Page 62 of Only Pleasure Will Do

Chapter 26

“And of course, mademoiselle will require at least five ball gowns if she is to be part of the social whirl this season.” Madam Brodeur made neat little ticks next to items on a long list she’d brought with her from her shop, apparently prepared to dress Maddy for every possible contingency.

“I believe seven will be required, madam.” Katarina’s tone, firm and matter of fact, set the mantua-maker to nodding as she immediately added descriptions of the additional gowns. “This Season is Miss Forrester’s debut, and her apparel must be perfectly prepared.”

Maddy started then a blush crept into her cheeks. She still wasn’t used to being called by the old name—even less with the most familiar “Maddy” as Katarina insisted on addressing her. Almost as appalling as the stacks of clothing her hostess was insisting on purchasing. As Amorina Vestry, she had dressed elegantly, although on the far edge of good taste, to give the appearance of a prosperous businesswoman. She’d managed nicely on three or four very good ensembles for each season. Since her clientele seldom visited more than once a week, few saw her in the same costume more than once or twice a month. As the gentlemen were usually much more interested in her girls than her, she doubted they ever gave her appearance more than a passing thought.

According to her new sponsor, however, this would not be the case when she entered Society. Everyone apparently saw everyone at each evening’s entertainments, and it was expected that they dress to the nines for all of them, wearing a new outfit each night and repeating their usage twice at the most. By the time the Season was over, Maddy would have spent a small fortune on clothing she’d end up giving to charity as she would buy more clothing to take into the country as soon as Parliament recessed in August.

Sighing at the thought of the wasted money, Maddy held her lips in a tight smile. Perhaps she could give the clothing to the women at the House of Pleasure, although it would likely go unused unless the girls could alter the garments into something more provocative, which would be a shame. Unfortunately, the gentlemen who frequented her establishment saw such gowns every day at their homes. They repaired to the House of Pleasure for something different, more titillating, more revealing. Certainly not the same fashions they had observed over the breakfast table.

Then, too, the women who might enjoy wearing such clothing again might also be reminded of the existence they’d led before the brothel had become their only refuge. Such a gift would therefore be a two-edged sword, ready to wound her ladies at every turn. Best find another charity better served by their donation.

“Oui, my lady.” The mantua-maker’s voice brought Maddy back to the comfortable receiving room. “I shall set my seamstresses to the task immédiatement. When will they be needed?”

“As soon as possible, of course, although I know you will need some time to complete the order. Can the first three or four day gowns be completed first?” Kat stared sternly at the seamstress. “Miss Forrester must have clothing so we may begin paying calls before her official debut.”

Maddy tensed, gripping the skirt of her lavender-and-gold striped gown—one of several hastily borrowed from Lady Trevor—so tightly she feared it would rip. Every time she thought about actually showing her face in public, her stomach threatened to cast up its accounts.

Laying a friendly hand on Maddy’s, Kat patted the fist until it loosened a trifle. “Do not worry, my dear. I assure you, you will be fine.” She looked back at Madame Brodeur and smiled. “Miss Forrester has resided in the country until just recently and is a bit shy about meeting new people. But I am sure that when attired in your lovely creations, madame, she will have the courage of a lion.”

“Clothes make all the difference, my lady. If anyone knows that, it is I.” The woman looked Maddy up and down then nodded as if to herself. “The rose flowered round gown will be the best for your coloring, Miss Forrester. I also have a white muslin with embroidered pink and green flowers embellished with gold that will make a most becoming robe à l’anglaise.” She consulted her list. “I can have those two ready for fitting by day after tomorrow. When I come, I will bring some lengths of silk and indienne muslin for you to decide on. Do you have a preference for color, mademoiselle?”

Glancing hesitantly at Kat, who smiled and nodded, Maddy ventured, “I am fond of a strong blue, not pastel.” She sent a sheepish look at the marchioness. “I don’t care for pastels much at all.”

“Then please don’t feel obligated to choose them, my dear.” Kat patted her hand. “These are your gowns. Order what you like.”

“I will bring a variety, my lady.” Tucking her list into her reticule, the mantua-maker rose. “One never knows what will take one’s fancy until you see it, n’est-ce pas?”

“Very true, madam. We will look forward to your visit the day after tomorrow. The footman just outside the door will see you out.” Kat smiled and the woman curtsied deeply then left.

Slumping back in her seat, Maddy sighed deeply. “I’m afraid I will be no help at all with this scheme, Kat.”

“Courage, Maddy.” The marchioness poured them both more tea then rang for the butler. “We will fortify ourselves a little now, before discussing your debut. You have been resting, as you should, but that means we have not had the chance to plan anything. There are still many things that need to be decided upon.”

“You sound like a general planning strategy in a war.” Maddy smiled grimly. She’d used such tactics herself when trying to discover the best ways to make the House of Pleasure profitable enough to meet Sir Peter’s demands and set aside a little for herself after all the other expenses of running the establishment.

“Just so.” The door opened and Kat ordered more tea, waited for Grayson to leave, then continued. “We must devise a story explaining why you have been living in the country the past six years. Then a plausible reason for your return to London just now.”

“Have you or the marquess given any thought about what to put about regarding Madam Vestry?” Maddy had to stop herself from whispering the name, as though to say it aloud would bring the wretched woman back to life. If that identity could be made to disappear, she would be more than grateful.

Katarina laughed gaily. “Oh, Duncan has taken it upon himself to rid us, and England too, of the madam.” She picked up her teacup, tasted it, and grimaced. “I hope Grayson will not be tardy with that tea. This is dreadfully cold.” She set it back in its saucer and drew her shawl around her shoulders. “But back to Duncan’s scheme. Yesterday, he went to his club and put it about to some of the gentlemen there that it had come to his attention, through his connection with Sir Reginald, that after her attempt on our lives, Madam Vestry had absconded with all the money from the House of Pleasure and fled to the Continent.”

“Good Lord.” Hearing herself—or rather her old identity—accused of such a thing made her shiver and want to deny the claim. She would never have done such a thing to her girls. However, it made perfect sense for Madam Vestry to do so at the first opportunity.

“If they believe Duncan, and they have no reason not to, Society will soon be abuzz with the news and take it for truth instead of hum.”

They would be very lucky indeed if this story were believed so completely. Maddy sent a prayer heavenward, something she’d not done for years, that the tale would be swallowed whole by Society. But that only accomplished part of their task. “I’ve been thinking about reasons I would have gone into the country so soon after arriving in London, although most people likely didn’t know I existed at the time. I wasn’t out of the schoolroom yet, so I’d hardly been seen by anyone.” She frowned, mulling it over. “We could say that I was so grief-stricken by my father’s death that I asked to leave Town.” There was more than a little truth in the statement.

“That would be plausible, I think. Thank you, Grayson.” The butler had arrived with tea, followed by two footmen carrying large platters of bread and butter, muffins, and cakes. By tacit agreement, they paused in their conversation until the servants had left. “You could have gone to a cousin, perhaps. To say you stayed with your father’s servants might seem overly odd.”

“True.” Maddy helped herself to a muffin then stopped and surveyed the heaping tray. “You look to be feeding an army, Kat.”

“Juliet, Lady Trevor, and Lady Manning should arrive momentarily.” Her hostess took a cake and broke it in half, licking the icing from first one half then the other. “They have agreed to come help with all aspects of your debut.”

Maddy stopped, her teeth sunk in the buttered muffin, her appetite suddenly gone. Not that she disliked the ladies. She’d become easier in her manner with Juliet, because, well, one could never be uncomfortable with Juliet. The other ladies, however, she still felt shy around, even though they’d been perfectly kind. Especially strained was her acquaintance with Lady Trevor, who had actually worked for her at the House of Pleasure for a short time—just long enough to meet Lord Trevor and have him fall in love with her. Even though the arrangement had turned out right, Maddy was overcome with guilt whenever she looked at the lady. She’d sent Lord Trevor to Violet specifically to deflower her. That had been part and parcel of her business at the establishment, and Violet had not been the first to have undergone such a trial. Of course, she’d chosen Lord Trevor with care because of a certain set of circumstances that had predisposed him to rescue rather than ruin the woman. Unfortunately, that justification did not help in the least when meeting Lady Trevor in a social setting.

“Is something wrong?” Kat’s keen gaze rested on Maddy’s face.