Mary cringed as she imagined the way her sister would crow after receiving the invitation.“Please don’t invite Lowenbrock’s family.Edwina will be insufferable enough bragging to all her friends that she’s now friends with the Marchioness of Lowenbrock and her handsome husband.I wouldn’t want your sisters-in-law to be taken in by her flattery.”
Amelia patted her knee.“You needn’t fear about that.You’ve met Catherine and Louisa.John’s sisters are levelheaded and are unlikely to be taken in by honeyed words.”
Mary nodded in reply, but she couldn’t help the twinge of fear that went through her.What if Edwina was genuinely nice to everyone but her?Her sister did have friends in town, after all, so she wasn’t always hateful.
Which would mean that perhaps there was something unlikeable about Mary.She tried to push the unwelcome thought from her mind, knowing that to entertain it further would be to play right into her sister’s hands.For some reason Edwina had painted her as the villain their entire lives, and the distance between them only worsened when their parents died and Mary had gone to live with her and Baron Fairbanks.She didn’t know why her sister disliked her so much, but she refused to give her the satisfaction of sowing doubt into her friendships.
She changed the subject to her friend’s writing.She’d known that Amelia was working on a novel but hadn’t realized it had been published.
Her mouth dropped open when Amelia told her she was the author ofA Fallen Lady.
“I will give you a copy of course.I wanted to tell you the moment the book was accepted but didn’t want to risk your sister learning that information.”
Mary closed her mouth with a snap.“Edwina’s been talking about that novel.She says it’s quite scandalous and that everyone is trying to discover the author’s identity.”
Amelia’s smile held more than a hint of amusement.“I know.I can’t tell you how many people have approached me with the most outlandish theories about the author.”
Mary shook her head in amazement.She’d always thought her friend was talented, but pride filled her at Amelia’s accomplishment.
The trip to Bond Street passed quickly as Amelia told her about how the novel’s opening scene was based on her first meeting with her husband.She’d been working as a barmaid one evening as research for her book, and he’d come to her rescue when one of the patrons had gotten a little too friendly.
Which meant that when she returned home and realized the man who had saved her that evening was none other than her uncle’s long-sought heir, she’d spent the first few weeks of their acquaintance dressed in frumpy clothing and wearing her reading glasses to hide her identity whenever she was in his presence.
Amelia had her in stitches when the carriage slowed to a halt.They thanked the footman who helped them down, and Mary followed her friend.
They entered the modiste’s store to the sound of delicate bells chiming.The air was perfumed with an exotic scent that somehow enticed the senses without being overwhelming.
“My lady.”A very pretty woman with dark hair greeted them with a deep curtsy.Her accent identified her as French, and Mary could only assume this was the modiste.The woman’s hair was jet black, the slight lines around her eyes the only sign she was older than she appeared.“I did not realize you would be visiting my humble store today.I will turn the sign so we won’t be disturbed…”
“There will be no need,” Mary said.“We are only here to purchase one or two gowns.I don’t want you to turn away any customers on my behalf.”
Madame Argent froze at her words.Mary waited while the woman looked her up and down.If the modiste thought to intimidate her, she would have to try harder.Edwina’s criticisms had long since inured her to the censure of others.
“Of course, if you’re too busy to accommodate Miss Trenton, we can always go elsewhere…” Amelia began.
“Non, I will not hear of it.”Her smile widened, and she twirled one finger in the air.
With a sigh, Mary rotated in place and braced herself for the inevitable criticisms.
“Mon dieu, her clothing is quite out of date.Who has been dressing her?”
“Clearly no one as talented as you,” Amelia said.
Madame Argent took the compliment as her due.“That goes without saying,non?But never mind, I shall take her on.”She took hold of Mary’s dress and pulled it back to reveal the curves hiding beneath the loose fabric that gathered just below her bosom.“Oh yes, I can do much here.I don’t know why you are hiding your figure,ma cherie, but together we will unearth it.”
The modiste snapped her fingers at another woman, who approached and started flitting about, taking Mary’s measurements while the modiste watched them with narrowed eyes.
Mary turned to her friend, who was looking through a book that she assumed contained dress designs.In that moment, Amelia seemed every inch a marchioness.
Her friend looked up and caught Mary watching her.“What is it?”
Mary shook her head.“What happened to the shy, studious young woman I used to know?”
Amelia grinned back at her.“Oh, she’s still here.If I take off my gloves, you’ll find that my fingers are covered with ink stains.”
“Still, you’ve taken to your new role as though you were born to it.”
The seamstress stepped away and brought the measurements to the modiste.They consulted together in the corner, their voices low.