Page 20 of Atone, Adonis

Which was…absolutely not. She crushed the thought that any of his attention could be voluntary or wanted with a tremendous amount of mental violence.

He reached for the hem of her gown. “We’ll begin with the length. The rip is small and will be on the underside of the fold.”

“I beg your pardon,” Julianna said.

“That won’t be necessary. Although it is bad luck for me to see you in your wedding gown before the ceremony, no pardons are needed.”

“Bad luck?” she echoed as some noise that sounded, frankly, hysterical escaped her throat. “There is no more cursed marriage on earth than this one. If the devil himself were officiating, it would hardly make things worse. Luck is not the issue.”

“Well then, we have nothing to worry over. Now stand still, Miss Farrow, while I pin your hem. If you insist on wearing this gown, at least wear it properly.”

“I did not ask for your opinion on my attire.”

“Nonetheless I have given it.”

“This was my mother’s dress.”

She heard his breath catch at that and she flicked her eyes down in time to see some stricken expression flash across his features before it was gone again. Good.

“May she rest in peace,” he said and, then, still there on his knees, began to adjust her hem.

Above them, Thomas coughed but it seemed less violent to her now. And she could hear the nurse’s muffled exhortations that he sit up a little, that he drink his tea. Those were, she admitted to herself with some chagrin, the exact same things she would have said to her brother.

She swallowed thickly but kept her mouth shut as Fred’s hands moved to the side of her skirt, his touch careful and impersonal. He did not let his fingers nor his gaze wander from the task at hand. He was…surprisingly competent at alterations.

“You’ve done this before?” she finally had to ask.

“Pinned a gown? Yes.”

“Why?”

He turned his head from her but she’d seen his mouth tighten before he did. “Eva lost a great deal of weight in her final year. She couldn’t bear to leave our apartments and hated when strangers came to her, so I altered her clothing myself when I could.”

He slid another pin into the muslin with a smooth, practiced motion.

“Perhaps she would have been better off in Dorset then and not in France.”

Fred’s hands paused, head bent over her hem. He went so still she wondered if he had stopped breathing. Then he said, very quietly, “Perhaps.”

They were both silent then and Julianna was left to wrestle with the uncomfortable feeling that she was the one being unkind. Which was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Fred slid the final pins into place and leaned back slightly, still on his knees, when he was done. “There. It will hold until the seamstress can repair it properly.”

“We don’t have a seamstress.”

“Then allow me to send one over. Or a modiste. You can have any gown you desire, Miss Farrow. Money is no longer an object.”

“Stop buying your way into my life, Fred.”

He looked up at her at last, his expression hard. “Some things are necessary even if we wish they weren’t.”

“A new gown isn’t one of them.”

Mrs. Sykes appeared at the top of the landing, interrupting them. “My lord, my lady. Mister Farrow is settled for now, so I’ll just go and put my things down. Where shall I sleep?”

“You can sleep down here. I’ll stay with Thomas.” Julianna glanced at Fred, thinking he would fight her on that. But he didn’t. He just rose in one swift movement to his full, imposing height.

“The wedding will be at St. Oswald’s as soon as the license is procured. I’ll send the carriage for you.”