Page 59 of A Touch of Charm
Gleaming mahogany shelves lined the walls, each meticulously organized with bolts of the finest silks, satins, and velvets. Their vibrant hues—emerald green, royal blue, and deep crimson—seemed to beckon them closer. Glass-fronted cabinets displayed an array of ribbons, lace trims, and buttons, all arranged with an eye for aesthetic perfection. He hoped this would do for the princess, whether she admitted to her title or not, because she had an air of refinement that Andre was confident not even the finest silks could do justice to.
The floorboards beneath his polished boots creaked softly as he moved deeper into the store, their sound muffled by an exquisite Aubusson carpet stretching the room’s length. Near the rear of the shop, a window seat bathed in afternoon sunlight offered a tranquil spot for customers to peruse sample books. The light filtered through the lace curtains, casting intricate patterns on the hardwood floor, and it struck Andre that all of this was rather too feminine for his comfort.
“You have to tell me how pretty I am!” Mary called from behind Thea, already wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat with fabric flowers and some beads on a wire as fake berries. She threw a beige lace shawl over her shoulder and took Andre’s hand when she was close enough. “Would you like to dance with me, my prince?” Mary’s tiny hand clasped his. Her innocent eyes sparkled with uncontainable joy, starkly contrasting his chest’s sudden tightness.
He swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in his throat as he looked at her earnest face. She pulled him forward with surprising strength, and his feet almost instinctively fell into step with hers. Every muscle in his body tensed, yet a tender smile began to form beneath the surface tension.
He knew Thea was watching him.
It was all rather silly but in good fun.
“You are an excellent dancer, just like my princess,” Mary said, seemingly pleased with herself. Andre had done better, he thought. Before he had to leave his family in Florence, he’d taken lessons with his younger sister. There had been small society balls that his parents attended, and he’d joined them after he turned seventeen.
“Eh-ahem.” A woman in a dark brown dress with a strict bun and spectacles pursed her lips. “I am Madame Duchon,” she declared, positioning herself behind the polished counter. Her posture was as impeccable as her attire. She acknowledged Andre with a warm yet composed smile, her eyes sparkling with professional curiosity. “How may I assist you today?” Her voice was smooth and cultured, and every syllable was pronounced with care.
Thea stepped forward, but Mary let go of Andre before speaking and approached the lady behind the counter. “My governess needs a dress for a princess! Look how pretty she is!”
*
Thea stood inthe dressing room of the elegant shop, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears because she didn’t know if she’d be safe. What if one of List’s people found them? Surely Andre would be close but if they hurt him, too?
Thea’s unease clashed with the décor of the lovely room. Plush velvet chairs, their legs carved with intricate designs, were positioned around the room, offering comfort to patrons as they tried on the latest fashions. Richly embroidered drapes framed the tall windows, which provided a view of the bustling street below. The scent of chocolate and rosewater lingered in the air, adding to the familiar sense of luxury and refinement—but not safety.
The room was obviously designed to cater to the fashionable elite of London. Although she felt mousey in her governess dress, Thea feared being discovered if she gave away how much she knew about the differences between mulberry silk thread counts and the damask designs on the left shelf. She could tell the tiara on the velvet display stand had glass stones set in brass rather than diamonds in gold like hers at home, but she’d left it behind and tried not to be her true self.
No, that wasn’t true.
She wanted to be her true self, not merely the girl carrying the princess title, but the person who’d earned the honor associated with it.
Despite the beauty surrounding her, Thea couldn’t breathe. For once in her life, she had the chance to remain unrecognized however slight. It wasn’t a privilege she ever had when shopping in Vienna, where the anonymity of the Hohenzollerns was impossible.
The walls were framed by mahogany paneling, adorned with delicate floral wallpaper in soft pinks and greens. A large, gilded mirror stood against one wall, reflecting the light from a crystal chandelier, which cast a warm, inviting glow over the room. But Thea shivered inside.
The seamstress pulled a stool over and wore a pincushion, readying the gown Thea had agreed to try on. She felt a pang of loss as she looked down at her sensible woolen dress and thick white stockings. They had been her armor, her disguise, allowing her to blend in and live a life of relative freedom.
“I’m Margaret,” the seamstress said quietly, carrying a magnificent ball gown of deep-emerald silk. Her skilled hands moved with practiced ease as she laid the dress out on a chaise longue, the fabric shimmering in the light. She turned to Thea with a warm smile, and her eyes were kind and understanding.
“Let’s get you ready, Miss—” Margaret said gently, her voice soothing.
“Just Miss Thea, please.” Thea couldn’t allow her surname to be used, von Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen. Her throat tightened as she unbuttoned her woolen dress. She slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, revealing the simple undergarments she wore beneath. The thick white stockings followed, leaving her bare legged and vulnerable. Each piece she shed felt like a piece of her freedom slipping away.
Margaret handed her a petticoat, its layers of soft cotton and lace rustling as she held it out for Thea to step into. As Thea climbed into the layers of tulle, she felt the cushioning surround her, creating a barrier between her and the world outside. It was as if a cleft were forming, separating her from the control she had fought so hard to seize over her own life. The fabric felt familiar but confining, a paradox she couldn’t quite reconcile.
Next came the short stays, a beautifully crafted piece with delicate embroidery. Margaret stretched it out so Thea could slip in. “Take a deep breath, Miss Thea,” she instructed.
Thea complied, inhaling deeply as Margaret pulled the laces of the petticoat tight in the back. A yelp escaped her when she felt the tightness of the stays combined with the bulky petticoat. She’d breathed in to assume her regal stature but felt the pang of losing her freedom as soon as she saw herself in the gilded mirror. Thea held her hair up as it would be pinned into an elaborate upswept coiffure for a ball. And the person she saw was someone she’d wished to outgrow.
And yet, Princess Thea had followed her to London. She wasn’t just Thea. How long could she remain hidden, where even a walk in the park around Cloverdale House had proven dangerous.
The many layers constricted her, forcing her to stand tall and straight. On the outside, she appeared poised and regal, every inch the princess she truly was. But inside, she felt herself crumbling. Each tug of the laces seemed to tighten the grip of her past, the gilded cage of her station closing in around her.
Memories flooded back, unbidden and unwelcome. She remembered standing in front of similar mirrors, dressed in opulent gowns, presented like a polished gem to foreign dignitaries and potential dance partners who would please her father in his business ventures. She had been no more than a political bargaining chip, her desires and dreams secondary to her father’s ambitions and the demands of her title.
Not even secondary, they’d been outright irrelevant.
Margaret finished tying the stays and stepped back, her eyes meeting Thea’s in the mirror. “You look beautiful, Miss Thea,” she said softly, her voice filled with genuine admiration.
Thea managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Margaret,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
