Page 17 of The Baron Takes a Bet
Gavin tilted his head, his hazel eyes looking her up and down before he spoke.
“Are you a gambler?” he asked. “I mean to say, have you ever gambled before?”
“No,” she said pointedly. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” he said, a self-satisfying grin on his lips. Holly turned to leave when he spoke again. “Good day, Holly.”
Thankfully, she was already halfway out of the room when he said her name. Her eyes closed at the sound of his voice, and she did indeed scurry away, needing to be out of his presence immediately.
There was something startingly familiar about Gavin, she thought as he made her way to her rooms. She felt a sort of kinship with him, as ridiculous as that sounded. It was more than just his ability to look on the bright side of things. There was a loneliness behind his smiling eyes that she recognized in herself and though she would never admit it, she found an odd comfort in knowing that he felt lonely as well.
But Holly could not,would notlet him distract her. The coming season was at the forefront of her mind, and she decided to discuss the dress matter with Katrina over breakfast the following day.
The dining room was a long, somewhat narrow, south-facing room with pale pink wallpaper decorated with a bluebird and cherry blossom pattern. It was one of Holly’s favorite rooms and had been the first one she had redecorated last summer when John had insisted that she help him.
It had been an odd request and Holly hadn’t wanted to be too opinionated, but John had very much wished for her to style it in her own tastes, insisting that he always trusted her style, and eventually Holly had relented.
It had been a great deal of fun, choosing wallpapers and fabrics, not worrying about the cost of any of her choices. Out of all the rooms in Kingston House, the dining room was certainly one of the most cheerfully decorated.
That morning, a seasonal serving of strawberries and cream, poached eggs, toast, pound cakes, tea, and cocoa had been laid out on the white linen table. A fresh bouquet of orange tulips had been cut from the spring garden. It made Holly sorry that she hadn’t been able to have something so lovely at Felton Manor for so long, but she was grateful to be a part of it here.
She sat at the table across from Katrina, who was flipping through the same fashion pamphlets that Holly had dropped off in her room last night. Apparently, her sister hadn’t put them down since.
“I quite like this one,” she said, pointing to an illustration of a white bodice gown with a periwinkle blue underskirt and a sheer overlay. “But this one is lovely too. This Miss Piedmont certainly is a talent.”
“Miss Piedmont?” Holly repeated with a frown. She had deliberately tried to push Katrina toward Mrs. Bean’s plates as they were less expensive.
“Yes. It must have fallen out of your letters. I found it on the ground, peeking out from beneath the table in the library.”
“Oh,” Holly said, pouring herself a cup of tea. “Well, Miss Piedmont is quite costly.”
“But look at this one. It’s exquisite.”
Holly glanced up as Katrina held up the pamphlet.
“Yes, it is. But maybe you can try something from Mrs. Bean’s collection.”
Katrina frowned.
“But hers are so old fashioned.” She looked down at the other pages that covered the table. “Can we not afford a dress or two from Miss Piedmont’s shop, now that you’re the lady of the house?”
The familiar pinch in Holly’s shoulders returned.
“It’s not that simple. The baron is already helping restore Felton Manor. I should hate to ask for more, particularly when there are a number of other dressmakers who make good enough gowns.”
“But ‘good enough’ isn’t going to get me a husband of standing. And the baron did promise to honor his uncle’s wishes.”
“Yes, but I’m… afraid to ask, I suppose.”
“Why should you be afraid to ask for money?” Katrina asked, taking a sip of her tea. “It is yours too, isn’t it?”
Holly gave her sister a wry smile.
“Keep that opinion to yourself when searching for a husband this season, my dear,” Holly murmured. “Besides, we have plenty of material to create a trousseau for you.”
Katrina took another sip, somewhat dejected.
“I was looking forward to going to a real London modiste.”
