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CHAPTER ONE

“Dizzy love, our first appointment is due soon.”

Mrs. Miriam Oldstone raised the shades of the windows of Viellepierre, a popular modiste for the demimonde.

Lighting the lamps, she spritzed perfume into the air, on the curtains and cushions and around the doorways, creating the rich, sensual atmosphere her shop was known for.

Mistresses, opera dancers, courtesans, all would arrive soon, some with their protectors, and Madame Viellepierre (as she was known to her clients) would be ready for them with coffee and biscuits, or brandy and cheroots, whatever they required.

Her clientele were exclusive and though she had opportunities to move her business to more respectable patrons, she preferred her life with the ladies she served.

She knew what they wanted, and knew how to provide it.

However, it was not what she wanted for her daughter.

Miss Desdemona Oldstone, newly returned from France after apprenticeships with several modistes, descended the stairs with cards of lace and buttons. “I finished the ruffles last night, mama. I also have my samples from Madame Giselles.”

“Wonderful, Dizzy.” She took up several fans and waved them through the clouds of perfume, gathering fragrance into the silk.

“Just put them there in the basket.” Setting the fans aside, she picked up one of the cards and smiled.

“You could easily sell these to any of the more respectable shops, love. With your talent, there would be a bidding war for you.”

“Perhaps,” Dez replied. “But they would not give me a place to live, or feed me, or find my favorite chocolate, or love me like you do.” She drew her mother into a quick embrace.

“My place is with you, and if my talent can bring more coin to us, that’s all I want.

” She drew the chairs away from the door and set them in places near the windows and the pattern books.

The drapes to the fitting area were drawn to one side, and Des pulled the box of sweet biscuits and pastries from under the counter and arranged them on a tray.

“But you could have so much more.” Miriam took her seat near the counter and arranged the broadsheets on the table in front of her. “Your father has offered to introduce you to his wife’s modiste. You could meet a respectable family, perhaps even marry…”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, mama?” Dez smiled as she spoke.

“Of course not,” Miriam replied. “But you deserve a home and a husband and children…”

“Mama…” Dez chided.

“I’m just saying your father has business associates who would make splendid husbands, if you would just meet them,” Miriam started.

“You mean old men that would love to curry favor with Father by courting and marrying his illegitimate daughter.” Dez sighed then. “After all, it’s always helpful to have the ear of a duke.”

“It’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor man.”

“And it’s even easier to not look for love at all.” Dez poured her mother a cup of coffee.

“Just because your father and I never married…”

“Because you were unacceptable for a Duke, even though your grandfather was a viscount,” Dez finished. “I’m not only a commoner, but a low-born one as well.”

Any other conversation was cut off by the tinkling of the bell over the door. Their first appointment had arrived.

Lord Ambrose Silvers, second son of the Marquess of Linden, held the door for his companion, Mrs. Alice Bowmar.

His mistress requested he come to her fitting appointment this morning.

Normally he would have declined, but she asked quite prettily the night before, kneeling in front of his chair wearing only perfume. He agreed after an enjoyable encounter.

Entering the shop, the scent of roses drifted in the air, subtle but effective. He nodded at Madame Viellepierre and handed his coat and hat to her young assistant before taking a seat near Alice. Accepting a cup of coffee, he picked up one of the newspapers spread across the table next to him.

Alice eyed Desdemona with suspicion before turning her attention to her modiste.

They discussed the gowns she’d commissioned and moved on to several pieces of lingerie for her boudoir.

As she reached for one of the fashion plates, Desdemona noted her bracelet and remarked, “How lovely. Sapphires suit you. I know just the thing for that particular gem.” As she hurried to the back room, Ambrose grasped Alice’s wrist, studying the jewels.

“What an unusual bracelet, Alice. I don’t remember giving you this…” Ambrose said.

Alice’s eyes widened, color leeching from her face.

“Of course you did, darling,” she insisted.

“You give me so many pretty things, you’ve probably forgotten.

” He turned his gaze on her, questioning.

She pulled her hand out of his grip and ran her fingertips down his cheek.

“I’ll remind you of my gratitude when we’re finished. ”

Desdemona returned carrying a bolt of indigo silk shot with silver thread. “This would match your bracelet perfectly,” she said, draping the silk over her arm. Holding up a specific plate, “This in that color would look stunning.”

Alice glared at her, “I’d never wear such a gaudy gown, you idiot.”

“I quite like it,” Ambrose said, his attention back on his mistress.

Alice glanced back at him, surprised, then smiled widely. “If you like it, darling, then of course I’ll get it.” Glaring again at Desdemona, she snarled, “That will be all.”

Desdemona blinked and smiled, confused. “As you wish,” she answered, handing the fabric bolt to her mother before turning her attention to Ambrose. “My lord, would you care for any additional refreshment?”

“No, he doesn’t” Alice answered shortly. “Now go away.”

Ambrose raised an eyebrow at Alice then turned to Desdemona, “Thank you, miss. I will ring if I wish for anything else.” He smiled at her, pulling Alice’s attention to him, then back to Desdemona.

Des curtsied to his lordship, then headed into the storeroom.

Ambrose watched her leave, appreciating the slim ankles barely visible from the hem of her dark skirts.

Her dark hair was pulled back under a white kerchief, then tumbled in waves and curls down her back past the rounded curve of her bottom.

Her eyes were dark as well, the color of strong coffee.

She had a sweet smile, almost innocent (if one believed an innocent would work at a shop patronized by the demimonde).

Only the insistent coughs of his mistress turned his attention back to Alice.

“I was saying you love me in pink, and I think this style would look fantastic, don’t you agree?”

He looked at the plate and barely held his amusement in check.

The gown, if you could call it that, was little more than a scrap of silk with ribbons barely holding it in place.

She would be more covered in a bandage. “Whatever you wish,” he said dismissively, still mentally cataloging the jewels he’d given her.

Ambrose never gave her blue gems. Alice preferred reds and pinks, insisted on them. Which meant she’d gotten the bracelet from someone else.

This displeased him.

He demanded fidelity from his mistresses and would dismiss them if evidence ever proved disloyalty to him. They were employees, and as employees, he required them to devote their time and energy to him and him alone. Any deviation would be tantamount to theft. And he hated thieves.

Quietly pulling his card case out of his pocket, he set in on the chair next to him before turning his attention back to his newspaper.

Occasionally he would entertain Alice with a nod, but she’d lost his interest by displaying that bracelet.

Without proof, he’d terminate her contract and she’d be out of the house he’d let for her by the end of the month.

With proof, she’d be out tonight with no resources but whatever she saved from their dalliance.

Perhaps the bracelet-giver would offer her their protection.

Either way, he no longer cared.

The appointment was coming to a close and the modiste rang for her assistant.

The younger woman returned, carrying a basket of lace and buttons that she set on the counter before retrieving Ambrose’s hat and coat.

Alice practically pushed the woman aside to take his arm, glaring at her as if she were marking her territory.

It would have been endearing if she hadn’t stirred his suspicion.

As it was, he was merely amused. He nodded to the modiste then to her assistant and opened the door to escort his mistress out.

Once on the sidewalk, he let her walk a few steps before patting his pockets.

“One moment, my dear. I seem to have dropped my card case.” He turned back to the shop, and held his hand up when she moved to follow him.

“I’ll just be a moment, and I’ll meet you at the drapers.

” Giving her a wolfish smile, he headed back into the shop.

Des was surprised to see his lordship back so quickly. “Did you forget something, my lord?” she asked.

He walked over to the chair and picked up his card case. “Must have dropped out of my pocket.” He glanced back at the door then to Desdemona. “The blue thing, how quickly can you have that ready?”

She gave him a puzzled look. “My lord?”

“I’d like that blue silk thing you recommended ready tonight. Is that possible?”

“Perhaps, are you certain…” she started.

“I’ll pay twice the cost for your assistance,” he said.

Desdemona blinked then nodded. She’d already cut the silk for the night rail. It wouldn’t take long to finish it. And the additional money welcome. “I can have it done this afternoon, my lord.”

“Excellent!” he said, smiling widely. “I shall return this evening at six, if that is convenient.”

She nodded. “That will give me plenty of time to finish, my lord. Do you or your lady have any preferences for the trim?”

He shook his head. “Nothing too itchy.” He waved his hand over towards her basket. “Whatever lacy things go with such an article will suffice.” Pocketing his card case, he took her hand and bowed over it, then exited the shop, leaving her wavering between amused and confused.