Page 42 of The Lyon Returns
“Very well. Do you think your modiste can manage an evening gown in what amounts to a matter of hours?”
“Never fear, Madame Eloise can work miracles.” She cast Gwen a sidelong look. “The cost, however, will reflect that.”
“I’m on this quest at Gideon’s insistence. He said, in no uncertain terms, to charge everything to him.” She grinned at Amelia who grinned right back. “It’s his own fault if he goes bankrupt outfitting me.”
Sparkling laughter burst from Amelia’s lips. “From what I hear, it will not come to that, dear. Leave everything to me.”
To Gwen’s surprise,the entire process of choosing fabrics, trim, and accessories was not nearly so painful as she had anticipated. In fact, with Amelia to help her, she found she quite enjoyed herself.
More importantly, Madame Eloise assured her she would have a proper gown in time for tomorrow’s meeting with the duke. To that end, Gwen, wearing a nearly complete, pale-blue silk evening dress which Eloise had kept in reserve for just such an occasion, stepped up onto a pedestal facing a three-fold mirror.
“Arms out,” Madame Eloise commanded.
Gwen complied, marveling at the shimmering folds of fabric that caught the light. She had never seen, much less owned, a more beautiful gown.
Eloise held varying colors and widths of trim before Gwen, eyeingthe effect in the mirror until, finally, clucking her tongue in approval, she chose a cream velvet ribbon and matching lace.
“Not too much?” Gwen asked, dismayed. She did not want to ruin the elegant gown with an overabundance of adornment.
Eloise glowered.
Gwen caught Amelia’s silent warning in the mirror and pressed her lips together in contrition.
The modiste went on. “Madame Devereux, we will deliver your gown tomorrow in ze afternoon for ze final fitting.”
Amelia clapped her hands in glee. “What time? The ladies in our club will want to be there.”
Gwen gawked at her over her shoulder. “They will?”
“Wewill,” Amelia answered. “We are your friends, Gwen. Witnessing your transformation for tomorrow night’s event will be almost as much fun for us as it will be for you.”
Madame Eloise exchanged a knowing look with Amelia. “Your friend, she is beautiful, no? But she ’as ’orrible taste in clothing.”
Minutes later, Gwen reluctantly allowed the seamstress to help her out of the pinned gown and back into her gray muslin dress. Before exiting the modiste’s workshop, she flicked a brief glance at herself in the fold-out mirrors. She had to admit, the gray did not flatter her. But then, that had been the point.
“Come,” Amelia said, hand outstretched. “Let us peruse the hair adornments before we leave.”
Back on the shop floor, they joined several women milling about, fingering fabrics, eying merchandise.
Amelia led Gwen to a display of hair combs, away from the other patrons. She surveyed the assorted offerings. “Gwen,” she began in a low voice, “may I ask you about Mr. Devereux?”
Gwen inched nearer, dropping her voice to match Amelia’s. “Of course. What about him?”
“I have never met him. What’s he like?” To Gwen’s amazement,Amelia blushed. She, who never seemed discomfited by anything or anyone.
“He’s…well, he’s quite tall.”
Amelia chuckled. “I’d heard that. It’s more…As I understand it, the women of thehaute ton,especially the widows, and more than few married women who do not worry overmuch with fidelity, find him irresistible.”
“Married women?” she squeaked, appalled.
Amelia sent her an approving look. “I see we are of the same mind concerning the sanctity of marriage, but that is notde rigueuramongst London’s elite.”
“I see.” She absorbed Amelia’s inference. “Are you saying my husband is a willing participant in these extramarital affairs?”
Amelia looked aghast. “Oh, dear. There I go, putting my foot in my mouth. No, not at all. At least, not as far as I know. I more wondered if he’s as…” She glanced over her shoulder.
Gwen saw her magnificent violet eyes widen a fraction.
