Page 57 of The Lyon Returns
Her friends sat in chairs one of the footmen had graciously arranged in a semi-circle. They sipped tea, nibbled cakes, and oohed and awed over the many gowns Madame Eloise had brought for Gwen’s fitting. Day dresses, morning gowns, evening gowns, plus one silk dressing wrapper and nightgown.
“I still cannot quite believe you managed to not only finish my dress for tonight, but fashioned so many others for today’s fitting, Madame Eloise.”
From behind her, Amelia spoke up. “I told you Madame Eloise could work miracles, did I not?”
Lady Harriet chimed in. “I knew when Gwen came to me in urgent need of a new gown for her first meeting with the Duke ofAshwood—”
“And let’s not forget the duchess,” Charlotte interjected.
Lady Harriet inclined her head and carried on. “That a visit to Amelia would set matters right.”
Lady Georgina grinned at Gwen. “Thank goodness Mr. Devereux made the suggestion. To be honest, dearest Gwen, whoever chose the dresses you arrived with appears to have been somewhat color-blind.”
Gwen felt her cheeks heat. She had been aware her wardrobe did not suit her. That had been the point. But admitting as much now would introduce a topic she would rather never discuss.
Georgina went on. “These fabrics and colors, especially the blues and pale greens, complement your fair complexion so well.”
“It’s more than the coloring,” Margaret said. “The cut of the new gowns, even half-sewn, flatter your lovely figure, whereas the ones you came to us with…” She sniffed meaningfully, evidently deciding no more words were necessary.
“Yes, well, I suppose I was due.” Gwen held herself motionless as the seamstress pinned the butter-cream evening gown she currently wore, tightening her unadorned bodice so that her breasts appeared more prominent.
What did you expect? Your manner, your way of dress. You practically offered yourself to me, and don’t deny it.
The unpleasant memory flashed in her mind. She bit her lip. “Do you not find this bodice a bit low?”
“No,” came several vehement replies. Gwen could not say which of her friends had spoken. Perhaps all of them.
Madame Eloise approached, hands on hips. “Madam, I do not mean to offend, but you ’ave come to us from a very, very backward village, no?”
Gwen pressed her lips together. It seemed everyone had formed the impression from her unfashionable clothing she came from a backwoods town.
A knock sounded on the door. A servant coming to check on theirrefreshments, no doubt. “Come,” Gwen called.
The door swung open.
A profound silence ensued. None of the ladies in the room spoke, no china cups clattered, no cart wheeled in or out. Even the seamstress had frozen in place.
Gwen half-turned on the stepstool to eye the doorway. Her face bloomed with heat when she saw who hovered in the threshold, motionless, and staring at her as if she were an apparition rather than a flesh and blood woman. She gave herself a mental shake. This would not do.
“Good afternoon, Gideon. Would you like to come in and meet everyone?”
She could have bitten out her own tongue. Come in and meet everyone, indeed, as she stood in the center of the room on a pedestal, not exactly clothed.
His gaze did a slow and thorough sweep of her. “I-I…” He stammered, then said nothing more. His already vital complexion darkened.
“Ouch,” the seamstress crouching near her hemline intoned.
Gwen wasn’t sure what caused the outburst, whether she’d pricked her finger, or whether it had something to do with Madame Eloise who’d sidled close.
Whatever the case, the seamstress went back to work and Gideon recovered from his inexplicable stupor. “I came to advise you about what time we shall leave tonight before diving into some paperwork that promises to tie me up for hours. I’m afraid I shall have to meet your friends another time.”
“Of course,” Gwen murmured.
He started to shut the door, then opened it again. “Seven,” he blurted.
“Seven?”
“The hour we’ll depart for Grosvenor Square.”
