The Scoundrel and I - Katharine Ashe Page 0,15
pastels and gold dust.
“Do take a lemon tart, Miss Flood,” one of the assistants said. “They are scrumptious.”
Turning away from the delicacies, Elle said, “I am grateful for your time, Madame Étoile—”
“How charmingly you say my name. Tony did not tell me that you speak French.”
“He does not—” She glanced at the waiting assistants and lowered her voice. “He does not know that I speak anything except English. He does not know me. But that really is not to the point. Madame Étoile, I am grateful for your time, but the simple fact of it is that I cannot afford your services.” She could not afford the iced cakes arranged on the gold and pink plate. She could not afford her grandmother’s medicine either. And after the Brittles returned, she would not be able to afford the rent on their flat. Or food. “In truth, I do not even understand why I am here or for what occasion the captain believes I need a ball gown.”
“Didn’t Tony tell you?” She chuckled and drew Elle forward. “This, Miss Flood, is the gown that you will wear to the ball tomorrow night where you will meet our uncle who so rarely leaves his house that it is a miracle he is attending an event.”
Fashioned of silver-shot tulle over an underdress of white silk, and scattered with tiny diamonds and silver sequins like stardust, it had delicate little puff sleeves, a waist that sat tight up to the bodice, and a demi-train trimmed in silver embroidery.
“This cannot be for me.”
“Yet it is. Anthony instructed me to dress you to impress. You will have a silver wrap, and white gloves, I think,” she added, glancing at Elle’s hands. “Silver slippers as well. Penelope will show you reticules later.”
“But I cannot afford to pay for this—the gown, wrap, gloves—any of it.”
“Oh, you needn’t. Anthony feels positively wretched about the accident, and has asked me to do this as a favor to him.”
“Someone must pay for it, though. I cannot accept—”
“You cannot accept such a gift from a gentleman, of course. Let us agree, then, that I am passionately eager to see this gown worn by the ideal model, and you are she, so in truth you are doing me a favor.” She smiled delightfully. “Now, Miss Flood—may I call you Gabrielle? It suits you so well.”
“Did you say ‘our uncle’? That is, Captain Masinter’s uncle is your uncle as well?”
“Technically, Uncle Frederick is Tony’s mother’s brother, so I am not truly related to him. But we spent any number of hours in his house when we were children, so I called him Uncle Frederick as well.” Her artfully sculpted brows rose.
“My friends call me Elle.”
“And you will call me Seraphina.” She grasped Elle’s hands warmly. “For I have a suspicion we will be good friends. Now, Elle, you must take a lemon tart and a cup of tea. For in no more than ten minutes you will be barred from all food and drink while I fit this gown for you.” She looked her up and down again. “Yes. Yes, indeed. What a fine eye for a lady my cousin has.”
“A lady?”
“Chocolate, Miss Flood?” Penelope said, placing before Elle a crystal plate adorned with bonbons.
“Why must I look like a lady tomorrow night?” Elle asked Seraphina.
Seraphina smiled mysteriously and drew her to the tea table where Penelope and the other woman urged her to eat while chatting away about silk and satin and stays, and never giving her a moment to ask another question.
~o0o~
Two hours later, Seraphina declared the fitting a success.
“Tomorrow night you will take the ton by storm!” She opened the door and drew Elle onto the landing.
“If it serves the purpose, I will be satisfied.” In the shimmering gown she had felt like a common duck dressed up in swan’s feathers. No one would believe she was an actual lady.
“Finished so soon?” The captain stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“You haven’t been in that spot for two hours, have you, Tony?” Seraphina said as they descended.
“Went over to Charles’s house to pay a call on the girls,” he said, but his gaze was on Elle. “How do you like my cousin’s shop?”
The girls? This neighborhood was far too elegant for a brothel.
“Very much.” Elle did not understand him, or this world of fashionable society, or the project he had in mind for the following night. But she could not resist the honest pleasure in his eyes.
“Have you heard from Aunt Adelaide