The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil. Sarah Mallory
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did not answer immediately. It should be easy, he made it sound so reasonable. Yet some instinct urged caution. She stifled it. If Lord Adversane could approach this in a logical fashion, then she could, too. After taking a few deep breaths she straightened her shoulders.
‘Yes, my lord, I can.’
* * *
A simple business transaction.
The words echoed around Lucy’s head when she lay in her bed through the dark reaches of the night. She could do this. The remuneration was worth a little sacrifice, surely. And if she was honest, the only sacrifice was that she should not allow herself to flirt with Lord Adversane. He roused in her a girlish spirit that had no place in her life now. When he was near she wanted to tease him, to make him laugh and drive away the sombre look that too often haunted his eyes. But his sorrow was none of her concern and she must be careful not to compromise herself.
‘I must not be alone with him, that is all,’ she told herself.
Surely that was no very arduous task when he had even brought in Ariadne to act as chaperone. All she had to do was to live like a lady in this beautiful house for another few weeks and she would walk away with more money than she could earn in a year. She turned over and cradled her cheek in her hand, finally falling asleep while engaged in the delightful task of thinking just what she might do with such a sum.
* * *
Lucy awoke to another brilliantly sunny day. Her spirits were equally bright. For a while, yesterday, she had thought she would be leaving all this luxury behind. Instead, she had a delectable prospect ahead of her. A visit from the dressmaker.
* * *
‘Byrne, where is Lord Adversane?’
Miss Halbrook’s enquiry echoed around the stone walls of the Great Hall. If the butler noted her flushed cheeks or the martial light in her eye he showed no sign of it and calmly informed her that she would find his lordship with Mr Colne.
It took Lucy a little time to find the steward’s office for she had not before entered the service wing of the house, but the delay did nothing to cool her temper. She knocked briefly and walked in without waiting for a response.
Lord Adversane and Mr Colne were standing by a large table, studying a plan of the estate.
‘I would like to speak to you, my lord,’ she said without preamble.
He raised his brows.
‘Can it not wait?’ One look at her face gave him his answer. He turned to Mr Colne. ‘Harry, will you go on to the stables and have the horses saddled? I will join you in five minutes.’ As the door closed behind the steward he leaned back against the table. ‘Very well, Miss Halbrook, what is it you want to say to me?’
‘It concerns the dressmaker.’
He glanced at the clock. ‘Has she not arrived?’
‘Oh, yes, she is here, my lord. She informs me that you have given her instructions—precise instructions—on the gowns she is to provide, down to the very colours and fabrics to be used.’
‘What of it?’
‘What—?’ She stared at him. ‘It is usual, my lord, for ladies to make their own decisions on what they wear.’
‘Do you not like the colours?’
‘That is not the point—’
‘And are the gowns too unfashionable for you?’
‘Not at all, but—’
‘Then I really do not see the problem.’
Lucy drew in a long and angry breath.
‘The problem,’ she said, with great emphasis, ‘is that I have no choice. I am to be measured and pinned and fitted like a—like a doll!’
‘Surely not.’ He picked up his hat and gloves from a side table. ‘I have no doubt Mrs Sutton will ask your opinion on trimmings and beads and so forth.’
‘Minor details!’
‘But it must suffice.’
He began to move towards the door and she stepped in front of him.
‘What you do not understand—’
‘What you do not understand,’ he interrupted her curtly, ‘is that this discussion is ended.’
She glared at him. ‘When I accused you of high-handedness yesterday, my lord, I did not think it would go so far!’
He fixed her with a steely gaze and addressed her in an equally chilling voice.
‘Miss Halbrook, remember that I am paying you very well for your time here. If I wish you to wear certain colours and styles of gown while you are under my roof then you will do so. Do I make myself clear?’
He was towering over her, as unyielding as granite. The cleft in his chin was more deeply defined than ever and there was no softness about him, not even in the grey wool of his riding jacket. He would not give in; she knew that from the implacable look in his eyes, but she would not look away, and as their gazes remained locked together she found other sensations replacing her anger.
Such as curiosity. What it would be like to kiss that firm mouth, to have his arms around her, to force him to bend to the will of her own passion...
Shocked and a little frightened by her thoughts, Lucy stepped back and dragged her eyes away from that disturbing gaze. There must be no repeat of yesterday. He must not think she was trying in any way to entice him. Better to summon up the resentment that had brought her here in the first place.
‘You have made yourself very clear, my lord.’
She ground out the words, staring at the floor, but he put his fingers under her chin and obliged her to look at him again.
He said softly, ‘I am not an ogre, Miss Halbrook. I have my reasons for this, believe me.’ He held her eyes for a moment longer before releasing her. He went to the door and opened it. ‘Now go back upstairs and continue being—ah—fitted and pinned. You are going to have more new clothes than you can count. When this is over you may take them all away with you. Most women would be delighted with the prospect.’
She found she was trembling. Despising her own weakness, Lucy dragged together her pride and managed to say with creditable calm, ‘I am not most women, my lord.’
‘No.’ His mouth twisted into a wry smile as she stalked out of the room. ‘No, you are not, Miss Halbrook.’
* * *
Lucy went back to the morning room where Mrs Dean and the dressmaker were engaged in discussing fabric samples and looking through the portfolio of drawings that Mrs Sutton had brought with her. She was shaken by her encounter with Lord Adversane, and a little chastened, too. He was, after all, her employer, and quite within his rights to dictate what she should wear. A little spirit flared to argue that it would have been better if he had explained all this at the outset, but it was a very tiny spark and soon died.
She gave herself up to the task of looking at the various designs and samples of fabrics. She soon discovered—as she had known all along, if only she had thought about it—that she did indeed have a degree of freedom in the choice of ribbons and trimmings to be added to each gown. By the end of the session her head was spinning with all the talk of closed robes, morning and day dresses, walking dresses and evening gowns, as well as the pelisses, cloaks and shawls required to go with them. Also—a last-minute addition that Lord Adversane had ordered in a note, delivered hotfoot to the dressmaker yesterday evening—a riding habit.
* * *
Although she knew she had no real choice, Lucy nodded and approved all the samples and sketches put before her. They were without exception elegant creations, not overly burdened with frills and ribbons, which suited her very well. As the dressmaker and her assistant