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“Lady Darcy, how delightful to see you again.”
Noelle had a lilting Italian accent. Although Sherdana shared borders with both France and Italy, it had chosen Italian as its official national language. With her dark hair and walnut-colored eyes, Noelle’s lineage could have gone back to either country, but from earlier conversations Olivia knew the designer’s ancestry could be traced back to the 1500s. Noelle might not be one of Sherdana’s nobility, but the church kept excellent records.
“It’s good to see you, as well,” Olivia said, warming to the willowy designer all over again. Choosing to have a dress made by Noelle had been easy in so many ways. Although her London friends had counseled Olivia to go with a more famous designer and have an extravagant gown made, Olivia had decided she much preferred Noelle’s artistry. Plus Noelle was Sherdanian. It made political sense for Olivia to show her support of the country where she would soon be a princess, especially taking into consideration how hard-hit Sherdana’s economy had been in the past few years.
“I have your dress waiting in here.” Noelle showed Olivia into a dressing room.
For her more famous clients, Noelle often traveled for fittings. She would have brought the dress to the palace if Olivia had requested. But Olivia liked the shop’s cozy feel and wasn’t eager to entertain anyone’s opinion but her own.
The dress awaiting her was as beautiful as she remembered from the sketches. It had stood out among the half dozen Noelle had shown her six months ago; in fact, the rendering had taken her breath away.
With the help of Noelle’s assistants, Olivia donned the dress. Facing the three-way mirror, she stared at her reflection, and was overcome with emotion. It was perfect.
From the bodice to her thighs, the dress hugged the lean curves of her body. Just above her knees it flared into a full skirt with a short train. Made of silk organza, embroidered with feathery scrolls over white silk, the gown’s beauty lay in its play of simple lines and rich fabrics. Although Noelle had designed the dress to be strapless, Olivia had requested some sort of small sleeve and the designer had created the illusion of cap sleeves by placing two one-inch straps on either shoulder.
“What are planning to do for a veil?” Noelle asked.
“The queen is lending me the tiara she wore on her wedding day,” Olivia said. “I’m not sure I want to use a veil with it.”
“Good. When I designed the dress, I didn’t picture it with a veil.” Noelle stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You have lost a little weight since we measured you. The waist needs to be taken in a little.”
Olivia turned sideways to peer at the way the short train looked behind her. “I will try not to gain before the wedding.”
For the next hour, Noelle and her staff worked on minor alterations to the fit. While Olivia thought the dress fit well enough that she could have worn it as is, Noelle was obviously a perfectionist.
“I have another project that I’d like to talk to you about,” Olivia said as Noelle handed off the dress to her assistant.
Ever since arriving, she’d been thinking about including the twins in the wedding. While Gabriel seemed okay with the idea, she wasn’t sure how his family would react, but after this morning’s media coverage of the girls’ arrival at the palace, hiding them from public scrutiny would be impossible and counterproductive.
“Come into my office,” Noelle said. “Tell me what you have in mind.”
Sipping the coffee Noelle’s assistant had provided, Olivia contemplated the best way to begin, then decided to just dive in.
“Did you happen to see the news this morning?”
“About Prince Gabriel’s daughters?” Noelle pressed her lips together. “The royal family hasn’t given them much fodder for stories in the last few years. I’m afraid the level of coverage on this particular item so close to your wedding is just too huge for them to use restraint.”
“Dealing with the media comes with the territory,” Olivia said. “You’d know that.”
Noelle looked startled for a second. “I only design for the stars,” she demurred. “I’m not one of them myself.”
“You are making a name for yourself. Don’t be surprised when you become as big a story as your clients.”
“I hope that doesn’t happen. I like my quiet little life.” Noelle’s gaze touched a silver frame on her desk. It held the photo of a small dark-haired boy. The angle didn’t offer a very good view of his face, but Olivia could tell from Noelle’s expression that he was very special to her.
“Is he your son?”
“Yes. Marc. He was two in that picture. The same age as the prince’s daughters.”
Olivia felt a clenching low in her abdomen. A cry from her empty womb. “He’s beautiful. How old is he now?”
“Almost four.”
Olivia didn’t ask about the boy’s father. She knew Noelle wasn’t currently married and wasn’t sure if the question would arouse difficult memories.
“I would like to include Prince Gabriel’s daughters in the wedding and want you to make dresses for them.”
“I’ll work on some sketches and send them over to the palace. Did you have a color in mind?”
