A rail-thin, elegant woman appeared, a couple of assistants behind her wheeling a rack full of dresses. In any normal circumstances, she looked as if she might have chased Nell away from the confection of silks and satins that were far beyond her purse, but she greeted Nell obsequiously.
An analysis followed of Nell’s colouring and figure, both of which were apparently perfect. Nell shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, and out of the corner of her eye she caught Hugo’s grin.
‘I think it all goes without saying, Madame, that my fiancée is perfect in every way.’ He got to his feet, advancing towards the rail, and Queen Margaux shrugged, dropping into a seat to watch. Clearly the preferred course of action when Hugo was in one of these moods was to wait a while, to let it all blow over.
‘Of course, Your Highness.’ Madame smiled beatifically at Nell.
‘Let’s have a look at these...’ He was shuffling through the dresses. ‘No...no...no... What about this one, Nell?’ He held up a dark blue dress and then shook his head. ‘No, it’s got a bow at the back.’
‘Detachable, of course, Prince Hugo.’
‘Oh. What do you think, Nell?’ He turned to Nell, suddenly still. Somewhere, deep in his eyes, she saw that maybe this wasn’t going to be as excruciating as she’d thought.
‘It’s...very nice.’
‘Watered silk, Miss Maitland.’ Madame’s voice held a tang of disapproval. Clearly very nice wasn’t the right reaction.
‘Hmm.’ Hugo peered at the bow at the back of the dress and shrugged. ‘Well, perhaps that can go on the “possible” pile.’
He looked around, obviously trying to decide where to put the dress, and Madame clicked her fingers. One of her assistants sprang to attention, wheeling an empty rail forward and taking the dress from Hugo.
‘This one, Prince Hugo?’ Madame tried to reassert herself, grabbing a fuchsia-pink sequined gown.
‘My fiancée is a doctor, Madame, not the Christmas Fairy.’
‘Hugo!’ Queen Margaux had been watching quietly, but now murmured a reproach.
‘Apologies, Madame. What do you think, Nell?’
‘It’s...not really my style.’ Nell smiled apologetically at Madame, who pursed her lips. ‘What about this one?’
‘Very plain.’ Madame took the dark green velvet dress from the rail. ‘Of course, with Queen Margaux’s emeralds, it would be most striking.’ Nell’s heart sank as Madame held the dress up against her.
Hugo shook his head. ‘Better without. What is it you say, Mother, wear the dress and don’t let the dress wear you?’
Queen Margaux stifled a laugh. ‘Yes, exactly. When did you become so interested in women’s couture, Hugo?’
‘Nell’s been teaching me all kinds of things,’ he responded dryly, and his mother smiled. ‘Let’s put that with the “possibles” and leave the emeralds for later.’
They’d whittled the dresses down to four. Three blue and the green one, which Madame was obviously regretting putting on the rail to bring to the palace. Hugo was questioning Madame closely on the latest trends in menswear, which gave Nell a chance to slip away alone to put the first dress on. When she returned, Madame practically ran over to her, tugging unnecessarily at the bodice.
‘Perfect...perfect.’ She turned to Hugo as if Nell didn’t exist, looking for his reaction.
‘You like it, Nell?’ Hugo’s gaze found hers.
‘It’s...it looks beautiful.’ Nell looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Was that really her? ‘It’s a little tight.’
‘Form-fitting...’ Madame murmured the words.
‘I’d recommend breathing over form-fitting. Can you breathe, Nell? On a scale of one to ten.’
Nell grinned at him. ‘About three and a half. Maybe only three if I’m sitting down.’
‘Well, go and take it off quickly. Before I have to resuscitate you...’
* * *
The dress was chosen. Hugo had somehow managed to infer that the diamond earrings and bracelet that his mother was lending to go with it were all Madame’s idea, and she’d left, trailing the scent of slightly mollified disapproval in her wake. Queen Margaux had asked Hugo whether he was going to interfere when the hairdresser arrived, and he’d shrugged. Nell had laughingly told him that she thought she could manage alone.