by Louise Allen
‘No, no, dear,’ Jane protested. ‘It will never do to patronise a modiste at random. We must consider who will best enhance your style and make gowns suitable for a debutante.’
‘I have heard well of Madame Franchot,’ Nicci said excitedly. ‘Diane – our dear friend Madame de Rostan, who lived near us in Jamaica – patronises her when she comes to England, and Diane always wears the most stunning gowns.’
Marissa, fighting to keep her composure, said nothing but Jane said, ‘No, dear, that would not be a suitable choice. Madame Franchot does not specialise in gowns for young ladies just out, you will be able to shop at her establishment when you are married. But farther down Bruton Street there is an establishment owned by a dressmaker who previously worked for Madame Lavall and I hear she produces the most charming, fresh gowns that will be quite your style.’
‘Very well. And then I will need shoes, and bonnets, and reticules and stockings…’
Marissa laughed at Nicci’s ambitious programme. ‘We will need to plan our days like a military campaign, Nicci, if we are to get through it all.’
A floorboard creaked and Marcus walked into the drawing room, a wicked smile on his lips, his tall figure immaculate in evening dress. ‘Nicci, I am sorry to disappoint you, but Marissa is coming shopping with me tomorrow.’
Marissa looked up, startled, then sent him a reproving frown for teasing his sister.
‘Marcus, don’t be a beast,' Nicci protested. ‘And Marissa can’t go shopping with you. It would not be proper for her to go to tailors and bootmakers. Even I know that.’
‘Oh, I was not intending to buy clothes, sister dear. No, we have something far more important to engage us. Marissa is going to assist me in redecorating this house.’
Nicci was immediately diverted. ‘How wonderful – I knew Marissa could not really like this chilly place, although naturally I would not say so. Now, for my room I want a pink silk tented ceiling and gauze bed curtains, and a shell-shaped bath in my dressing room…’
‘Tell me, Nicci, how have you managed to imagine a room better suited to a class of female I devoutly hope you will never encounter?’
‘My lord,’ Miss Venables cautioned, but Nicci simply pouted at her brother.
‘Stuffy man! I saw it illustrated in the Lady's Intelligencer last month. It was beautiful.’
‘Well, I have no intention of redecorating your room, whatever your journals say. It will soon be buried under piles of shopping in any case. No, we will begin with the hall and the Salon. Marissa, at what hour tomorrow would it be convenient for you to accompany me to Schomberg House? Harding, Howell and Company are reputed to have the latest styles in furniture.’
The thought of spending an intimate day in Marcus’s company choosing furnishings like a married couple was dangerously attractive. Marissa dropped her gaze. ‘I regret that I will be unable to give any attention to furnishings until we have ordered our gowns, my lord. Surely you would not have the house redecorated but none of us fit to entertain in it?’
Marcus crossed one leg over another and looked at her steadily. ‘Come, Marissa, you are reneging on our agreement.’
‘Not at all. I am more than willing to assist you, but all in good time: I had not realised that you were in quite such a hurry, my lord.’
‘I know what it is,’ Nicci teased. ‘Marcus is going to catch a wife and he wants the house to be in the mode to impress the ladies. Is that not so, brother? Deny it if you dare.’
There was time for two heartbeats before Marcus said, ‘Of course. And I must be sure that the house will reflect the taste of the lady I would marry.’
‘Aha!’ Nicci said triumphantly. ‘Hoist by your own petard – whatever that is. You cannot be in a hurry, for how can you redecorate until you have found the lady and discovered her taste?’
Marcus laughed. ‘Touché, brat. Very well, I release Marissa for your orgy of shopping, but I reserve the right to claim her later.’
Marissa’s heart thudded. What a thing to say. What a wonderful thought. It appeared he was still bent on marrying her but she would not, could not, fall in with his plans for her to be the new Countess of Longminster. The realities of marriage would be far worse this time because she loved Marcus, she knew that now. She could not bear to have that love destroyed by marriage when he would all too soon realise she could never be a true wife to him.
‘If we are to make an early start tomorrow we should retire,’ Jane said firmly. ‘Nicci, if you do not go to bed this instant, I can promise that you will have black circles under your eyes. Come along now, say goodnight to your brother and Marissa.'
Left alone, neither Marissa nor Marcus spoke. She because she could not, he because he seemed quite at his ease simply sitting and regarding the flames of the small fire flickering in the grate.
At last the silence became so oppressive, and the tension of waiting for him to speak so great, that Marissa blurted out, 'May I take the barouche – ’
Marcus spoke at the same moment. ‘Would you like to take the barouche tomorrow morning?’ He laughed as their words collided. ‘We appear to think as one.’
‘On that matter, yes,’ she said, as repressively as she could. ‘I would be grateful for the carriage and, if I may, I will take James. I suspect that the groom will find the number of packages too many for him to manage alone.’
‘Take all the footmen, you will probably need them if my little sister has her way. I think I had better go and speak to my banker tomorrow – I will likely have to sell out of Government stocks to pay for this come-out.’
Marissa bit her lip. ‘Perhaps you should let me know what limit you wish to set on Nicci’s expenditure and then I can ensure she remains within it.’
‘No, let her have what you feel is suitable. There is nobody whose taste and judgement I trust more than yours, Marissa. But do not let her monopolise all your time – you have your own plans, I know. And,’ he added, his gaze warm on her face, ‘I look forward to seeing you out of mourning.’
Marissa flushed at both compliments and rose. Marcus got to his feet in response. ‘Jane is quite right, as usual. I will retire,’ she said. ‘We have all had a fatiguing day, with the prospect of another tomorrow. Goodnight, Marcus.’
She smiled and turned to leave, but he came and took her hand in his, brushing his lips lightly over her knuckles in a formal salute. ‘Goodnight, Marissa.’
Marcus continued to stand after she had left, gazing thoughtfully at where she had sat. Marissa was an enigma to him. Behind the perfect facade of control and elegance was a laughing, passionate, instinctive young woman and yet the passion seemed to go only so far and was strangely innocent, at variance with her previously married state. It was almost as if it was curbed by something. He searched his mind for the word, but only fear came to mind. That was too preposterous. He shook his head in denial and went to pour himself another brandy from the decanter. What in the world could Marissa have to be afraid of?
Chapter Fifteen
‘Oh, Marissa, may I really have the figured silk?’ Nicci breathed. ‘It is so lovely.' She twisted and turned in front of the cheval glass, holding her hands away from the white fabric as though afraid to touch it.
‘Yes, I think it will be perfect as your best ball gown. But, Madame, it must be cut a little higher in the bodice and I am not certain about the silver floss at the hem. Jane, what do you think?’
Jane turned from her scrutiny of several bolts of muslin and considered the gown. ‘I agree, dear. It is too fussy for Lady Nicole. I always believe that understatement is better on a young lady.’
‘Might I suggest a pearl beading, as we have on this gown?’ Madame Lefevre crooked a finger and an assistant scurried forward with a sample.
‘Yes, very pretty, and if that could be repeated on the puff sleeves along the line of the lace…’
‘But, yes,’ the modiste exclaimed. ‘Your ladyship has impeccable taste. May I show Lady Nicole any other gowns?’
&nbs
p; The little assistant, who seemed scarcely older than Nicole, brought the ladies glasses of orgeat and almond wafer biscuits and they reviewed their purchases.
‘Now, we have the white silk ball gown for best, the almond green for less formal parties, the fawn walking dress with the chocolate-brown pelisse…’ Jane ticked off on her fingers. ‘Your riding habit we will have tailored, your country one will do for the meantime. What you are lacking are simple day dresses. I suggest we visit some of the linen drapers and select some dress lengths for Mary to make up for you.’
Nicci clapped her hands with sheer pleasure. ‘More dresses? Oh, yes please!’
They arranged for the delivery of the new gowns as soon as possible and made their way out to the waiting barouche. Nicci’s dread of being seen in an open carriage in a dress of less than fashionable cut had been forgotten in the excitement of driving behind her brother’s newly acquired matched bays with a liveried coachman on the box and two footmen standing behind.
Marissa consulted her notebook. ‘Shoes next, I think. Then Grafton House for dress lengths and we will end at Dickens and Smith for stockings and trimmings. Bond Street, please, Henry,’ she ordered the coachman. ‘Seymour’s shoe shop.’
The shoe shop was more a boudoir than a shop. Its curtains were of silk, the patrons were seated upon divans arranged tastefully around the room and, despite the sunshine outside, the interior was lit by discreet lamps of fashionable design.
There was one other customer already seated, an assistant kneeling at her feet slipping a daring scarlet kid slipper onto her foot. She looked up and smiled when she saw who had entered.
‘My dear Lady Longminster. How well you look and what a pleasure it is to see you back in Society again.’
‘Lady Valentine.’ Marissa went to take the other woman’s proffered hand. ‘May I make known to you my companion, Miss Venables, and my cousin, Lady Nicole Southwood? Jane, Nicole: Lady Valentine.’
The older woman cast an openly appraising glance over Nicole. ‘So, you are the new Earl’s sister from the West Indies, are you not?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Nicci said, bobbing a curtsey but looking from under her lashes at the young man in uniform who was lounging negligently against the wall, apparently waiting for her ladyship.
Lady Valentine caught the look and waved him forward. ‘I had quite forgotten you were there, Andrew. Lady Longminster, ladies, may I make known to you Captain Andrew Cross of the Seventh Light Dragoons? Andrew: Lady Longminster, Lady Nicole Southwood, Miss Venables.’
The Captain swept the ladies a bow, his cropped dark hair gleaming in the subdued light. Nicci batted her eyelashes, clearly admiring his red jacket, gold braid and highly polished boots.
‘Sit here beside me, all of you,’ Lady Valentine suggested, patting the seat. ‘Are you here to buy shoes?’
‘For Lady Nicole only this morning,’ Marissa said coolly, nodding to the assistant who was hovering in the background. The young woman hurried forward and listened attentively as Marissa outlined the types of shoes they were looking for.
Lady Valentine extended one foot, drawing up the hem of her jade-green walking dress to expose an elegant ankle and turning her foot in one direction then the other. ‘Andrew, what do you think of these? Will they do?’
Jane drew in her breath sharply at the impropriety, and glared at Nicole, who was openly staring at the older woman.
‘Very nice, Susan,’ Captain Cross drawled, his eyes lingering on the blatantly exposed ankle.
At that moment the assistant returned with some walking shoes and Nicci was distracted. Unable to resist it, Marissa enquired sweetly, ‘And how is Sir Michael, and your three dear little boys?’
‘Oh, well enough, I suppose. I am sure Sir Michael would write if anything were amiss. They are still at home in Bedfordshire. Sir Michael finds Town such a bore: I always tell him not to disturb himself, coming up on my account.’
Marissa repressed a smile at Jane’s snort of disapproval and added maliciously, ‘But your dear sons, how could you bear to leave them?’
‘Oh, the country air is better for them,’ Lady Valentine responded with a toss of her head which sent her luxuriant dark curls bouncing. ‘Besides, there is very little for them to do in Town.’
Captain Cross had wandered off, scarcely bothering to conceal his boredom with this talk of domestic circumstances, but now he reappeared, a dashing half-boot in his hand. ‘Try this, Susan.’ He dropped to one knee and eased the scarlet slipper from her foot, his finger lingering at her ankle. Marissa became aware of Nicci’s dropped jaw and astounded expression and jabbed her briskly in the ribs.
‘Pay attention, Nicole. Does the shoe chafe your toes? The colour is perfect for your new walking dress, do you not agree, Miss Venables?’
But even Jane was distracted by the outrageous behaviour of Lady Valentine and her male companion. He was buttoning the half-boot with fingers which strayed frequently to the skin above.
‘Andrew, behave,’ Lady Valentine admonished indulgently, bending down to pat away his questing fingers. She gestured for the assistant. ‘Yes, I will take those too.’ While her purchases were being packed she asked, ‘Do you make a long stay in Town?’
‘We are here for the Season. Lady Nicole is making her come-out.’
‘I shall see you again, then.’ As she passed Lady Valentine touched Nicci’s cheek. ‘Charming, so fresh. Andrew, stop staring and come along. Good afternoon.’
It was as much as Marissa could do to keep Nicci quiet until they reached their carriage. ‘Well,’ the girl burst out. ‘Showing so much ankle – and letting Captain Cross put her shoe on like that! How very fast she was. The Captain is extremely handsome, but surely quite a bit younger than she is? And does her husband not mind?’
Jane twitched her pelisse straight and fixed Nicci with a gimlet eye. ‘That is what happens when a lady allows herself to behave in a fast and indecorous manner. Let that be a lesson to you, my girl.’
‘You mean I would attract handsome army captains and wear beautiful scarlet shoes?’ Nicci asked, wide-eyed.
‘Do not be pert, Nicole, this conversation is at an end. I think we have had quite a surfeit of shopping today and I am in need of a cup of tea. Marissa, shall we return to Grosvenor Square?’
Their energies returned the next day, however, and a prolonged expedition saw Nicci’s muslins, stockings, ribbons and laces purchased. An early start enabled them to scour the shops before the crowds grew too great and Marissa then indulged herself with a lengthy consultation at Madame Lavall’s. Jane displayed an unexpected interest in evening gowns herself and it was three very tired, but very excited, ladies who finally returned home for tea.
‘Is my brother in, Matthews?’ Nicci enquired as the under-butler held the door open for the laden footmen to stagger in under their burden of hat boxes, packages and parcels.
‘I believe he has just gone out, Lady Nicole. Shall I have tea sent to the Blue Salon?’
‘No, to my room, please. Marissa, Miss Venables – shall we take tea upstairs and unpack all our shopping? I have quite forgotten what I have bought, we visited so many shops.’
They spent a very agreeable and thoroughly frivolous hour re-examining every item, spreading the muslins out for Mary to see and thoroughly confusing the maid by disagreeing over which pattern in the Mirror of Fashion she should use for which fabric.
Jane had invested in a pair of long kid evening gloves with silver embroidery. Now she was having second thoughts. ‘Are they a little much, my dear?’ she asked Marissa anxiously. ‘I normally wear much plainer gloves, but these are such beautiful work I could not resist.’
‘They are very fine, Jane. I agree you have nothing suitable to wear with them, but just think of that lovely cream silk shot through with silver we saw in Debenham’s. You could have that made up in a simple, elegant style for evening and that would quite set off the gloves.’
‘I do declare, Marissa, you are too extravagant. To
buy gloves and then have a gown made to match is quite the wrong way round – I do not know what has come over me.’
Marissa jumped up. ‘The gauze scarf I brought with me would be perfect. Let me fetch it and we will try it out with the gloves.’
She darted out of the door, leaving it ajar, and hurried down the corridor. Behind her she heard Jane call, ‘Marissa, come back. This is really too frivolous for me!’
She spun round and called back, laughing, ‘Nonsense, Jane, it will be just the thing, you will see.’ She turned, stumbled and found herself colliding with a strong, warm male body. ‘Oh! Oh, Marcus – I thought you had gone out.’
‘Did you?’ He smiled down at her. ‘What have you been up to? Mischief, by the look of you. I like that gown.’ His words were warm, his gaze appreciative as he took in her dress of jonquil twill.
Marissa was seized with an overwhelming desire to press herself against him, kiss him with the passion they had shared on the beach.
Something of her desire must have reached him. He went very still, his blue gaze intent on her face as the laughter faded, leaving her staring up at him, wide-eyed.
‘No, not mischief. Shopping with my minx of a sister,’ Marcus said softly, the look in his eyes at odds with the light words. ‘I wish I could make you laugh like this.’ His fingertip traced the curve of her cheek, down the line of her jaw, then up to her lips. He let it rest there until Marissa let them part. Slowly, almost of its own volition, the tip of her tongue crept out to touch the pad of his fingertip.
A sharp intake of breath was his first response, then he swept his arms around her, pulled her to his body and bent to kiss her. Behind them the sound of footsteps on the staircase made them both freeze, then Marcus stooped, swept her up into his arms and shouldered open her bedchamber door.
She surrendered to his strong clasp, trying to believe that it would be different this time, that she could give herself to him completely. And then she could accept his offer of marriage… Even if he did not love her it would be enough if she could only give him everything.
