the doors open. She extracted several gowns and brought them over to hang on a high rail set into the wall. “Do any of these catch your eye, my lady? Ye are welcome to come touch them. Dinna be scared.”
It was not that Willamina was scared. She was overwhelmed by everything she was being presented with. For her first marriage, she did not have a say in what her gown looked like. It was purchased without her insight and she was told that she would wear it and smile, no matter what.
But, here, she had multiple dresses at her fingertips, and more if she did not find any of these satisfactory. Several shades of white stared back at her. Different materials of satin, silk, lace, everything Willamina could dream of was on display.
One of the gowns seemed to call her name. It was ivory with a satin bodice. A violet lace overlay ran down the middle front all the way through the bodice and skirt to the floor.
“Ah ha. I know that look.” Madame Boulet said, pointing a knowing finger at Willamina. “I see your eyes are drawn to this beauty. ’Tis lovely, I admit. Shall we try it on?”
“Now?”
The modiste laughed. “Of course, my lady. How else will ye know if this is your gown or no’? Or how it fits.”
A few long moments later, Willamina stood in front of the mirror, the gown accentuating her body in all the right places.The violet played off her skin tone perfectly. Madame Boulet appeared with a lace veil, with violet highlights that matched the design of the lace overlay, and pinned it into her hair.
Willamina could only stare. And for a moment, she wondered if Finlay would like it.
