The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil

‘It concerns the dressmaker.’

He glanced at the clock. ‘Has she not arrived?’

‘Oh, yes, she is here, my lord. She informs me that you have given her instructions—precise instructions—on the gowns she is to provide, down to the very colours and fabrics to be used.’

‘What of it?’

‘What—?’ She stared at him. ‘It is usual, my lord, for ladies to make their own decisions on what they wear.’

‘Do you not like the colours?’

‘That is not the point—’

‘And are the gowns too unfashionable for you?’

‘Not at all, but—’

‘Then I really do not see the problem.’

Lucy drew in a long and angry breath.

‘The problem,’ she said, with great emphasis, ‘is that I have no choice. I am to be measured and pinned and fitted like a—like a doll!’

‘Surely not.’ He picked up his hat and gloves from a side table. ‘I have no doubt Mrs Sutton will ask your opinion on trimmings and beads and so forth.’

‘Minor details!’

‘But it must suffice.’

He began to move towards the door and she stepped in front of him.

‘What you do not understand—’

‘What you do not understand,’ he interrupted her curtly, ‘is that this discussion is ended.’

She glared at him. ‘When I accused you of high-handedness yesterday, my lord, I did not think it would go so far!’

He fixed her with a steely gaze and addressed her in an equally chilling voice.

‘Miss Halbrook, remember that I am paying you very well for your time here. If I wish you to wear certain colours and styles of gown while you are under my roof then you will do so. Do I make myself clear?’

He was towering over her, as unyielding as granite. The cleft in his chin was more deeply defined than ever and there was no softness about him, not even in the grey wool of his riding jacket. He would not give in; she knew that from the implacable look in his eyes, but she would not look away, and as their gazes remained locked together she found other sensations replacing her anger.

Such as curiosity. What it would be like to kiss that firm mouth, to have his arms around her, to force him to bend to the will of her own passion...

Shocked and a little frightened by her thoughts, Lucy stepped back and dragged her eyes away from that disturbing gaze. There must be no repeat of yesterday. He must not think she was trying in any way to entice him. Better to summon up the resentment that had brought her here in the first place.

‘You have made yourself very clear, my lord.’

She ground out the words, staring at the floor, but he put his fingers under her chin and obliged her to look at him again.

He said softly, ‘I am not an ogre, Miss Halbrook. I have my reasons for this, believe me.’ He held her eyes for a moment longer before releasing her. He went to the door and opened it. ‘Now go back upstairs and continue being—ah—fitted and pinned. You are going to have more new clothes than you can count. When this is over you may take them all away with you. Most women would be delighted with the prospect.’

She found she was trembling. Despising her own weakness, Lucy dragged together her pride and managed to say with creditable calm, ‘I am not most women, my lord.’

‘No.’ His mouth twisted into a wry smile as she stalked out of the room. ‘No, you are not, Miss Halbrook.’

* * *

Lucy went back to the morning room where Mrs Dean and the dressmaker were engaged in discussing fabric samples and looking through the portfolio of drawings that Mrs Sutton had brought with her. She was shaken by her encounter with Lord Adversane, and a little chastened, too. He was, after all, her employer, and quite within his rights to dictate what she should wear. A little spirit flared to argue that it would have been better if he had explained all this at the outset, but it was a very tiny spark and soon died.

She gave herself up to the task of looking at the various designs and samples of fabrics. She soon discovered—as she had known all along, if only she had thought about it—that she did indeed have a degree of freedom in the choice of ribbons and trimmings to be added to each gown. By the end of the session her head was spinning with all the talk of closed robes, morning and day dresses, walking dresses and evening gowns, as well as the pelisses, cloaks and shawls required to go with them. Also—a last-minute addition that Lord Adversane had ordered in a note, delivered hotfoot to the dressmaker yesterday evening—a riding habit.

* * *

Although she knew she had no real choice, Lucy nodded and approved all the samples and sketches put before her. They were without exception elegant creations, not overly burdened with frills and ribbons, which suited her very well. As the dressmaker and her assistant began packing away the drifts of muslin, samples of fine wool, worsted and sarcenet, Lucy spotted a large square of red silk. She picked it up.

‘What is this?’

Mrs Sutton looked around and gave a little tut of exasperation.

‘Heavens, miss, as if I should forget that!’ She pulled out the sheaf of loose papers again and selected a coloured drawing, which she handed to Lucy. ‘Lord Adversane was most insistent that you should have this gown.’

Lucy gazed at the impossibly slender figure in the painting. She was swathed in red silk, the high waistline and low neck leaving little to the imagination.

‘It is shown exactly as his lordship directed,’ said Mrs Sutton, waiting anxiously for Lucy’s reaction. ‘Even to the diamond set of earrings, necklace and bracelet.’

‘Scarlet and diamonds.’ Lucy pictured herself in such a gown, the jewels sparkling in the candlelight, her skirts floating about her as she danced around the ballroom. ‘Very striking but...it is not suitable for an unmarried lady. What say you, Ariadne?’ She handed the picture to Mrs Dean, who stared at it in silence. ‘Ariadne?’

The widow gave a little start.

‘Oh, I do not...’ She tailed off again, her troubled glance fixed upon the drawing.

‘It is far too grand for me to wear,’ Lucy continued. ‘If we were in London, perhaps, but here in the country, what use can I have for such a creation?’

‘Unless Adversane means to invite the neighbourhood,’ murmured Ariadne.

Lucy frowned. ‘Why should he do that?’

Ariadne made a visible effort to pull herself together, saying robustly, ‘I suppose he thought you must have it. Who knows what invitations you might receive? And everyone wears such colours these days. You will not always want to be wearing those pale muslins, now will you? And I recognise the diamonds. They are a family heirloom. As Ralph’s fiancée I have no doubt he will wish you to wear them.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy dismissed her doubts, relieved by Mrs Dean’s approval of the scarlet gown. To appear in public so beautifully apparelled was every girl’s dream. And what did it matter that it was all a sham, a charade? It would be a wonderful memory for her to take away with her.

* * *

When the dressmaker had departed Ariadne carried Lucy off to the shrubbery, declaring that one needed to clear one’s head after being bombarded with so much detail.

‘I must confess,’ she added, as they strolled arm in arm along the gravelled paths, ‘when you went off so angrily I thought I should be sending Mrs Sutton away and ordering the carriage to take you back to London forthwith.’