Without another word, the dressmaker turned and walked to the back of the store. Out of the corner of Cicely’s eye, she noticed her aunt and cousin had taken a sudden interest in a particularly ugly piece of fabric.
“Come!”
Madame Genevieve’s voice caused Cicely to jump. When Cicely found the woman staring impatiently at her, she hurried to do her bidding. She followed her back into the dressing area and waited until Madame shut the door.
“You will take off that offending piece of clothing.” Madame’s nostrils flared as if insulted by Cicely’s drab garments. Cicely hesitated. It had been years since she had undressed for anyone but her own modiste and her lady’s maid, Betsy. “You will let me disrobe you, Lady Cicely. I assure you, you have nothing I have not seen before. Suivez-moi. Tout de suite.
We have much to do.”
With that, she placed her hands on Cicely’s shoulders and turned her in a full circle. Within just moments, Cicely stood in nothing but her shift. Again, the other woman studied her. She cocked her head to the side.
“Why do you bind your breasts?”
The question took Cicely by surprise, though it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like she didn’t know that every morning she wrapped the linen around her bosom. But no one, not even Betsy, said a word of it to her. It was just…understood. Asked so bluntly though, Cicely had to work her brain around the question to answer it.
“My mother said I should, as did my modiste.”
“This is wrong. C’est dommage de cacher telle beauté. ”
Cicely frowned at that. She didn’t understand all the woman said but it was something about hiding things. A blush crept up her neck and warmed her face. While this modiste was at least pleasant, it only reinforced Cicely’s negative self-impressions. She’d never been comfortable with her form and discussing it with a woman she did not know wasn’t something she wanted to do. Noting the militant expression on the other woman’s face, Cicely realized that she would not let it go.
“My mother explained that I was disproportioned. I have done my best to cover the flaws.”
Genevieve settled her hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow.
“What you do here, this is not healthy. Things must breathe. Beauty must show.”
“I will not be mocked because of my figure. The ton has enough ammunition, I will not give them more. The fashion is not favorable to women with larger…attributes.”
With a string of muttered French phrases—which had to be naughty, but languages had never been her forte—Madame Genevieve turned on her heel and sashayed out of the room. “Who, I ask you, is the modiste?
Eh? Who knows fashion?”
A moment later, the door opened to reveal her aunt, who wore an expression of acute concern. Behind her stood Genevieve, her expression dark.
“You will talk to the young lady. I will never allow her to wear one of my creations while doing something unhealthy and stupid.”
She left them alone but Cicely could still here her muttering in French as she walked to the front of the store. Embarrassment drenched the silence. Victoria cleared her throat, stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her. She examined Cicely closely, concern wrinkling her brow.
“Genevieve said that you have been binding your breasts.”
Cicely said nothing. The bindings were obvious standing exposed as she was. Thank heavens her cousin had not come in.
“How long have you been doing this?”
Self-consciously, Cicely crossed her arms over the offending body part—or parts, she wasn’t quite sure of the proper English—and broke eye contact. This was the most discussion she’d ever had about her bosom, save that first horrendous one with her mother.
“Since about the age of four and ten.” The tone of her voice was weak, and she hated that. At least it had not broken. Still, she resented that she once again sounded like that fourteen-year-old girl who didn’t understand the changes in her body. She swallowed past the hate and anger of having lived with confusion and shame, for having a mother who made her feel dirty for something she knew now was natural.
Victoria moved closer, gently taking Cicely’s hands and pulling them from her body. Chancing a hesitant and hooded glance at her aunt, she recognized the look on her face as one of understanding. At least it wasn’t pity because that she would not be able to handle. Understanding was hard enough.
“Tell me, why did you do this to yourself? I agree with Madame, this is not healthy.”
She swallowed. Truth. “My mother said that I was an oddity.”
The sigh that escaped her aunt’s lips sounded resigned. “Let’s sit over here and discuss this.”
Cicely followed her to the settee and settled rigidly next to her aunt.
“No matter what you say, I know that fashions these days are not good for a figure like mine.”
Her aunt’s laugh took her by surprise. “Fashion is a fickle, fleeting thing. However, darling, being shaped as I suspect you are is always in fashion, at least with men.” When Cicely didn’t join in, Victoria sighed again. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but your mother was not well.”
“Up until the last, she was normal.”
“I knew your mother before she married your father. We were of the same age, but never really took to each other. But, darling, you have to understand, your mother was always a vindictive harpy. Even before.”
For a moment or two, Cicely could not speak. Her aunt was known for her diplomatic nature.
Victoria took one look at Cicely’s expression and chuckled. “I cannot lie about your mother, not in this case. She was always spiteful and mean-spirited. She could not accept that another woman might be prettier or smarter. The tales of her come-out year would surely curl your toes. Not with delight, but with horror. I am not saying this to upset you, and I am not lying. Your mother had reason to make you feel ashamed of your figure. She had reached what society would claim to be her peak, and her daughter was developing into a beautiful young woman.
“That alone was enough to drive your mother over the edge. Add in your father’s taste for cards, always searching for the next good hand to make it through to the next quarter allowances… Your mother was not a happy woman. Competing with you would have been too much. She had to take that element out of it. Or some of it.”
“I understand what you are trying to do, Aunt. I appreciate it.” When Victoria seemed ready to protest, Cicely stopped her by squeezing the older woman’s hand in a sign of affection. “No, I do not want false comments about my appearance. While I know you are more than likely correct about my mother, I have my own mirrors. Every morning as I dress I see in great detail just what and where I lack.”
Narrowing her eyes before she stood, Victoria pulled Cicely off the settee. Victoria positioned Cicely in front of her, looked over Cicely’s shoulder and caught her gaze in the mirror.
“Tell me what you see.”
“A plain woman of advancing age. I see a spinster nearing the shelf.”
Victoria tsked. “Do you know what I see? I see a young woman with a quick mind.”
Cicely snorted. “Yes, and that is all the rage amongst men. They love a woman smarter than they are.”
“Oh, Cicely, all women are smarter than men.” Victoria shook her head. “But there is more, much more to you. While you have physical beauty, I know you don’t want to hear about it. Still, it is what I and many others see. More than that, I see a woman with hidden beauty. You only need to know how to show it to the world.”
Cicely opened her mouth to argue, but Victoria tightened her hold on Cicely’s arms.
“Allow Genevieve to do her work. What can it hurt? You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
That struck too close to the heart of the matter. Her reputation was already tattered with the rumors of her mother’s behavior and her father’s gambling. Douglas thought her wanton. Perhaps she was. Her season would soon be over. She would go back to
her books and her quiet life when the season closed. What would it hurt? This was her chance.
“Okay.”
Victoria beamed at her, released her and pulled Cicely into her arms.
The tenderness of the embrace, the true and unconditional love that she had never experienced before living with Victoria, caused a lump to form in her throat. Warmth filled her soul, her heart nearly bursting with happiness. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she slid her arms around her aunt and returned the hug.
When she pulled away, Cicely noticed Victoria looked a little teary-eyed herself. Tugging out a linen handkerchief, she dabbed her eyes and offered Cicely a shining smile.
“Trust me, Cicely, this will work out for the best.”
Cicely smiled but said nothing. If her aunt knew her purpose in all of this, she would put a halt to it. Cicely couldn’t take Victoria’s disappointment if she should find out her motives. Instead, she nodded and patiently awaited Madame Genevieve’s return.
Douglas offered a small smile and inclination of his head as he slid past another matchmaking mama, thinking he’d been dashed stupid for showing up at this ball. He hated the inanity of the ton and their amusements, had from the moment he made his debut into society years earlier. Already in possession of his full title, he had learned early on what that meant in society. The ruthless social climbers wanted his title—not to mention the deep coffers the dukedom held. If his stark upbringing had not prepared him for being considered a stud that could be bought and sold like any horse at Tattersall’s, his first year in society would have wiped any misconceptions away.
Shaking off his morbid thoughts, he took a glittering cut-crystal flute of champagne from a passing footman and wandered around the edges of the large dance floor. He tried his best to appear inconspicuous as he looked for the object of his hunt. She had yet to make an appearance at this evening’s function but he had heard she would be in attendance. He hoped she would hurry, he had already had to fend off Lady Tremount, several mamas and two recent widows. The sooner he talked to Cicely, the better.
The thought that he’d braved one more ball just to find his quarry absent left a cold ball of irritation in his stomach. He had decided to wait only thirty minutes more when he heard her name announced. He threaded his way through the crush of people to get a better view of the entrance. The moment Douglas saw her, the tension he did not even realize had gathered in his belly released, and a flood of heat wound through his blood. Flanked by her aunt and cousin, Cicely descended the staircase.
Again, he was struck anew by how he had missed certain things about her over the years. He had mistakenly allowed her to be placed into the category of family—making her off limits.
He sighed. No, he had never seen her exactly that way, but he had never noticed her beauty before. It was quiet, not so overwhelming as say Lady Tremount’s looks. It also did not fit into the perfect rosebud appearance of Lady Anna. Instead, Cicely’s darker coloring seemed to make her appear drab, especially in that horrid pale pink gown. But a quiet shimmer of beauty lurked beneath the surface. The right man would show her just how to blossom.
Ever muscle in his body went rigid. The thought that another man, some nameless, faceless bastard, would be the one to tap into her beauty, her pureness, her love, had a red tide of anger coursing through him.
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
He turned and noticed Lady Catherine Hendridge and her cousin, Lady Diana standing to his left. Smiling at Lady Catherine, he kept an eye on Lady Cicely and her relations as they made their way through the crowd.
“Lady Catherine. Lady Diana.” He took first Catherine’s hand, bending over it, kissing the air just above it. He gave the same treatment to Lady Diana’s. “How wonderful to see both of you here this evening.
How are you faring?”
Catherine’s eyes laughed up at him. Slim, tall and light, the woman had been considered the catch on her first season out. Catherine and he shared a unique friendship. It was one spawned out of a love of the absurd and had continued through her widowhood. Her quick wit and unwillingness to remarry made her the perfect companion for Douglas.
Dressed in celestial blue, her favorite color, she drew much attention from the bounders and rakes of the ton. Both those of the lecherous and the longing. Her dour cousin, some twenty years her senior and one of the unhappiest creatures to grace the earth, Lady Diana, frowned at him.
She, too, was dressed in the hideous pastels of the season. If she didn’t already look like a frigid icicle, the light blue dress solidified the image.
“It seems we are in for another crush,” Catherine said. “My dance card is already full.”
“As it always is.” He caught a look at Lady Cicely out of the corner of his eye. “If you ladies will excuse me, I see my cousin Colleen’s family making their way through the throng of people. I must say my hellos.”
After taking his leave, he made his way through the throng of revelers to Cicely with a determined frown. He knew he looked irritated, due to the fact that he was, but he didn’t give a damn. He had dreamt of that teasing voice, the way she had smiled up at him, and it was driving him to distraction thinking another man would be offered the boon.
He stopped in mid-step, just to have the rather large Baron Wickam run squarely into his back. Casting the man a nasty look, to have one thrown right back at him, Douglas continued on his way.
He was not confronting her because he was worried someone would take his place. He comforted himself with that knowledge. What concerned him more was the threat to her reputation.
When he finally caught up with the three ladies, the look Cicely gave him was not at all welcoming. In fact, there was a bit of a militant glare in her eyes.
“Ladies.” He bowed over Lady Victoria’s then Anna’s hand, waiting to approach Cicely last. Without a thought, he brushed his lips over her glove, his mind spinning from the warmth and scent of lavender. When he rose, he noticed the most delicious blush creeping into her cheeks.
Keeping his gaze on her face, he asked, “Lady Victoria, I wondered if I could request a turn about the room with Lady Cicely.”
When she didn’t respond, he looked at the older woman to find her watching him with a knowing air. “If Cicely is agreeable.”
He turned back to Cicely who nodded although he knew she wasn’t particularly happy with the situation. Offering her an arm, he waited for her to place her hand on his sleeve, his heart doing a little kick when she accepted.
“Lady Cicely, I do believe that you have a bit of explaining to do.”
She smiled at an acquaintance, an older earl Douglas knew was one of the regulars at The Historical Society. He waited, not so patiently, for her to finish her greetings.
“I have no notion what you are talking about,” she said, keeping her voice just loud enough for him to hear.
He gritted his teeth. “I think you do and I wanted to warn you before you ruin your reputation. I have told no one of our conversation, but other men would not be so discreet.”
She glanced around her surreptitiously. “You have fulfilled your duty, Your Grace.” Letting go of his arm, she curtsied. “If you will excuse me, I need to catch up with Lady Middleton about The Historical Society meeting this week.”
He looked over her head toward the corner where many of the dowagers rested. When she rose, he met her gaze. “If you promise me to be careful and make no requests to other gentlemen tonight.”
She smiled. “I assure you that I will not approach anyone this evening. I have since decided against my first plan.” The utter sincerity in her eyes had him nodding.
Turning, she walked to the older women and his gaze drew down her form to her rear end. He was struck again by the ferocity of his need to discover what she hid under those ghastly dresses. He felt another pulse of arousal. He ignored it and thinking he had done his duty, decided to find Lady Catherine. Perhaps her humor could distract him from his current unsettling line of thou
ght.
The heat of the ballroom had Cicely’s head throbbing. Her breath tangled in her throat and a cold chill slithered into her stomach. She hated the occasional fear she experienced in large crowds. Every now and then, the press of people caused the dammed clawing terror to rise. The evening’s party was a huge success, the number of guests overwhelming.
They bumped and touched, not from rudeness, but rather lack of room.
She could not step but a foot ahead without jostling someone. She tried to contain her discomfort, but that compiled with the misery of seeing Douglas pursuing yet another woman was too much. She’d witnessed it for years, but for some reason this time, after his refusal, it was painful to watch.
Needing a respite, she excused herself from Anna’s group of admirers.
As she pretended to drift toward the ladies’ retiring room, she wandered down the hall a bit further. A sigh of relief escaped when she found the library free.
Closing the door behind her, she wandered around the darkened room, careful of the furniture. When she located the Chesterfield, she settled at one end, kicked off her slippers and closed her eyes. The fright that had threatened to embarrass her was fading. She would never understand the nature of it. It didn’t happen in small confined places, or in dark rooms like her present sanctuary.
She took deep breaths, her body slowly relaxing and her fear melting away. Only to have it rush forward again when she heard the door click.
Her eyes flew open and she turned to see who was at the door. She could only see the outline of a man against the brightness of the lighted hallway. Hoping that he could not see her, she held herself perfectly still, barely breathing. All hope was lost as she listened to his footsteps draw near. But it was his voice that caused alarm to race through her.
“I see you made it here before me, minx.”
Chapter Five
In which our hero makes a most thrilling mistake.
Cicely’s heart stuttered at the deep sound of Douglas’ voice.
Oh, no. No. No. No.
Once Upon an Accident 02 - Lessons in Seduction Page 5
