We head home on Monday and should be home Tuesday, 5 July.
Would you have time to prepare, if we were to wed on 16 July? Family only, if that’s agreeable with you.
Impatiently yours,
T—
*
Tuesday, 5 July 1825
Yes.
R—
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rose swayed asanother wave of exhaustion swept over her, and she closed her eyes against the dizziness. She felt Madame Adrienne’s hand on her arm to steady her.
“Do you need to sit,cherie?”
Rose took a deep breath and opened her eyes, smiling down at the modiste. “No. We need to finish. The wedding is two days away, and there is still far too much to do.”
Madame Adrienne clucked her tongue and continued pinning the hem of Rose’s dress. “Two weddings in less than a month. He must be a madman.”
Rose laughed. “Just impatient. As am I, to be frank. You can complete it by tomorrow?”
Madame Adrienne gave a dismissive wave. “Of course. There are only a few more tucks and gathers, and this hem.” She looked up at Rose, however, a scowl on her face. “But you will keep it away from that devil incarnate, yes?”
From a nearby chair, Sarah spoke quickly. “Oh, yes! Athena has been banished from Rose’s rooms until Sunday.” She paused, her gaze going over the gown, bodice to hem. “My lady, you look exquisite.”
“Of course, she does! She is a beautiful woman in a beautiful gown!” Madame Adrienne’s enthusiasm calmed a bit as she went on. “He was right, you know. That color on you, it is magnificent. You will be an unforgettable bride.”
Rose looked again in the full-length mirror, still astonished at how the indigo silk in a spectacular design had transformed her. The gigot sleeves were gathered at the shoulders and drew in tightly to narrow cuffs, where loops held covered buttons close to her wrists. The blouse-style bodice had tucks in a v-shape at the front and the back, with each tuck accented with a line of contrasting silver metallic piping. The effect was to draw the eye down to the waistline, which followed the current style and sat lower, just above a full skirt featuring two layers of gathered silk. A broad indigo silk sash embroidered with silver medallions circled her waist, then trailed down in a gentle curve to the right, affixed to the skirt and ending in a flourish that sat atop a heavily embroidered ruffle circling the hem.
“I look so thin,” she whispered.
“An illusion for the world,” Madame Adrienne said, “to reserve your delightful curves for the man who relishes them.”
“I don’t know—”
“Oh, he does. When he came to purchase the silk, he was gruff, embarrassed to be in a modiste’s shop—he is a man, after all—but eager for the dress to emphasize how lovely you are. And when a man thinks you are beautiful, you should listen. In the end, it is the two of you, and no one else, who matter, despite all the Society folderol.”
Rose took in the thoughtful counsel. “Were you ever married?”
Madame Adrienne paused then nodded, and her next words lacked the tight French accent that usually colored her voice. “The fourth son of an earl. Nobility but no money. When he went to the war and did not come home, I used this shop to salvage what little I had.”
The two women looked at each other a few moments. “You are not Adrienne?”
“I am, actually, just without the accent. My mother had a fondness for French novels. She used to talk to me of Paris in a French accent.” Her usual intonations returned. “And, of course, all of the Beau Monde prefers a French modiste.”
Rose grinned. “Kent?”
“A little closer in, but yes. Now, let’s see the train.” She stepped back as two of her assistants brought forth a long length of silk, affixing it to Rose’s shoulders with silver clasps and fluffing it out. The ruched indigo train flowed down, trailing two feet behind her slippers. The edges of the train had matching silver piping and the entire length was lined with a light gray satin. It made Rose look as if she were floating on a cloud.
“A bride should feel as beautiful as she looks,” Madame Adrienne muttered, standing and retrieving a large box from her back room. She held it out to Rose, who hesitated.
“What is this?”
