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“Oh, all right,” Rose relented. “Let’s be a bit wicked this afternoon.”
Lily opened the door to summon a servant to uncork one of the bottles and found a housemaid ready to knock. “The modiste is here, my lady.”
“I forgot all about her,” Lily said. “Set her up in an extra chamber, and come fetch me when she’s ready, will you?”
“Yes, milady.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our little celebration,” she said to Rose. “I’m having a gown fitted for the ball.”
“How wonderful!”
“Would you like a new gown? Come with me.”
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“Of course you could. I’m almost a duchess, after all.”
“No, Lily. I’ll wait here for you, and we can drink wine and eat chocolate when you get back. But for now, there’s one more gift to open.”
Lily stared at the large gift covered in brown paper wrapping. “Don’t let me stop you,” she said.
Rose carefully removed the wrapping. Lily gasped bringing one hand to her cheek and squeezing Brandy with the other until the puppy squealed.
“Lily, this isn’t…”
Lily nodded.
“The Vermeer? Oh my,” Rose said, staring. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“I can’t accept it. It’s too much. In fact, I can’t accept any of this.” Brandy squirmed in her arms. “I’ll keep one.” She stroked the puppy’s sleek head. “I’ll keep Brandy. Daniel said she’s too little to be a hunting dog. What will become of her if I don’t care for her?” She looked around at the gifts. “And I’m keeping the art supplies. But that’s it. Well, the chocolates. They’ll just go bad anyway.” She fingered the diamond-and-ruby necklace, and then the Dickens novel. “Oh… But I can’t. I’m just keeping Brandy.”
Rose’s lips curved upward. “It seems he knows you a little better than you think.”
A knock on the door signaled that the modiste was ready. “I’ll only be an hour or so,” Lily said to Rose. “Would you keep an eye on Brandy for me?”
“I’d love to. May I take her outside?”
“Of course, she’ll love that. Take her to visit her brothers and sisters. But be back here in an hour, and we’ll have our wine and chocolates.”
Lily left the room and followed a maid to the chamber where the modiste had set up shop. “Good afternoon,” she said to a pleasantly plump red-haired woman.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” the modiste said in a clearly contrived French accent. “I am Madame LeRou. I understand you wish a gown for a ball this evening?”
“Yes. I’m terribly sorry for the short notice, but rest assured that my…intended will see that you are compensated at whatever rate you wish. Our betrothal is going to be announced tonight.”
“How very wonderful for you, my dear. And your intended is?”
Lily cleared her throat. “The Duke of Lybrook.”
“The duke? Splendide! How lucky you are. If I were twenty years younger, I would marry him myself. This calls for a special gown.”
“Yes, I would like something…frivolous and compelling. Something that stands out in a crowd.”
“With your beauty, ma belle, you already stand out. What are you thinking by way of couleur?”
“Something bright. Vivid, actually.”
