And most of her adulthood, for that matter.
The loneliest years of her life had been the ones she’d spent at her husband’s side. Only as she’d grown older had she realized the earl had not been afflicted with an overabundance of affection, but possession. Any attempts she’d made to grant herself a moment of peace had been met with reprimands and rambling lectures on the importance of loyalty to one’s husband.
What she would not give to strike the accursed man from her past.
She forcibly thrust her thoughts of her former husband away and flipped through a book of fashion plates as they waited for Madame Julian. That the modiste had left them on their own for so long was odd. The woman must have been busy.Still, the pounding in her chest increased with every passing minute.
She ran her finger over a sketch of a shepherdess costume. The square-cut bodice and full skirt were turquoise, with strips of white inlaid with pink roses. The three-quarter-length sleeves with double-layered cuffs were reminiscent of the French court gowns her grandmother had once owned. She coveted it immediately, although she had not attended a fancy-dress party in months. Perhaps she would commission it for herself, along with Constance’s new wardrobe.
Once the girl was wed, the articles stopped, and her reputation restored, she would host a grand ball. It would be the perfect end to the season, an event celebrating her jubilant return to matchmaking. She would have so many candidates thrust upon her by eager mamas that her schedule would be booked for months.
She closed the book as a door thudded and Madame Julian stepped out of the darkness. Her black hair was held back from her face by a complicated arrangement of braids, and her rouged lips were turned down in a frown. Unlike during the previous times Olivia had visited, the modiste did not greet her with an explosion of rapid French but dipped her sharp chin while sliding a long strip of paper between her fingers.
“Lady Allen,” the woman said, without meeting her gaze. “I apologize, but I cannot assist you. I am busy.”
“Busy?”
Madame Julian had never turned her away. Without Olivia’s patronage, she might never have left the unfashionable district where she had first set up shop.
Then Olivia spotted the newspaper laid out on the long table, beside a pile of fabric scraps.
“Madame, I cannot.” The woman’s large eyes watered. “My business. I cannot assist you. You must ask another.” She rushed off, leaving Olivia standing beside an open-mouthed Constance.
“What was that?” Constance asked.
At least there were no other patrons in the shop to see what had happened. There would be no firsthand accounts of her embarrassment.
“A minor complication,” Olivia said, forcing out each word. But as she drew Constance back to the waiting carriage, she could not help but wonder if Madame Julian would not help them, then who would?
Chapter 6
“How much longer are you going to engage that woman?” Felix asked.
Thel speared a piece of charred beef from his plate and stuck it in his mouth as an excuse not to answer. His brother had been nettling him since Olivia and Constance had left. It would not usually have been a problem, except that he was unsure of his own feelings toward the woman.
That he desired her was obvious but did not explain why seeing her in distress made his chest ache, and why reaching for her seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
Perhaps it was only that she had surprised him. The gentle, soft-spoken lady who had opened her arms for Alanna was entirely different from the confident woman who had put Mrs. Zephyr in her place.
“If you continue to associate with her, how long until society turns on all of us?” his brother asked from across the table. “You must dismiss the wretched woman at once.”
Elijah, their youngest brother, grimaced. Unlike Thel and Felix, the sharp planes of Elijah’s face were clean shaven, and he kept his dark-brown hair short. At three-and-twenty, he was the only one of them who was still a never-married, confirmed bachelor, despite their mother’s pestering.
“The articlesarerather concerning,” Felix’s wife, Celina, said. She dabbed her lips with a black, silk handkerchief, despite having consumed no more than a bite of every plate that hadbeen placed before her. He had no idea how she maintained her fashionably curvy figure without the appearance of an appetite.
“Quite right,” Felix said. He pinned Thel with a glare. “What would Father think, if he knew a woman of such dubious reputation was in close contact with his granddaughter?”
Thel didn’t want to think about the articles. He should have confronted his daughter before she’d left with Lady Allen, but he had been too set on finding another meaning in the letter that he had missed. It made little sense that Constance was attacking Lady Allen. First, the articles had started weeks before they had met her. Second, if Constance held some grudge against Lady Allen, why had she not balked when he had suggested engaging her services?
Elijah put his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “Thel has made his decision. We must respect it.”
Felix scoffed. “It washis decisionnot to marry Constance to an appropriate man, and now she is in the care of a woman accused of murder. We will be lucky if she survives the season with her reputation intact.” He swung his arm around, tipping over his wife’s glass and spilling wine onto her lap.
She shrieked as servants rushed to clear up the mess.
Felix continued, undeterred despite the flurry of activity around him. “She should have been matched as soon as her breasts began to bud. Men will be trying to get under her skirts—”
Thel pushed back from the table. “Enough!”
