Faith nodded, reluctantly. If she were really to net herself a werewolf husband, she supposed she ought to look the part, at least some of the time.
Minnie donned her most placating manner. “There, you see, miss? It won’t be so bad.” Minnie would prefer her mistress dress more to the height of fashion and less for her own comfort and taste. But then, Minnie was skilled with a needle and liked to show off. When Faith had been thrown over by her family, Minnie had suffered nearly as badly for lack of attractive dresses handed down and ways to display her art. She’d once earned a pretty penny taking seamstress work on the side. When Faith fell from grace, so did a quarter of Minnie’s earnings.
Teddy began looking through the few dresses Faith had packed, tutting away. “Pardon me for saying so, my dear, but these will not do! The sleeves and skirts are too narrow, especially on the ball gowns. So confining! No wonder you dislike them so. You might trade on a modest character, but do you want to come off as particularly pious or prudish? I shouldn’t say it, but I must – you will look mature in these walking dresses.” Teddy paused, considering. “Which could help to attract werewolves, but your ball gowns must be lighter in color. You are not that old, Faith! Why did your family send you with such dark fabrics, so ill-suited to your complexion? Your mother wishes you to succeed here, does she not?”
Faith said, simply, “My mother wishes me to marry a werewolf and never go back to Boston. Is that your definition of success?”
Teddy was suddenly sharper and less carefree. “Is it yours?”
“I’m not convinced of the efficaciousness of werewolves, but I’ll admit that never returning to Boston has its appeal.”
Teddy looked sad. “You do not enjoy the company of your close family?”
“I’ve caused them problems with my willfulness.” That is one way of putting it.
Teddy shook her head and made a mew noise of sympathy. “Well, my mother is very accepting of the newer ideals of womanhood. I am even allowed to wear split skirts for riding the bicycle, although she has not yet come around to my giving over side saddle. You will not find us so restrictive in this household.”
Faith was relieved. She dared not tell Teddy the real reason for her exile. It was too great a sin for any to ignore. Even Teddy. No one could be that generous of spirit. Faith could only hope that her shame wouldn’t cross the Atlantic and taint these sweet people by association. Still, it was nice to know she would not be monitored and punished and reprimanded for acting in a manner that came naturally.
She confessed some smaller truths instead. “I don’t know why I’m so independently minded. My sisters all boiled to the correct temperature. Four of them in respectable marriages, and me with my rocks and my split skirts and my refusal to marry the candidates presented. Maybe Mother thinks a werewolf could better control me. Then I’d stop embarrassing my family.” Any more than I already have.
Teddy was shocked. “I could hardly countenance it, you are such a charming creature. Embarrass them indeed. Preposterous!”
So I, too, thought, once. Faith dipped her head. “So, I need some new dresses. Now, is my jewelry good enough? I haven’t much. Mother doesn’t believe unmarried girls should sparkle.”
Teddy nodded. “It’s the same here. Pearls, of course, but only a single strand. A velvet ribbon about the neck is very popular right now. Thin enough not to hide bite marks, of course. Unmarried girls don’t call on vampires and must prove it.”
They moved on to other accessories.
As she sorted through scarves and shawls, Teddy probed, not rudely, but simply in an effort to better understand Faith’s position and character. “I thought Americans hated werewolves. We were always told your branch of the family was not politically allied with ours in the matter of supernatural acceptance. That was one of the reasons they emigrated.”
“You’re not wrong. The gloves will pass muster?”
Teddy examined Faith’s glove box. “Pass muster? Oh, you mean prove acceptable? Yes, they should be sufficient. No one wears them only once anymore. Hats next?”
Minnie pulled out Faith’s hatboxes and opened each with a flourish.
Teddy was not pleased. “Oh, these will not do at all. How many seasons old are they? They look as if they might have been worn by your mother at her coming out. No offense, my dear.”
Faith was not upset. She knew her hats were awful. “I know what you mean.”
Teddy’s shopping list was getting longer and longer. Faith worried over money. Her parents had given her very little and only enough for one slim season. She was embarrassed to bring it up but felt she must curb her new friend’s enthusiasm.
“Teddy, dear, I’m not able to fund a whole new wardrobe.”
Teddy’s face fell. “Oh, you poor darling, they do not care much about you, do they?”
Faith thought of her parents in their big house. Her mother’s diamonds. Her father’s pocket watches. Her sisters’ debuts had been things of beauty. As indeed had hers. All new dresses, fans, and gloves (the same ones she had with her now). But that was years ago. Faith’s coming to London was an act of desperation, not celebration.
“My parents have the ability but not the will.” Faith kept her tone carefully neutral.
Teddy flushed in anger. Her pretty face showed all she felt without guile. “And all because you would not marry where they wished? This thing with the werewolves, they consider it a punishment, don’t they?”
Faith nodded.
Teddy tilted her head. “Which is difficult for me to comprehend, as here in London it is considered a very good match, especially for a widow. Was there something particular that caused them to insist on a supernatural approach?”
“Yes, but please don’t ask. Maybe someday I’ll tell you, but it’s not easy for me.”
Teddy touched Faith’s hand. “Say nothing further, dearest cousin. I will get it out of you eventually, you know I shall. But I understand well that not everyone can chatter so ceaselessly as I.” She grinned. “It’s a gift. Although Daddy calls it the family curse. He is one of those not blessed with the capacity for easy conversation.”
Faith said, on a hush, because she did not want to seem critical of her host, “I don’t think I heard him string six words together during all of breakfast.”
Teddy giggled. “I know, isn’t he awful? Charles is exactly like him. We’re so lucky to have Cyril and Colin as escorts this season. They’re awful, of course, but fun about it. It’s humiliating to always appear with one’s brothers, but that won’t harm your chances. Sadly, they don’t run with the werewolves, being neither military nor political, but Mums will do her best for you. And Papa has some connections.” She barely paused for breath, helping Minnie close up the hatboxes. “Now, given the state of your hats, I think we ought to go hat shopping first. You’ll need something for the park tomorrow. Hat shopping should help with the werewolf problem as well. We shall donate these shabby specimens to the deserving poor. Although perhaps, they are more worthy of the undeserving.”
Minnie gasped but Faith laughed.
With which declaration, Teddy selected gloves and the least offensive hat for Faith to wear out that evening, and dragged her down to the sitting room, leaving poor Minnie to clean up the chaos that had resulted.
Never in her life had Faith visited such a glorious hat shop. Really, it put all her shopping in general, prior to this exact moment, to shame.
Chapeau de Poupe was large, but not so large as to be off-putting. The hats were carefully curated and suspended via chains and ribbons from the ceiling. They swayed like wheat in the fields as patrons drifted through them. They were hung on the walls as well. There were attractive small displays scattered throughout, with gloves and fans, hair muffs and glassicals, and all manner of other necessities arranged atop.
It was after dark by the time they arrived (Mrs Iftercast taking nearly four hours to dress), and yet the hat shop was crowded, catering to ladi
es and their daughters preparing for the season. Or maybe their clientele was supernatural. Faith trembled only slightly at the thought. She was getting better at entertaining the possibility of supernatural ravishment. Or whatever it was they did that gave them such titillating reputations.
There was a vast hat selection. Faith was utterly overwhelmed by options. Always, before, her mother had chosen what was respectable and appropriate. For Faith to forage for herself was both a luxury and a burden. She would’ve looked to Teddy for help, except that her new friend was busy about her own desires. Besides, they clearly did not share a taste in hats. Teddy was attracted to extravagant, risky ventures that suited her round, rosy face and dark, defined features, but that would do nothing for Faith’s more insipid coloring.
Mrs Iftercast seemed similarly minded to let Faith wander on her own, undisturbed. Or it was possible she had forgotten about her. Mrs Iftercast was overcome by enthusiastic adoration for a recent shipment of Italian straw. Faith ended up adrift in the sea of hats, helplessly drowning, as they all swayed around her at once.
Fortunately, she was rescued.
A young man approached. He was beautiful rather than handsome, with a smooth fairy quality to him that Faith would have guessed made him a dance instructor or an artist of some note.
“You look lost, miss. May I offer my assistance as navigator?”
“Sailing the sea of hats?”
“Indeed. I am Mr Rabiffano.” He gave a tiny bow. “At your service.”
He was an impossibly stylish gentleman – not a hair out of place. In addition to being impeccably well groomed, he wore a suit that was tailored perfectly to his lithe body. He had a milk-white complexion that would be the envy of young ladies, and pleasing contrasting dark brown hair and sympathetic blue eyes.
Faith thought at first he was brother or companion to one of the other shoppers, but as he showed her around, his consummate familiarity with the stock indicated he actually worked there. Surely, not merely a shop boy? Maybe the proprietor himself? Whatever the case, Faith was honored by his attention.
His taste was exquisite. He guided her towards small perches (It would be a shame to cover those golden tresses, he said). Faith settled on a beautiful straw confection with hawk feathers out the back and an apple-green velvet bow at the front. Mr Rabiffano (Call me Biffy, do, everyone does) said the color was perfection against her skin. He bypassed the season’s more exaggerated offerings, all bows and ruffles and lace (Too fussy for such a pretty face as yours) and suggested simpler hats instead. He would set one upon her hair, sink into a trance-like reverie, and then shake his head without allowing her near a mirror. Finally, he stood and simply considered her (without a hat) thoughtfully.
“I wonder,” he said.
Faith tilted her bare head at him. “Yes, sir?”
“You are, I think, an American?”
“What gave it away?” Faith joked, well aware that her accent left no one in any doubt.
“I wonder if I might persuade you to be rather daring.”
“I have a feeling,” said Faith without rancor, “that you might persuade me of pretty much anything, Mr Rabiffano.”
“Biffy, please.”
“Should I confess that I’m in possession of several bicycle ensembles and that I enjoy wearing split skirts and wide trousers on the regular?”
Biffy gleamed. “You are not afraid of risk! Most excellent.” His blue eyes twinkling with glee, he led her towards a mirror near the back and seated her before it. “Wait here. I shall return in a moment.”
Faith waited.
Teddy drifted over, dimples in evidence, wearing a monstrous orange peaked number with brown ribbon and yellow flowers all up one side. Faith thought it would look horrible on her, but Teddy carried it off, and it gave her some height. It would look better with that velvet dress from yesterday than the turban she had been wearing. Feeling they were on intimate enough terms for fashion honesty, Faith said as much. Teddy agreed.
“And how are you doing, cousin? I see his lordship has taken you in hand. You are lucky.”
Faith quavered, “His lordship? You mean Biffy?”
Teddy nodded. “He is wonderful, isn’t he?”
“Quite,” said Faith, imitating her cousin’s posh accent.
“Taken, though, or so the rumors go.”
Faith was not crushed by this information. She had felt the young gentleman was being kind to her, but no more than kind. He was clearly not romantically intrigued. Besides, the man was prettier than she was.
“He’s good with hats, then?”
Teddy pursed her lips. “The best. Only, I don’t know what he is bringing to you now…” She trailed off.
Biffy returned, looking a little shifty, hands (and hat) tucked carefully behind his back.
He nodded to Teddy. “Miss Iftercast, is it not?”
“You remember, my lord!”
“I never forget a pretty face.”
Teddy dimpled at him. “Or one who takes such risks as I do with hats? So you said. Do you see this one I have on?” She moved her head around coquettishly.
“It suits you admirably.”
Teddy glowed with this approbation from the master. He turned to exchange glances with Faith in the mirror.
“Ready to be daring, Miss Wigglesworth?”
“I am strong and able.” Faith smiled up at him.
“Close your eyes.”
She felt the light weight of a hat upon her head.
“Open them.”
She saw his grin in the mirror first; it was a wondrous thing, his approval warm and undemanding. Almost parental, which felt odd as he looked younger than she was. Then her eyes were drawn to the boater atop her head – a gentleman’s boater. One of those flat, wide-brimmed straw numbers sported by young men rowing around a lake or on a picnic or watching cricket.
The entire hat shop fell silent.
Biffy bent to whisper in her ear. “They are being worn in Paris by young ladies of firm temperament. Forget, for a moment, its original intent and notice how well it suits your face? Perhaps with a blue ribbon, to match your eyes?”
Faith understood precisely his meaning. Against the background of all the frills and foibles of the other hats, the very simplicity of this one was glorious. The plain straw and wide brim suited her hair and face shape and made her eyes look huge. She liked the severity of it, the careful blankness. It was, as he had intimated, strangely daring.
“I love it,” Faith pronounced, firmly. “It will go so well with my bicycle ensembles.”
“Beautifully,” agreed Biffy.
Faith caught his mischievousness. “Have you any other gentleman’s hats that might suit a lady?”
“That’s the spirit!” Biffy rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Let me ascertain. Of course, I am concerned by the size, but with hairstyles these days tending towards the poufy, and with a hat pin, I do not think it will be too much of an issue.”
Teddy was gaping at her. “Oh, Faith, how wonderful. He intends to turn you into an original! This is most exciting.”
Some twenty minutes later saw Faith at the counter with her apple-green perch and three additional hats, all originally intended for gentlemen. She had the lovely plain boater, a derby in pearl grey, and a riding hat of black silk. These last she would leave with Biffy, who said he would trim them slightly to make them a touch more feminine. Not too much, of course.
Faith was, however, still wearing the boater as she paid. She thought it looked remarkably well on her, and never before had she had such affection for a hat. She did not want to take it off until she must.
A familiar voice disturbed her transaction.
She whirled to find Major Channing standing behind her, a blank expression on his handsome face.
“Major Channing, what are you doing in a lady’s hat shop?” Faith demanded before she could stop herself.
“Miss Lazuli? What
are you doing in a gentleman’s hat?” His cool blue eyes swept critically over her new acquisition.
It did not worry Faith; he was the type to be critical. If her new hat truly did offend, he would say something more pointed. “Mr Rabiffano will be trimming it for me. He wants me to start a new trend.”
“He would.”
A small silence ensued.
Finally, Faith broke it. “Now is the point where you explain your presence here, sir.”
“I don’t have to explain. We own the bally place.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“My pack owns this hat shop.”
“You’re telling me werewolves are the primary investors in a lady’s hat concern? Don’t you find this weird?”
“You have met my Alpha. I should think that explained everything.”
Biffy wandered up at that juncture. “Miss Wigglesworth, you’re acquainted with Major Channing? How droll.”
“Only in passing. He insulted my rocks.”
Biffy raised both eyebrows and gave her figure a slightly scandalous once-over. “Did he indeed? That doesn’t sound like Major Channing at all.”
Faith giggled and took off the boater, handing it back to him. “This is charming. I can’t wait to see it when you’re done with it.”
Channing watched their friendly exchange with narrowed eyes. “So, you are properly called Miss Wigglesworth, are you? I think I prefer Lazuli.”
Biffy hid a smile. “Major Channing, how unlike you to have an opinion. Why Lazuli?”
“Have you noticed the color of her eyes?” The man positively grumbled.
Biffy’s eyebrows went up. “Indeed I have. What is interesting is that apparently, so have you.”
Channing seemed to recollect himself. He straightened his spine. “Miss Wigglesworth, allow me to present you to Mr Rabiffano—”
How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship Novella Book 1) Page 4
