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“Sorry,” Lucy said, without an ounce of regret in the word. She tossed a pile of newspapers onto the counter, and Kate’s eyes widened. Kate had been so desperate for more news that she’d even considered asking the old dray driver if he’d come across any. But Mr. Fost had hired a new man, so her pitiful plan had been foiled.
She realized that Lucy had been speaking. “I’m sorry, Lucy. What did you say?”
“I said, if you’re going to London, you must have a new dress. Well . . . you must have a new dress before you go, and you must have six or seven while you’re there.”
“Lucy . . .” Kate only barely managed to tear her eyes from the papers. “I’m only going to meet with a—”
“Oh, whoever cares why you are going? You must look pretty regardless.”
Kate had too many problems to worry over pretty dresses. For example, that pile of old papers must be read. Today, tonight, at the next possible moment. But the thought of a dress intrigued her as well. The dull browns and grays of her wardrobe now depressed her. Everywhere she went these days, young, beautiful women drew her eye in their bright colors and tantalizing fabrics. She wanted to be bright and tantalizing too, but she was very afraid she’d only look foolish, like a staid widow trying to recapture her youth.
She smoothed the palms of her hands down the brown wool of her skirt and tried to look stern. “I leave in three days. There is no time for a new dress.”
“Nonsense. I’d imagine the dressmaker has a ready-made piece she’d be happy to part with. I’d say you’re quite an average size. There’s no reason to think she couldn’t take something in.”
Kate didn’t know whether to be happy or insulted to be considered entirely average. She decided on happy, but her gaze strayed to the papers Lucy had delivered and her happiness vanished.
“Come. Let’s go now.”
Kate blinked and shook her head. “I can’t go now. I’ve too much to do before I leave. As it is, the shop will be closed for days.”
“Then a half hour of time today will hardly change that. Come.”
She tried to resist. She really did. But the truth was that she wanted to go. The idea of showing up on Aidan’s doorstep in a brown wool dress . . . Kate had to bite back a shudder. She’d likely be sent around to the kitchen to apply as the new maid. So she let Lucy tug her from the shop and lead her four blocks over to Madame Durand’s.
Bells jingled as Lucy pushed open the door of the modiste. A plump woman in a simple day dress hurried out of the back.
“Miss Cain! A new dress already?”
“Amazingly, I’m not shopping for myself this time. You should send a note of congratulations to my father. Instead I’ve brought along Mrs. Hamilton, who owns the coffee shop on Guys Lane. She needs a new dress. Today!”
Madame Durand introduced herself in a voice that held not a hint of a French accent, then looked Kate over assessingly, her graying blond curls a-tremble. “How do you feel about royal blue?”
“Pardon?” Kate whispered.
“I have a lovely gown of royal blue and cream stripe. With a few nips here and there, I think it will work nicely.”
“Oh.” Kate hesitated. “I don’t know about such bright colors. . . .”
“Here,” Madame Durand said with an efficient wave of her hand. “I’ll retrieve it.”
Kate’s mind tipped between temptation and practicality. Where would she ever wear such a dress again? But then Madame Durand returned with the dress draped over her arm, and Kate was lost.
The colors were so sweet, the fine silk wool so crisp and lovely. The full skirt was gathered up at the hips, and she could imagine the sway of the bustle as she walked.
“I am a merchant,” she reminded herself aloud. “A serious-minded—”
“You are a woman first,” Madame Durand said. “And all women like to feel pretty.” For good measure, she added a tortured “Oui?”
Oh, Kate did want to feel pretty. She wanted to look pretty. She wanted to descend the stairway of Aidan’s London home and remind him of the girl she’d once been.
“Your figure is outstanding.” The dressmaker walked slowly around her.
Lucy nodded in vigorous agreement. “The blue will be so lovely with your skin.” Kate flushed.
“Yes,” the modiste agreed. “Yellow would be nice, but we’ll wait for spring.”
“Yellow!” Kate began, alarmed at the suggestion.
