The Duke Heist (The Wild Wynchesters #1) - Erica Ridley Page 0,60

around and headed back toward the Wynchesters. They watched in anticipation as the driver pulled to a stop in front of Chloe.

“Almost forgot.” He reached for a large object under a woolen blanket on his perch and placed it in her hands. “There you are, madam. Good day.”

With that, he drove off.

Her siblings crowded around her. “What is it? What did he give you?”

Chloe knew exactly what she held in her hands.

It was a hatbox. With the world’s gaudiest bonnet inside. But more than that, it was a private jest between her and the Duke of Faircliffe. Her entire body warmed.

Lawrence thought on too many levels for anything he did to be only what it seemed. The hatbox was a message: Be whoever she wished to be. He was literally putting the power—and the choice—into her hands.

She turned and walked to the house.

“Where are you going?” Tommy called, startled.

Chloe didn’t slow. “I’ll meet you in the Planning Parlor.”

There was something she had to do.

Lawrence was right. If she could be her outlandish, magpie self with him, surely she could be as bold and confident with her siblings. There was no reason for her interest in fashion to stay hidden in her own home.

As soon as she reached her dressing room, she stripped her layers of relentless beige from her body and placed her curling tongs over the fire. Then she flung open the doors to her enormous wardrobe.

She feasted her eyes on the dazzling array of colors and fabrics before her. Now that she’d given herself permission to wear whatever she pleased, Chloe found herself spoiled for choice. She’d been hoarding fashionable gowns and accessories for years. How was she to decide?

It was impossible to choose the perfect ensemble, so she didn’t. She put on her favorite gown and her favorite slippers and her favorite pelisse, even though none of it matched. She curled every single hunk of her hair, rather than just the tendrils at her temples, and allowed the profusion of ringlets to bounce from her head in any direction they pleased.

She couldn’t decide between her two favorite combs, so she put in both. Ostrich feathers? Three. And perhaps that frilly lace fichu…

There. She turned to face her looking glass and burst out laughing. Instead of her usual place in the shadows, she was a Vauxhall firework bright enough to light up the night sky.

Chloe Wynchester, shooting star.

If this went well, perhaps she would begin meeting with her modiste in person, instead of sending fashion illustrations scrawled with notes and measurements. It would be a joy not to have to hide this side of herself anymore. But first…

She rolled back her shoulders and opened her bedchamber door. Her legs were unsteady. What if her siblings laughed at her or accused her of trying to copy Tommy’s skill with disguises?

What if they didn’t notice her stunning change in appearance, because no matter how she dressed, she would never stand out?

She forced herself to stride into the parlor anyway, with her spine straight and her head of curls held high.

“Finally.” Elizabeth affected an aloof expression. “Miss Chloe deigns to share her mysterious packages with the rest of us.”

“I told you she wasn’t collecting badgers,” Graham whispered to Jacob.

“You didn’t know,” Jacob sniffed. “Badgers can be well behaved when they wish.”

Tommy pulled off her white wig and scrubbed her fingers through her short brown hair. “Does this mean I can start raiding your wardrobe when putting together my disguises?”

Heat pricked Chloe’s eyes as she grinned at her siblings. Of course they would accept her, just as they always had done. They didn’t care if she wore diamonds or a burlap sack. She had never been invisible to them.

They were a family.

20

I don’t think a tiara would have ruined your appearance,” Elizabeth said, gripping her sword stick as the carriage rolled over a particularly jarring patch.

Chloe shook her head. It was a thrill to dress as flamboyantly as she liked at home with her family, but nothing had changed in the world outside their walls.

“Tommy and I don’t care about the York ball,” she informed her sister firmly. “Rescuing Puck is our only priority. I’ll distract the duke by pretending I need waltzing lessons, and Tommy will slip into the library to search for the painting.”

“If it’s there, he’s hidden it well. I won’t have much time to search.” Tommy made a face. “Faircliffe has a ball to attend.”

“According to Graham’s reconnaissance, tonight Faircliffe will officially ask for Miss York’s hand.” Chloe’s