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"But I have," he pulled away and looked her into the eyes. "Whatever it is, it is going to be all right."
"Promise me that whatever happens, you will not forsake us.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Edwina was sitting before her vanity table two days after that unfortunate incident at the stables, finishing her morning toilette with Danny’s help when Albert walked in.
Danny bobbed a quick curtsy before giving them some privacy. He stood behind her and dropped a fond kiss on her head before announcing, "You have a caller."
"Me?" she asked, surprised. She was not expecting anyone. Kitty was her only friend, and the only people that would call upon her were all here at Hersings with her. Her mind fleetingly conjured the disturbing image of that face from the stables before she quickly blocked her imagination.
"Are you ready?" Albert took her hand in his and dropped a kiss into her palm.
“Who is it?” she asked as they left the room. He shrugged, refusing to tell her who it was as he led her down the stairs to one of the drawing rooms.
A gasp escaped her lips at what was waiting for her. It was as if she was in a dress-making shop; there was a profusion of fabrics and accessories of all kinds all over the room. In the middle of it all was a plump woman who could only be the caller he had spoken of.
"I am Madame Célestine," the woman beamed. "It is a pleasure to be of service, Your Graces." She had a heavy French accent, but it was far from the exaggerated one that was generally used among modistes.
"I sent for the modiste from London many days ago," Albert said, beaming.
"Before the wedding?" Edwina asked in surprise.
"I was determined," he grinned.
"This is the entire shop, Albert," she breathed in awe, her gaze traveling over the surfeit of colors.
"You deserve no less." He kissed her cheek. "I am sure the Duchess of Rowan has excellent taste."
"His Grace wasexplicitthat I bring my entire shop with me," Madame Célestine announced. "This is not all of it, of course, but I do hope it will do."
"Did you really mean that?" Edwina turned to him with a laugh.
"I do not do things in small measures, Darling."
A young woman walked into the room then, closely followed by two footmen bearing more boxes. "Set it down there," the girl instructed with an equally thick accent before turning to them and curtsying.
"This is my daughter, Monique. She is also my apprentice, and she shall be assisting us today." Madame Célestine beamed proudly. Monique gave a confident smile that rivaled her mother's.
"Very well." Albert clapped his hands together. "I spoke to Lady Matthews and asked if she and Miss Matthews could join you, Edwina. I must be on my way."
"You are not staying?" Edwina asked, already feeling bereft.
"I have some business to attend to. Sadly, I must go." He responded before leaning in close and whispering in her ear, "For the ball, torment me with something I would enjoy tearing off you after." His warm breath teased a path from her earlobe down to her very core.
Edwina's throat dried, and she started drawing up images of how to carry out his request. Excitement brewed within her.
"Be careful what you wish for, Darling," she whispered back to him, feeling the heat on her cheeks. An excited squeal tore their gaze from each other. Kitty and Camilla were by the drawing room door.
"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," Camilla said to Albert, excusing her daughter's behavior. Kitty on the other hand looked as though she was unable to see anything or anyone in the room save for the fabrics and catalogs before her.
"You three have a pleasant morning selecting everything you want," Albert said, and when Camilla made to object, he held up a hand. "Consider it a gift. I am grateful to you for looking after Edwina. You gave her a family."
With a smile at Edwina, he left. Camilla looked as though she was going to cry when she turned to Edwina. "Kitty and I cannot express what you mean to us, Edwina." Camilla took her hands and squeezed them gently. "I am glad you have finally found the happiness you deserve, My Dear."
Madame Célestine cleared her throat, reminding them of her presence. They gave her their complete attention, perusing the catalogs and having all their measurements taken.
"What do you think of violet brocade, Your Grace?" the modiste asked, looking about her as though searching for something. "I could have sworn I kept a sample somewhere around." She began to draw fabric swatches from the boxes now.
