To Sketch a Sphinx - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,10
measure her. A husband, of all things. No wonder Hunter had appeared from the depths of the city to attend the formality. Hal was never supposed to have a wedding or husband of any kind.
Belle suddenly cinched the fabric around Hal’s torso tightly, taking her by surprise. “Steady on,” Hal protested breathlessly. “What’s the point of this?”
“Sorry, miss,” Belle said around a mouthful of pins. “Fashions in Paris are starting to turn closer to the body. We’ll have to tighten your stays.”
Hal’s cheeks flamed, and she prayed Sphinx wouldn’t hear them.
“Fine,” she hissed low to avoid eavesdroppers. “But please, let me breathe. I’ll work on comportment, but I must have movement.”
The fabric around her loosened just enough to give her breath once more, but only just.
She would take it.
“Tilda, I really must protest,” Sphinx insisted, his tone turning plaintive.
“Really? I had no idea,” came the tall woman’s response.
Hal peered over the top of the screen, her lips curving with curiosity. Sphinx was grimacing, his chin high in the air as Tilda continued to work at the linen about his neck. He wore no waistcoat or jacket, hands propped on his waist, and his stockinged feet curled in abject protest on the floor. It would have been a pitiable picture had this not all felt like some overdone theatrical.
She couldn’t laugh at the prospect, much as she was amused by the sight; she knew she would likely have her hair trussed up in a way that would pain her, find herself tripping over the length of her skirts and petticoats, and exposing more of her shoulders and arms than had been seen in a decade.
As if her thought had been heard, the straps of her chemise were drawn to the side, drawing a reluctant groan from her. “Why?”
“Just for estimates, miss,” Belle reassured her as the other girl measured the distance between the edges with a strip of fabric. “A glimpse of shoulder is de rigueur in Paris.”
“I’m beginning to think this is punishment for some crime I have committed,” Hal muttered as she obediently spread her arms out when bid.
She heard a grunt from the other side of the screen. “Agreed. Any idea how we have offended the powers that be so heinously?”
Hal smiled and looked towards the ceiling as though it would assist in carrying her voice. “I did manage to forget Tailor’s birthday this year until the day after. Think that would do it?”
“Not likely,” came the strangely not disparaging voice. “If it had been Weaver, perhaps, but Tailor isn’t so vengeful.”
“True enough.” Hal sighed and made a face. “Could we be receiving punishment on behalf of our siblings, then? Trick and Rook?”
A thoughtful sound emerged. “That could be. I don’t know your sibling all that well, but I could certainly see mine causing enough trouble that it could impact me.”
“So can I.” Hal laughed as she imagined Rook being up to mischief even while on assignment.
“Marvelous,” Sphinx replied dryly. “I think everybody can see him doing something.”
“I concur,” Tilda told them both. “Believe me, both of your brothers are capable of trouble enough to pull the both of you into the mess.”
Hal rose up onto her tiptoes to look over the screen at the elegant costumer. “I didn’t know you knew Trick.”
Tilda glanced over at her with a sly, bemused look. “Oh, love. Believe me, I have known Trick for years and years. I daresay I know more about his missions than you do.”
There was a humbling thought, and Hal lowered herself back down as she considered that. She’d known Tilda often helped with several branches of the government’s covert operations, but she hadn’t suspected anything so incredibly involved. She was a special asset to the London League, of course, but they weren’t the only ones running missions and investigations in London itself.
Just how entangled was Tilda in this covert world of theirs?
“May I ask why we are being trussed up like this before we get to Paris?” Sphinx asked Tilda with the same mild, dry tone he always seemed to use. “If I understand things right, we are to be staying with Hal’s relations. Surely, they will not expect us to arrive in Paris already arrayed fashionably.”
“What are you saying, Sphinx?” Hal demanded with a grin that he wouldn’t see. “Are you implying that I am not a fashionable lady?”
Belle smiled at Hal’s obvious jab, and Hal winked playfully.
“Are you telling me that you are?” Sphinx asked her without much concern. “I have seen no proof