Page 34 of Baron in Check
Half an hour passed, and Greg had set the papers aside and was gazing out the window. To Hermy, observing quietly, it seemed he was navigating a silent storm of thoughts, each rub of his chin charting a course through troubled waters, searching for a beacon of clarity amidst the fog of contemplation. He was invisible to the seamstresses, but not to Hermy.
“Ouch!” she shrieked when the seamstress pricked her with a needle.
“Pardon, milady. This one needs a few alterations if you’ll take it.”
“No, this has too much ruching here.” Hermy fiddled with the layers of ruffles attached to the bodice along the cleavage. “This tickles.” She lifted her right arm over her head and fiddled with the ruching that continued along the edge of the bodice to the back. “I think this is made for girls without breasts.”
Greg sputtered and then coughed into his fist. Hmm, interesting; he wasn’t all that focused on the chessboard and his thoughts after all.
“Lady Ellsworth, you’ve tried all twenty dresses I brought this morning. None of them suited you.”
“The dresses you brought, Madame Giselle, are not made to suit women. They are the colors of fruit and belong in the bowl on the centerpiece of a buffet rather than at a wedding.”
The older woman gasped, her eyes wide in shock, but Hermy saw Greg shaking in mirth, trying to hide his face behind the ledger he’d been writing on earlier.
Excellent, she was the source of his amusement.
“The apricot suited you so well, lady Ellsworth?—”
“It suits a dish of custard and whipped cream. An orange gown with so much lace is not something I should ever wear with my hair color.”
“What about the mint green one? There’s no fruit in that color!”
“That is the perfect color,” Hermy said seriously, “for the ices at Gunter’s Tea Shop.”
Greg burst out into laughter in the back corner. Hermy remained as serious as she could. Madame Giselle cast an evil look to Greg, and he arched a brow in return.
“And the midnight blue? That’s an excellent color to contrast your complexion.”
“True, it is. But if I make a show of reluctance and marry His Grace in a color suitable for mourning, I’ll be in trouble.”
Madame Giselle put her hands on her hips and puffed indignantly. “What about the cherry red? Will you tell me you belong in a puff pastry?”
“It’s not funny, Madame Giselle. I need a dress for a return to society I don’t want. I need to look my best so the expression on my face is not the first thing people see.”
“And the wedding? You don’t want that either?” Madame Giselle put both hands on her wide hips and gave Hermy a more motherly look than any she’d received even before her mother died.
Through the corner of her eye, Hermy saw Greg lean back and put a hand on either armrest of the chair. He watched her intently now.
“I want the groom more than anything. Marriage is something I’ve dreamed of since I was a girl. The wedding, however?—”
“I understand. It’s another matter. You’re nervous about the wedding night, dear.”
Hermy drew her eyes wide open and looked past Madame Giselle, where Greg was outright staring with visible amusement.
“That’s not it, Madame,” Hermy assured the older woman.
“Let me tell you that there’s nothing to worry about. You will soon enough learn what the duty is. Lie down and let it wash over you. With a beautiful bird like you, it shan’t take too long.”
That was supposed to be reassuring for a virgin bride? Hermy found it terribly sad.
Greg took a wide stance and rubbed the corners of his mouth with his thumb and index finger as if he were trying to massage away laughter. Hermy suppressed a chuckle.
“Lady Ellsworth, I only have one dress left. It’s not even meant for you, it’s very simple in a plain blue fabric.”
“Please let me see it.”
“Lady Ellsworth, for the occasion, I truly believe in the power of color?—”
