Page 3 of Lady Gambit
Miss Darrow gave a bemused grin. “So you’ve never actually met Mr Flynn? When you asked me to deliver a note to him, I presumed he must have had dealings with your brother. That you’d met before.”
“No. I shall leave you to make the introductions.” She gripped Miss Darrow’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough for helping me with this problem. It’s above and beyond what anyone would ask of their modiste, but I hope you see me as a friend. If I can return the favour, all you need do is ask.”
Miss Darrow smiled and patted Delphine’s hand gently. “You might invite me to tea.” Her gaze moved to the door. “Preferably when your brother Theodore is at home. I might add a love potion to his beverage. Having such a man at one’s beck and call must be thrilling. I’d wager there’s never a dull moment in the day.”
Delphine laughed, though she could not imagine Theo pandering to a woman’s whims. “You’d need potions by the dozen to win my brother’s heart.” But if Aramis had found love, there was hope for them all.
The tinkling of the overhead bell drew their attention to the door. Theo strode into the modiste’s shop with his usual confident swagger.
“Now I know why you’re not paid by the hour, Miss Darrow. You spend more time gossiping than sewing on buttons.”
“And what else have you to do, Mr Chance, but play nursemaid?” the modiste said in the same playful manner. “Perhaps you would prefer to wait in your carriage. I will escort Miss Chance out after her fitting. I wouldn’t want you to die of boredom in the chair.”
“You sound keen to get rid of me, madam.”
Delphine’s heart thudded in her chest.
She did not want to rouse Theo’s suspicion.
“Miss Darrow is merely teasing you.” Delphine linked arms with her brother and escorted him to the elegant sofa. The one with a view of the road, not the fitting rooms. “Make yourself comfortable. I shall be no more than half an hour. Then you can take me on a ride around the park. It’s such a beautiful afternoon.”
Hopefully it would remain that way.
Theo snatched the newspaper off the side table. “Today’s edition of theHerald.” He gave Miss Darrow one of his heart-melting smiles. “I’m impressed. You certainly know how to keep a man entertained, Miss Darrow.”
The modiste arched a brow. “If you’re so easily entertained, sir, one wonders why you’re not married.”
His smile died for all of a heartbeat. Was he thinking about the night Lady Lucille Bowman refused his suit and announced her betrothal to a man they all despised?
Quick to fill the awkward silence, Delphine said, “Well, let’s pray we can reach a compromise on the gigot sleeves.” She moved towards the corridor leading to the fitting rooms.“Creating the sloped shoulder is à la mode this season, but I prefer a tailored style.”
Miss Darrow looked on as Theo made himself comfortable and opened his newspaper. “Coffee, Mr Chance?”
Theo’s gaze slid over the modiste’s figure. “Indeed. A man might become accustomed to your hospitality, Miss Darrow.”
“A lady must strive to keep her clients happy, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She turned on her heel and escorted Delphine into the narrow corridor, drawing the thick curtain behind her. “You should undress to your undergarments, or it will look suspicious,” she whispered, pointing to the last door at the end of the hall. “There’s a dressing gown on the chair. It will protect your modesty.”
Her undergarments!
Had Miss Darrow lost her mind?
“I mean to greet Mr Flynn in a professional manner.” She would not have a strange man ogling her stockings. “I want him to take my request seriously. Besides, if Theo finds me in a state of dishabille with Mr Flynn, there’ll be a dawn appointment.”
Miss Darrow appeared oddly disappointed but then jumped to attention as she remembered something. “I’ll fetch the gown I’m working on. It should fit you nicely, though I’m still making alterations to the neckline.”
With little time to spare, Delphine nodded. “Very well.”
The gown in question was not her favoured blue but pale gold silk. It belted at the waist with a pretty diamanté buckle, accentuating her curves. The puffy gigot sleeves fell off the shoulders, the décolleté skimming the upper arch of her breasts.
She stared at her reflection in the looking glass, hardly recognising the woman staring back. Clothes were her armour—a means of protecting herself from criticism. A way of forging an identity when her lineage was questionable. Every pelissehad padded shoulders to create a strong silhouette. Every bodice synched her in, forcing her spine straight.
She studied herself again.
This was not the vision she usually presented to her peers. This was the gown of an optimistic woman. The dress of someone who believed the world was a magical place. A woman who knew men found vulnerability attractive.
Miss Darrow faffed with the skirts and puffed the sleeves.
“I’m not holding court,” Delphine joked, trying to stem her tears. She had never looked so feminine, so unburdened. “One would think Mr Flynn is a member of the nobility.”
