Page 17

Victoria

I n short order, I found myself seated in Moreland’s carriage.

Apparently, it was now my carriage. I couldn’t see myself wanting to leave the house on my own, but Moreland informed me I would be safe with the driver.

The two footmen who accompanied the carriage were also responsible for ensuring my safety.

Despite his assurances, I knew we were at risk out in the open. I told myself that Father wouldn’t cause a scene by attempting a public hijacking and tried to force myself to relax. It helped that Moreland was seated across from me.

The curtains at the windows were closed, save for the one on the carriage’s door. I leaned back against the cushions so a casual observer wouldn’t see me.

With nothing else to look at, I examined Moreland. His arms were folded across his broad chest, his gray eyes dark in the carriage’s interior. He watched me with what could only be called intense scrutiny.

I kept my hands clasped loosely on my lap. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I didn’t think you would. You are most definitely Rexford’s sister.”

I shrugged. “We were raised to be resilient. Of course, Father also wanted us to remain obedient to him. Clearly, he failed there.”

Moreland said nothing to that.

I sighed. “It seems such a waste to go shopping for new dresses when I’ve already ordered so many. My wardrobes at home are filled to bursting.”

A gleam entered Moreland’s eyes. “I don’t think any of the gowns you purchased for your debut in society would suffice for this particular assembly.”

My mind blanked momentarily, but then I realized he was right.

I wouldn’t be attending a proper ball, nor would I need to limit myself to wearing demure, maidenly gowns.

I’d always been drawn to the brightly colored gowns that married women could wear.

And I’d seen more than a few necklines that were cut quite low.

I glanced down at my modest bosom. “I don’t think even the lowest neckline would make my décolletage very appealing.”

When I looked up, Moreland was staring at my chest. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I couldn’t believe I’d said such a thing aloud. And in front of him, no less.

He cleared his throat, then and looked away. “I’m sure that won’t be an issue.”

I smiled at the implied compliment. I wasn’t well-endowed, but perhaps Moreland didn’t care about that.

I winced inwardly at the absurd turn my thoughts had taken.

I was his mistress in name only. I knew I was pleasing to the eye, but I also knew that much of my appeal lay in the fact that I was the Duke of Sherbourne’s daughter.

Many men wanted to align themselves with me for that connection. Moreland, however, would suffer for it.

It struck me then that I was being incredibly selfish. He’d assured me he wasn’t concerned about what my father could do to him, but I couldn’t help but worry. I started to stand, and in that moment, the carriage swayed.

Moreland reached out to steady me, his hands on my hips. “What are you doing?”

He released me, and I moved to sit next to him. It felt natural being so close to him. Despite our short acquaintance, I was at ease in his presence.

“Father will do everything in his power to ruin you.” My voice was low.

He shrugged. “He can try.”

“You’re in danger, and I’m being selfish. Say the word, and I will put an end to this.”

We were both turned slightly on the bench seat, our bodies facing one another.

He reached out to take my hands. “No.”

“But—”

He covered my lips with a finger. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. And your brother assures me he posted extra security around us.”

He grimaced at that last bit, while relief flooded me.

“You don’t approve?”

He leaned back, his arms folded across his chest again, and scowled. “I can take care of myself.”

I couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, he resembled a recalcitrant little boy. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t hurt to be prudent.”

I wanted to say more, but the carriage slowed. A quick glance out the open window showed we were on Bond Street. Even worse, we were drawing to a stop in front of Madame Argent’s shop.

I shook my head. “We can’t go in there. I came here for my dresses for the season. Everyone of import is dressed by her. What if we’re seen?”

He lifted one brow, and I wanted to groan at my own idiocy. Of course, that was the point. I was supposed to be seen. But still, the thought of walking into that dress shop, where people I’d met over the last month might turn their backs on me… It made my stomach turn.

“I don’t think I’m ready for such a public display of my ruination,” I admitted.

His gaze softened. “The shop is closed today.”

“But—”

“The dressmaker keeps special hours for other clientele.”

I couldn’t stifle my gasp. “Madame Argent clothes the demimonde?”

He shrugged. “Apparently.”

My eyes narrowed on him. “Do you take all your female companions here?”

He’d told me that he’d never had a mistress, but the question slipped out before I could examine the impulse. An irrational jealousy had me imagining him escorting a long line of beautiful women here.

His gaze met mine directly. “Why on earth would I need to escort a woman to a dressmaker? And you already know I’ve never had a mistress.”

I had nothing to say to that, but his reassurance eased my concerns. It was an odd reaction since we both knew I wasn’t actually his mistress.

“Your brother, with his numerous resources, gave me this information. The timing aligned, so I thought it best to handle the matter right away. The seamstress will need time to sew the garments.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Please, whatever you do, do not call Madame Argent a seamstress to her face. She might accidentally stab you with her shears.”

His eyes lit with merriment. “Thank you for the warning.”

Moreland climbed down from the carriage first, then turned to me. “Take the cloak,” he instructed, gesturing to the garment I hadn’t even noticed he’d placed on the bench beside me.

I was glad for his foresight. It was afternoon now, and the streets were filled with people. If I drew the hood and kept my face down, I could hide my identity from curious onlookers.

After helping me down, he offered his arm. I took a deep breath and peeked up at the building before us. I could do this. If Madame Argent provided her skills to members of the demimonde, then she could be trusted to be discreet.

I slid my hand through his arm and allowed him to lead the way. To my surprise, instead of taking me to the front door of Madame Argent’s shop, he turned to the left and knocked on the door of the building next to it.

This building had no signage or glass window on the front. I’d never paid attention to it before.

The door opened, and we were admitted by a young man in his late teens. I recognized him vaguely and recalled hearing that he was Madame Argent’s son.

Was this her home? It made sense that she would live close to her shop.

We passed through a small entryway and into another dressmaker’s shop, one vastly different from her shop next door.

It lacked the refined elegance of her main store and instead was vibrant, bursting with color.

Unlike her other store, the display of undergarments was out in the open, mere steps from the entrance.

Heat rose to my cheeks when I realized that Moreland would see them as well.

Madame Argent greeted us herself, sweeping into the room from what I assumed was an adjoining door that connected to her main shop.

It made sense that if she catered to two separate groups of clientele, she would want to keep them divided.

Separate shops and dedicated business hours for each were sensible.

Everyone praised the French modiste for her brilliant yet tasteful designs, but it appeared that her shrewdness extended to her business acumen as well.

Her sharp gaze swept over Moreland. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.

” She spoke with a lilting French accent that only added to her striking presence.

She was of modest height with jet-black hair.

Small lines at the corners of her eyes were the only sign that she was slightly older than I had originally guessed.

“Baron Moreland,” he said with a slight bow. “At your service.”

She clasped her hands. “A Legend! I never thought to have one of you in my shop.” She dipped into a curtsy. “Welcome, monsieur. And who is the woman you have brought to me?”

I had kept my head angled away, but at her question, I turned to face her fully and pushed back my cloak’s hood.

Her eyes widened briefly. “Lady Victoria Wright?” She made a small humming sound in her throat. “I’ve heard rumblings about you, but I was told today that you’d left town to visit family. Something about a cousin being ill.”

I braced myself for the censure in her expression, perhaps even a hint of disgust. But Madame Argent was clearly a woman who’d seen much. After that initial flicker of surprise, her face betrayed no judgment.

“As you can imagine,” I said carefully, “my father is doing everything in his power to curb the rumors that have arisen.”

Madame Argent gave me a reassuring smile before glancing at Moreland. “I can see why you’d be tempted away from the straight and narrow, non ?”

I was at a loss for how to reply.

Fortunately, Moreland stepped in. “We are here because Lady Victoria had to leave her home quickly. She finds herself without an appropriate wardrobe. She has a few day dresses but no access to the rest of her wardrobe.”

Madame Argent nodded. “I understand. I still have your measurements.” Her gaze flicked quickly to my midsection. “I assume nothing has changed?”

Confused, I opened my mouth to ask what could have changed, but Moreland answered for me. “No, nothing has changed.”

“Good,” she said crisply. “You understand why I had to ask. If one hopes to hide a small baby bump, your modiste should always be apprised.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I realized everyone would jump to the same conclusion. When they learned that the rumors of my fall were true, they would assume that Moreland had gotten me with child. Nothing else would explain my sudden fall from grace.

“So, what do you two have in mind?”

Her gaze was on Moreland, but I rushed to answer. “Nothing too different from what you already made for me. The dresses were lovely, by the way. I’m sad I won’t be able to wear them, but I can hardly ask my father’s staff to send them to me.”

Madame Argent tilted her head thoughtfully. “I understand. How many dresses did you have in mind?”

“One ball gown,” I said before turning to Moreland.

“As many as are necessary,” Moreland said. “Whatever you think is appropriate. She won’t be going out in public often, for obvious reasons. But we do have a ball in two days’ time to attend.”

Madame Argent’s eyes gleamed. “I understand.”

“The other dresses can come at your leisure, but we need a gown quickly,” Moreland said.

Madame Argent walked around me, assessing. “I do keep a few gowns prepared for just such emergencies.” She met my gaze. “You would be surprised how many young women find themselves here at the last minute, needing something a little out of the ordinary.”

I couldn’t help but wonder how often situations like mine occurred, and I wanted to press her for details. But if I expected Madame Argent to keep my secrets, I needed to respect the privacy of her other clients.

“Wait here,” she said briskly. “I’ll bring out a few gowns that I can easily modify for Lady Victoria.” She slipped through the doorway into the adjoining shop.

“This feels so normal,” I said softly, overcome with surprise.

Our visit wasn’t all that different from my last trip to Madame Argent’s other shop. Of course, that time I’d been properly chaperoned by an older woman Father employed to accompany me. I certainly hadn’t been here with a man who was supposed to be my protector.

But Madame Argent’s calm, understanding manner had lightened the dread I’d felt since the carriage stopped in front of her shop.

Perhaps everything would be fine.