She smiled, her teeth straight and white, her lips as red as cherries. “I excel in providing my customers with the unexpected.”
Rafe seemed to be taking measure of her. She remembered that he said he was a good judge of character. She wondered what he thought of so bold a creature. “Miss Chambers is in need of a wardrobe. Everything.”
Madame Charmaine arched a brow, and Evelyn imagined she was creating a mental list of whateverythingmight include, and how profitable this endeavor might be.
“She will require only the finest of materials,” Rafe said before walking over to a table burdened with bolts of brightly colored cloth.
Evelyn traipsed after him and whispered, “I’m in mourning. I should wear black.”
“You may when I’m not about, but when you are in my presence it will please me to see you in colors.”
He selected them: rich blues, purples, crimson. Bold strong colors. She’d always worn pale shades, pastels, so that she blended in, wasn’t truly visible. Except for the one purple gown Geoffrey had selected for her to wear. She’d had it made as a dream, something to be worn if she ever attended a ball.
All the while Madame Charmaine slowly raked her gaze over Evelyn, and she knew the moment that the woman deduced exactly what she was to Rafe—or what she would become to him. She thought she might die, that her heart would cease beating, her blood flowing, her lungs drawing in air.
“I want a dozen dresses for her within the week,” Rafe said, distracted by his perusal of the fabrics.
“I fear, sir, that my schedule is quite full. You might have better success at another shop.”
Rafe stopped riffling through the fabrics and faced her. “My sister by marriage, the Duchess of Keswick, assures me you are the best.”
“I am, sir, but—”
“My lord.”
“Pardon?”
“Apologies for not introducing myself earlier. Lord Rafe Easton. I don’t imagine the Duchess would continue to shop here if I informed her I was turned away.”
“It is only that to meet your deadline with my current workload—”
“Yes, I quite understand, but here’s the thing: Miss Chambers requires clothing due to an unfortunate circumstance that left her with nothing save the dress she is now wearing.” His voice grew lower with each word spoken until Madame Charmaine was leaning toward him in an attempt to properly hear. “A sad state of affairs indeed for a lady to have to go about with only one dress to see her through, wouldn’t you agree? What will it cost me to have you open up your schedule for her?”
“My lord, it’s quite impossible. I have an incredible number of orders to fulfill—”
“Shall we say double the outrageous amount you were going to charge me anyway?”
The woman glanced at the fabrics, the ceiling, the floor, and Evelyn could see her calculating. “I suppose I could see my way clear to complete an item or two within the week.”
“Splendid. I so admire the rare woman who exhibits good sense. I’ve no doubt that we shall get along famously. I shall want to approve all designs and fabrics.”
“An unusual request. Most gentlemen don’t care, but I’m sure I can accommodate. I shall need to get some measurements.”
“Excellent.”
Evelyn had watched the entire encounter with a measure of horror. Did he think the moon and stars revolved around him? That only his wants and needs mattered? What of her other customers?
He turned to her. “I have some things to see to. I’ll return for you within the hour. Enjoy your time with Madame Charmaine.”
The bell above the door tinkled when he went out. How could it sound so innocent when someone so determined passed beneath it?
“The elusive Rafe Easton. I daresay I’d never expected to cross paths with him,” Madame muttered. “However did you manage to find yourself tangled up with one of the lost lords of Pembrook?”
Evelyn turned to her. “The lost lords?”
“Do you live beneath a rock?”
Evelyn fought not to start laughing maniacally. “No, just in a residence, protected by my father, the Earl of Wortham.”
