Page 22 of Evie and Louis: The Story so Far

“Wh—” Evie began, and then gave up, staring at him in outrage. “You cannot ask me that!” she whispered, stunned.

Louis rolled his eyes. “You wanted my advice, my help, oui? Well, whatever is under that dress is not doing what it ought. Tiens, never mind. You must send me your measurements and I shall deal with that too.”

“But—”

“Hush.” Louis silenced her as he stood back, contemplating.

Obediently, Evie hushed, too confounded to say another word. Louis studied her critically.

“The cut of this neckline needs to be low, and these dreadful frills must go. They are all wrong for you. You need a much simpler style, with some small pleats for emphasis, I think… Oui, that run from the shoulders to here.”

Evie blinked, a little stunned, as he traced a line in mid-air, from her shoulder to low on her décolletage.

“There?” she squealed in alarm. “I’ll fall out of it!”

“No, you will not,” he assured her.

“B-But everyone will stare at me,” she protested, flushing hot as she considered the idea.

Louis shrugged. “Oui, naturellement.”

“I’m really not sure—”

“You said you trusted me,” he replied, watching her with unnerving intensity.

“I do. Of course, I do, but…” Evie sighed at the implacable look in his eyes. “Oh. Very well.”

“You will have the gown sent to my room and I will see to the alterations.”

“Yes, Louis.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied. The sound of the clock chiming one, echoed in the distance. Evie sighed in disappointment. “I suppose I had better go to bed.”

“Non, not yet,” Louis said, taking her firmly by the hand and leading her to the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked, brightening to think the evening was not yet over, and curious to know what he had in mind.

Louis looked over his shoulder at her, a determined glint in his eyes. “To get you something to eat.”

Chapter 13

The Mistletoe Dare

Evening of the 8th of December 1840, Mrs Barclay’s Rout Party, Grosvenor Square, London.

“How have you been?” Nic asked his brother. “I feel you’ve been avoiding me these past weeks.”

Louis César’s beautiful face was impassive, revealing nothing. The damned mask he wore was firmly in place tonight. Nic wondered when the last time was he’d seen it slip. Once upon a time, he and Louis had been inseparable, hiding nothing from each other. In fact, Louis had hated not having him around. He never had borne being alone well, but recently Nic barely saw him.

“Very well, as you see,” Louis replied, though he didn’t turn to look at Nic, just watched the room.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

Louis did turn then, quirking one elegant eyebrow just a little. “It was a decision, was it?” he asked mildly.

Nic shrugged. “We wanted you here. The duchess wanted you here, Aggie and your Miss Evie wanted you here.”

“She’s not my Miss Evie,” Louis snapped, glaring at him.