Knowing her reading would not continue until the conversation had run its course, Theodosia sighed softly and set the book aside on the table. “And why, pray tell, is that interesting?”
“My brother is not exactly the friendly type,” Olivia explained. “He maintains a small group of friends—tolerates them, really—and he doesn’t take to people easily. Or at all, in most cases.”
Theodosia couldn’t help but grin. “I had rather suspected as much.”
Before Olivia could reply, the butler appeared at the doorway with a slight bow. “Madame Duchon has arrived and is setting up in the parlor.”
At once, Olivia leapt to her feet, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, splendid! I cannot wait to see what gowns she’s brought this time.”
Rising more slowly, Theodosia smoothed down the borrowed pale pink muslin she wore and gave a small smile. “It will be a relief to have a wardrobe of my own. Not that I haven’t appreciated your generosity, of course.”
“It’s truly no trouble,” Olivia said with a wave of her hand.
“You are kind to say so, but your brother did promise me a new wardrobe,” Theodosia reminded her.
“Then let us go spend my brother’s hard-earned money,” Olivia declared, looping her arm through Theodosia’s as they exited the drawing room.
As they strolled towards the parlor, they passed Lord Wilton’s study. Theodosia cast a fleeting glance through the open doorway. There he sat, hunched over a ledger, quill in hand, the furrow between his brows speaking to the weight of his thoughts.
“My brother works entirely too hard,” Olivia murmured.
“That is a commendable trait.”
“Perhaps,” Olivia said with a shrug, “but not if he ever hopes to find a wife.”
They entered the parlor, and Theodosia halted for a moment, taken aback by the flurry of activity. Fabrics in every color imaginable lay draped across settees and chairs, and two young assistants flitted between the bolts. At the center stood a woman with striking black hair, keen dark eyes, and a commanding presence.
“Lady Olivia,” the woman greeted, extending her arms. “I brought your gowns, as promised. I do hope you’ll find them satisfactory.”
Olivia made a delighted noise and reached for a maroon gown with a black overlay. “This is exquisite,” she declared, holding it up to her figure.
“I am pleased to hear it,” the woman said before turning to Theodosia with a knowing smile. “And you must be Miss Theodosia Smith.”
“I am,” she confirmed, stepping forward.
“I am Madame Duchon. I understand Lord Wilton has commissioned an entire wardrobe on your behalf.”
Theodosia gave a tentative nod. “Yes—if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
Madame Duchon let out an amused laugh. “Inconvenience? My dear girl, Lord Wilton is paying me handsomely for my time. It is no trouble at all.”
She stepped closer, appraising Theodosia from head to toewith a discerning eye. “You are a pretty little thing. Unmarried, I presume?”
“I am,” Theodosia replied.
“Then we shall favor soft hues—pale blues, blushes, creams. They will suit you beautifully. Have you been presented at Court?”
“Heavens, no,” Theodosia responded. “I am merely Lady Olivia’s companion. I’ve no ambition to be presented to the queen.”
“Well, I daresay you shall be the most fashionable companion thetonhas ever seen,” Madame Duchon declared with a flourish.
“That really isn’t necessary?—”
“Oh, but it is,” Olivia interjected. “I’ve no wish to be seen about Town with a dowdy companion.”
Madame Duchon beamed. “Then it’s settled. I shall begin with your measurements.”
An assistant stepped forward and handed her a long measuring tape. As Madame Duchon began her work, she kept up a pleasant stream of questions.
