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“Would you want to be the dressmaker who tells a bride her gown was missing mere weeks before her wedding? Especially when she was the Duke of Daventry’s daughter? And Blake…” He gave a slight smile. “Well, he’s hoping we can remedy the situation before Demeter finds out.”
“I see.” Eleanor tapped a finger to her lips, then her eyes widened. “Oh goodness, there will never be enough time to create another. Demeter shall be devastated. She looked wonderful in it.”
“So there’s no chance of you arranging something else for her without her noticing?”
She fixed him with a stare. “I thought you were meant to know all about women. At least that’s what the—”
“Scandal sheets say?”
“Perhaps.” Eleanor made a clicking sound with her tongue and took a few paces toward a gilt mirror on one wall, then twisted on a heel and came to a stop in front of him again. The whole event took place in seconds yet gave him ample time to admire a curvaceous figure wrapped in light green muslin.
“The gown only needed a few adjustments and yes, it would be impossible to replace it or for Demeter not to notice, but why take it? A skein of silk would be easier to sell.”
“It is odd,” he admitted.
“I should go to the modiste’s. Perhaps there is a way I can find out what happened to it. Maybe it is simply mislaid.” She went to move past him, but Oliver stepped in front of her.
“I’ll come with you.”
She eyed him, her dark eyes feeling as though they delved deep inside him. Oliver shook away the sensation. He might enjoy teasing her, most certainly appreciated looking at her, but he didn’t need to have any odd sensations. All they needed to do was find this dress and he could go back to appreciating her from a distance.
And maybe dancing with her occasionally. Just to annoy his mother, naturally.
“I do not need your help,” she said tartly.
“Are you certain? Would you rather ask your brother to come or perhaps one of your sisters to play chaperone?”
Her lips thinned. “Anton will make a fuss—he cannot abide it when people break the law. And Aunt Sarah cannot be trusted to keep it a secret. And my sisters are busy.” She glanced him up and down. “I suppose you can come.”
“How lucky for me.”
“Why do you care so much about this dress anyway? I cannot imagine it bothers you if Demeter turns up at her wedding in an old gown.”
“Blake wants the day to be perfect for Demeter, and I want that for both of them. Believe it or not, Eleanor, I do have a heart.”
“I never suggested otherwise.”
“Oh did you not?” Oliver leaned in, appreciating the light scent of vanilla that lingered about her. “You do have me marked as quite the rogue, do you not, Ellie?”
“No one calls me that, you know.”
“Why not? It suits you.”
Eleanor’s lips parted and she eyed him. “Does it?”
“Do you not like it?”
“I suppose…” She gave a tiny shrug. “I suppose it’s acceptable.”
By some miracle, he held back a grin. She might not consider him a friend yet, but he was making progress.
Chapter Four
The sign hanging from the wrought iron pole swung in the gentle breeze. Eleanor stopped outside the modiste’s and glanced up and down the busy street. With the Season in full force London’s streets were busy, with clusters of people making their way to the tearooms or to simply sit in the park and enjoy the warm weather.
She pressed her lips together and looked Oliver up and down. Whilst she had to urge her way past people, they parted for him. If they did not know him for his title, his stature and natural air of confidence did the rest of the work.
She would not envy him, however. If she was prone to envy, she would have spent all her days mired in a soup of jealousy, especially given Cassie and Chastity’s natural vivaciousness. That did not mean she wasn’t slightly annoyed with him, though. At least her sisters were fully aware of their privilege.
