Page 26 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel

“Her name’s Carlotta. She’s also Italian, from Venice, and she barely speaks a word of English.”

A wicked flash of envy stabbed her heart. “Oh.”

“I’ve already arranged a dress for you.”

Ellie frowned. “What?”

His raised his brows. “To wear when you’re Carlotta. I can’t imagine you’ve anything remotely suitable in your own wardrobe. Carlotta wouldn’t be seen dead in cotton. She barely deigns to wear silk.”

For a moment Ellie was too stunned to utter a word. “You’ve bought me a dress suitable for anItalian courtesan?” she said finally. “How? From where? It can’t possibly be the right size.”

“Of course it can. I told Madame Lefèvre to get your measurements from Miss Macdonald. You’re going to look delicious.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“You can,” he said firmly. “It’s a necessary prop for the role you need to play. Unless you trust me enough to go and search Willingham’s house alone…”

Ellie sent him a narrow-eyed glare. He knew exactly how to hook her. There was absolutely no chance she’d allow him free rein without her there to supervise. Heaven knew what mischief he’d get into.

“A provocative dress isn’t going to be enough of a disguise if I see someone I know.”

“Which is why you’ll also make use of the wig I’m having sent over. You said you’ve disguised yourself for past investigations. This is no different.”

“As a maid,” she said hotly. “Or a washerwoman. As people who blend in.Notas someone who makes a spectacle of themselves.”

“I have every faith in you,” he said bracingly. “I’m sure your friends can help you with makeup and such forth.” His eyes twinkled as he sensed her silent, if unwilling, capitulation. “I’ll have it delivered to King and Company tomorrow. Be ready for ten tomorrow night. I’ll come to collect you.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I can’t wear it!”

Ellie gazed down at the emerald-green dress that had been delivered to King & Co. in dismay. It was, almost inevitably, the outrageously beautiful silk gown that she’d seen in the window on Cork Street.

She refused to think of how much Harry had paid to get it adjusted to her particular measurements in such a short space of time. Nor how much it had cost to buy in the first place.

“It’s magnificent,” Tess countered, stroking her fingers over the near-invisible stitching on the bodice. “Madame Lefèvre is a genius.”

“Go on, put it on,” Daisy prodded.

With a helpless sigh, Ellie lifted the garment from its tissue-paper-lined box and stepped into the back office to change.

Ever impatient, Daisy rapped her knuckles on the door after only a few minutes. “Come on, stop hiding in there. Let us see.”

“It’s dreadful,” Ellie moaned. “Even worse than I feared.”

“Doesn’t it fit?” Tess asked through the door. “That’s a surprise. Madame’s usually so—”

“It fitsperfectly,” Ellie wailed.

“And that’s a disaster, how?” Daisy asked, confused.

“Because it’s a scandalous, low-cut, harlot’s dress and I was completely prepared to hate it, and… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn.”

“You like the silk, then?” Tess said drily.

“I never want to wear any other fabric for as long as I live. It’s ruined me for cotton forever. It’s adisaster. I can’t afford to like it.”

Daisy’s snort of amusement echoed through the wood. “Come out, you goose.”