Page 31 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

S arah called for Annis on Friday morning and whisked her off to Bond St. for a marathon shopping expedition.

Annis, unaccustomed to being able to afford lace and ribbons, let alone a whole wardrobe of sumptuous gowns, was a bit overwhelmed.

But Emrys had impressed upon her over breakfast that she could spend what she liked.

“You won’t bankrupt me for a few gowns, my dear.

I can assure you, my estates are in good heart.

Caro used to buy something new every week, if I recall.

Just tell them to send the bills to me. I will organize you an allowance in future, and you can manage for yourself, as I’m sure you’d prefer, but for this once just get what you need, and be guided by Sarah. ”

Seeing Annis’s discomfort in the first shop, Sarah said quietly, “I know how you feel. I was reluctant at first when I inherited my great-aunt’s fortune.

But Daphne—you remember Lady Holbrook?—she convinced me it was an investment in my future, and it did pay off.

In your case it’s different, of course. But you must dress as befits your station, as I do now.

We need to ensure we don’t become sources of gossip or put our families to the blush, my dear, not over trifles like clothes.

That doesn’t mean I countenance squandering money unnecessarily; I would much prefer it went to charity.

But with the title comes certain responsibilities, you understand? ”

Annis nodded. It made perfect sense, and she did want to make Emrys pleased with her appearance. To see the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her was worth more than gold.

She was glad to make the acquaintance of Sarah’s sister, Miss Deborah Watson, again.

She was an exceedingly pretty young woman with dark hair and blue eyes, a stunning combination.

Despite her looks, Miss Watson wasn’t in the slightest bit affected in her manner.

She seemed oblivious to her appearance and entered into the process of acquiring a wardrobe with similar trepidation to Annis.

Despite the seven years between them, Annis felt a certain kinship of spirit with the younger woman.

The modiste, Madame Therese, had both of them up on pedestals while fabrics were draped and pinned on them, and patterns and styles were discussed with Sarah.

Once this part of the proceedings was completed, they tried on several made-up dresses, which were adjusted to fit with pins and promised for delivery later that day or tomorrow.

The gowns to be made bespoke would take a couple of weeks to arrive.

Since both of them required everything from corsets, chemise, and petticoats, to shoes, bonnets, gloves, and shawls, it was a very long day traipsing from shop to shop.

They stopped for luncheon, and Sarah allowed them a respite at Hatchard’s bookshop for a blissful hour where they all three poured over the new catalogue of novels and chose some volumes for their respective libraries.

By the time Sarah dropped her at home, Annis was exhausted. She went up to her dressing room with the intention of putting away all her new purchases, the footmen trailing her, carrying up all her packages, and was confronted by the sight of a young woman in an apron and mob cap waiting for her.

“My lady,” she said with a smile and dipped a curtsy. “My name is Bess Harper. His lordship sent me to help you with your wardrobe, if it pleases you?”

Annis recalled Emrys muttering something about getting her a maid and she had meant to ask Sarah how to go about it but forgot in all the kerfuffle.

It seemed he had done it for her. Generally, she enjoyed the things he did for her, but choosing a personal lady’s maid was rather more delicate than choosing a horse.

Not entirely sure she liked this high-handedness, she still smiled at the young woman and said, “Thank you, Bess. There are a few things to put away.”

The footmen deposited the first lot of boxes and packages and went back down for the rest. It took them four trips.

By the time they had gone, Bess was already helping her unwrap and unbox everything and making oh and ah noises over her purchases.

“Oh, my lady, these are lovely!” she said, eyeing a pair of dancing slippers in pink silk with rosettes.

Annis stared at everything laid out before her and nodded. “There is a ball gown coming to match them.”

With Bess’s help, she got everything packed away and realized it was time to dress for dinner.

She had brought one gown home with her. In sea-green silk with a gauze overskirt, it had fitted her perfectly without the need for alteration.

It was secretly her favorite of all the gowns she had tried on, and she was quietly excited to wear it for Emrys.

Bess proved highly competent with dressing her hair, a luxury Annis had hitherto not had. And it was in need of a cut. Sarah had promised to send round a hairstylist tomorrow to give her a fashionable crop.

When she mentioned her plans for her hair to Emrys over dinner, he dropped his fork and said, “Oh, no! But I like your hair the way it is!”

“Oh! Well of course if you—”

He sighed. “No, you’re right, you need to look fashionable, and of course you should have it as it pleases you.

I shall just have to get used it.” He chewed thoughtfully.

“I should get mine cut, too, and try not to embarrass you with my woolly mop.” He shook his head, and his hair fell over his face.

“Oh, but I like yours!” she protested.

“We both need to be shorn like sheep,” he said. “We shall accustom ourselves and be fashionable, at least for the season. We can go wild in the off months.”

She smiled and forked up some peas. “As you like, my lord,” she said demurely.

He grinned at her. “I know I said it before, but it bears repeating—that dress really suits you. Something about that color.”

She flushed. She soaked up compliments from him like a sponge. “Thank you. Yes, I like it very much myself. It’s my favorite shade of green.”

*

The following morning, Emrys shocked his valet by asking for a haircut.

“Certainly, my lord. The usual slight trim?” asked Felton, getting out his scissors and comb.

“No, do what you want with it,” said Emrys, seating himself before the mirror.

Felton stood behind him and said, “I beg your pardon, my lord. What do you mean?”

“Cut it, Felton. No doubt you know how to achieve something... fashionable?” He winced internally but faced the mirror manfully, reminding himself that if it looked awful, the hair would grow back.

Felton opened his mouth and shut it. “As your lordship pleases.” He draped a towel round Emrys’s shoulders and set to work.

Twenty minutes later he held up a mirror to show Emrys the cut from the back. All the length had been cut, and his thick, slightly wavy brown hair clung to the shape of his skull. At the front, a bit more length had been retained.

“Your lordship’s natural curls give body to the hair and support the romantic look.

I have refrained from adopting the extremity of the Brutus, but I think this style frames your face well.

If you choose to adopt the fashion of sideburns, my lord.

..?” He stopped delicately, clearly not wishing to overstep.

Emrys regarded his reflection with slight surprise. He would never be handsome, but the cut was an improvement, even he had to admit. “I’ll consider it, Felton. Good job,” he added.

Felton bowed, a slight smile curling his lips.

“I think I’ll get some new boots, too,” said Emrys.

“And some pantaloons, my lord?” asked Felton hopefully. “A pale biscuit is tasteful, while being in the first stare of elegance.”

Emrys’s lips twitch, “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Felton. You’ll never turn me into a Brummel, you know.”

“I know, my lord,” he said in a hollow voice.

“Do I pay you enough, Felton?”

Startled, Felton said, “Your lordship is most generous. I have no complaints about my remuneration.”

“I’m glad I pay you enough to put up with me, then,” said Emrys, rising and stretching. He shook his head, dislodging some of Felton’s carefully arranged curls.

“If you won’t consider pantaloons, my lord, would you at least consider purchasing some jackets and waistcoats that fit your trimmer figure? I have done what I can with your breeches, my lord, but I’m no tailor, and the jackets and waistcoats are beyond me.”

Emrys looked down at his flatter stomach, running a hand over it. “I suppose so. I hadn’t really noticed. This slimmer me seems to be the new normal version. But I won’t purchase coats so tight you have to use a shoehorn to get me into them, mind.”

“Of course not, my lord.”

Emrys smiled and accepted the neckcloth Felton handed to him and attempted to tie the damned thing with a bit more precision than usual.

He would never master the art of the cravat, he was sure.

Dressed in one of his ill-fitting waistcoats and jackets and his rather scuffed boots, despite Felton’s best efforts with the bootblack, he reflected that the least he could do for Annis was pay a bit more attention to his wardrobe, and he resolved to pay a visit to Scott and Hoby.

Some time later, having spent an hour with his delighted tailor, he headed toward Hoby in St James’s to purchase some new boots and ran into the duke.

“Turning fashionable, Emrys, or did Felton threaten to resign unless you chopped it off?” said the duke, referring to his hair cut.

“Neither.”

“Ah, then I detect the influence of Annis.”

Emrys shook his head. “Annis likes my hair long. But you’re right—I did it for her. She is making strides to be fashionable and look the part of the viscountess; I don’t want to embarrass her by being shabby next to her. I’m heading to Hoby now to get some new boots.”

“I’ll come with you,” the duke said, falling into step with him. “Sarah mentioned she had both Annis and Deb at the dressmakers. Must have been quite a day. I know Sarah was tired after it.”