Page 41 of Crown of Thorns
“I agree,” Maeve says.
“It’s twenty feet!” I gasp. “I’ll barely be able to walk as it is.”
“I believe in you,” Maeve says with a wink. “Besides, Diana of England’s was twenty five feet. I think we can at least do that.”
“Yes, yes,” Phillipe says excitedly.
“Besides, you’ll change into something simpler and more comfortable for the party.”
“As her maid of honor, I’d love to see Princess Dahlia in simple, pink satin with a champagne overlay. It’s a gorgeous old fashioned style and still modest enough for an abbey wedding,” Maeve says.
“Oh, I just love that one,” Dahlia says with a happy sigh. “I have just the perfect pair of pink satin heels in mind.”
“We could do some hand stitching in an art deco pattern that would enhance the dress but not outshine our beautiful bride,” Phillipe says.
I wish she would outshine away, but the world would only say more terrible things about her and at this juncture, I know she’d like to just blend in.
“Going back to the train,” I but in. “How am I supposed to walk?”
“We’ll practice, darling,” Dahlia says. “We’ll have to break in our shoes anyway.”
“Sounds good,” I reply knowing if I just give in, it’ll all go much smoother. And the dress is trulybeautiful. “It really is lovely.”
“Now for your party dress,” Phillipe says. “I brought something that I think was made for you, even though I did not know it at the time. May I show you?”
“Of course.”
He jumps up and pulls a garment bag from a brass rack with a flourish. His assistant rushes over to take the bag from him so that Phillipe can unzip it and swing the fabric cover away. We all gasp because he’s right, the dress is gorgeous.
In my old life, this probably would have been my dream wedding dress. It’s a cream satin gown with hints of gold in its undertone. A corset style top with fitted cups and a Basque waist with thick straps that narrow as they attach to the bodice of the dress. The skirt is a full ballgown with pleats and gathers where it tucks under the bodice. Satin covered buttons trail up the back like little soldiers in a row.
I love it.
“Would you like to try it on, your grace?” he asks. “I guessed, but I am very good at that. Though I think it will need just a bit of taking in here and there, yes?”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
Maeve takes the dress in her hands and ushers me into my dressing room. She helps me strip down, out of the slacks and blouse that I was wearing for our meeting, down to just my lace panties because the gown has a built in bra. She holds it open for me to step in and then pulls it up my body. I slip my arms into the straps,and she does up the buttons with deft fingers.
“Don’t look here,” she says. “I had a big mirror and a tailor’s box brought in the other room for today. It’ll ruin the effect if you look now.”
“All right.” I laugh.
Maeve feels like the closest thing to a mother I’ll ever have while getting married. Rhys’s and mine are both dead and his stepmother is a monster.
I walk back out into the sitting room and Phillipe jumps up clapping. “I was right, was I not? It was made for you.”
“Yes, it was,” Dahlia softly says while tears glimmer in her beautiful blue eyes.
“I have just the thing!” Maeve calls out as she runs back into the dressing room. A moment later she comes out with a pair of cream satin pumps and a cropped angora sweater. “Try these on.”
She hands me the shoes and I slip them on my feet. They match the dress perfectly. The sweater is just a tiny bit lighter in color than the gown and gives it a softer feel.
“If you feel a chill, you can put the sweater on but I don’t think it needs it,” she says.
“I like it all,” Dahlia says. “What do you think?”
“I love it.”
