by Laura Landon
The six of them chatted for a few minutes while behind them the orchestra swelled to finish the current number.
“I believe the next set is about to begin,” Lord Darworth said. “Would you honor me with this dance, Lady Mary?”
“I—” Mary gave Willow a frantic look.
“Go on, Mary,” Willow said.
“Would you do me the honor of this dance, Lady Jane?” Lord Hedley asked, and Willow nodded her approval. She knew getting her alone had been Kendrick’s plan all along and there was nothing Willow could do about it. He’d executed his plan brilliantly.
Jane and Mary accompanied Lords Darworth and Hedley into the ballroom, leaving Willow on the terrace with Lord Kendrick.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I prefer we don’t join the dancing. Perhaps you’d simply agree to walk with me through the garden?”
“Of course,” Willow said. She took Lord Kendrick’s arm and accompanied him down the three steps that led from the terrace and onto a cobbled path that wound through the garden.
“I don’t know if you are aware that my father has visited with your father.”
Willow wasn’t sure if Lord Kendrick expected an answer. She decided not to say anything and chose to continue down the path in silence.
“The purpose of Father’s visit was to inquire if your father had any objection to a courtship between us.”
The muscles in Willow’s body tensed, but she forced her legs to continue walking. “And what was my father’s answer?”
“He indicated he had no objection. That is, if you had none.”
“I see.” Blood rushed to Willow’s head. Her heart raced in her chest, and she suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.
Lord Kendrick stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face her. He gathered her hands in his and held them. “Have you any objection, my lady?”
Willow opened her mouth to answer but she couldn’t find the words. “I…”
“I know I’ve taken you quite by surprise—”
“No,” Willow interrupted on a stutter. “It’s not that. It’s just that…” She pulled her hands from his and took a step away from him. “It’s just that I don’t know what to say.” She turned to face him. They were separated by several feet and that gave Willow a little more courage. “You see, I don’t know you very well. And you don’t know me,” she added. “I mean… I mean, we don’t know each other enough to know if we’ll get along.”
Lord Kendrick smiled and Willow realized that he was indeed a very handsome man.
His smile widened to a grin. “I believe that is the purpose of a courtship, my lady. To give the two parties the opportunity to find out if they will suit.”
“Yes,” Willow sighed. “I suppose it is.”
“Then do you have any objection to my paying you court?”
Willow thought for a moment. It wasn’t that she objected to Lord Kendrick’s suit, it’s just that she couldn’t say she felt anything for him. He was pleasant, and the few times he’d asked her to dance had been enjoyable. But she didn’t feel anything special when she was with him, although perhaps she didn’t know him well enough to feel anything for him…yet.
Lord Kendrick looked at her with a tense expression on his face and Willow realized she hadn’t answered him. “No, Lord Kendrick,” she said struggling to make her voice sound confident. “I have no objection to our keeping company.”
He breathed an audible sigh, then smiled broadly. “You have made me a very happy man, Lady Willow.”
Willow looked at him and saw the sincerity in his expression. She was overwhelmed by a sense of guilt. It was obvious that Quinton Marvell, Marquess of Kendrick, had much deeper feelings for her than she did for him. Or perhaps he didn’t, but was merely grateful to be in the running for her dowry.
She couldn’t let him think that she harbored any feelings for him. Although she feared she might hurt his feelings, she knew she had to be completely honest with him.
“I feel I need to warn you that it’s possible nothing permanent will develop from our friendship. I have to be utterly honest with you. My agreement to your courtship comes with no promise of anything more serious or…lasting.”
Lord Kendrick looped Willow’s arm through his as they continued to walk along the garden path. “Understood, my lady. We will enjoy our time together and see what develops. Far be it from me to pressure you into becoming my duchess.”
He winked and Willow couldn’t help but smile. Lord Kendrick was a pleasant individual. She only hoped she didn’t disappoint him too much if she found they didn’t suit.
. . . .
Two months quickly passed once she’d given Lord Kendrick permission to court her. Since that night, he’d been the perfect suitor. He’d attended the same functions as she. He’d danced two sets with her but no more. And he’d been most attentive to her every need.
Even though they’d both done everything possible to avoid any rumors and speculation, it hadn’t stopped the whispered comments that surrounded them. How could it when they’d been seen together so often?
He’d accompanied Willow and her mother and father to the opera and taken her for drives through Hyde Park at the five o’clock hour, when much of society would see them. And he was always a good conversationalist as well as pleasant company.
Speculation abounded, and even though Willow had expressly told Lord Kendrick that she could make no promises concerning a future with him, things were moving in that direction faster than she could keep up with them.
A sense of panic consumed her when she realized how little control she had over her future. She wasn’t sure if she wanted her life to go down this path, yet what choice did she have? She had her brothers to consider. She often wished she could jump off of the path her life had taken, and let the journey continue without her. But that wasn’t an option, and it wasn’t that she loved someone else. Even though she’d been pursued by several young men, none of them had made her heart race.
She didn’t love Lord Kendrick, and she doubted that he loved her, but that didn’t seem to matter to anyone. The Duke of Somerset was more than eager to let everyone in Society believe a betrothal was imminent. Even her parents seemed pleased with the prospect of having Lord Kendrick as a son-in-law.
They liked him. Her mother thought they made a handsome couple and her father was certain that in time they would mesh together quite well. And, of course, there were the estates that would pass to Joe and Phin when they married. And her dowry that would get the Duke of Somerset out of his financial straits.
That her dowry was more important than she was should make Willow angry. It always had until she’d met Lord Kendrick. To her surprise, she easily accepted that Lord Kendrick was courting her for her money. That he had no more choice in who he would marry than she did. And that confused Willow.
Perhaps she did care more for Lord Kendrick than she wanted to admit. Or perhaps his openness about why he needed her dowry, and what improvements he would make when he controlled her wealth caused her to realize the good that would come from the money. Whatever it was confused her to the point where she only wanted to escape from everything that troubled her.
Whenever she was consumed with such helplessness, there was only one place that could calm her. And she was on her way there now.
Her carriage rumbled over the cobbled streets of London, then stopped. As soon as her driver opened the door, Willow stepped out of the carriage and looked up to read the familiar scrolled writing on the window before her. As always, site of it caused her to breathe a sigh of relief.
Madame Boulereau’s ~~ Dressmaker par excellence
Willow entered the dressmaker’s shop and stopped to take in a deep breath. There wasn’t a smell that caused her heart to beat with excitement like the smells and sounds of new satin gowns in the making. And there wasn’t a better assortment and selection of fabrics than those Madame Boulereau kept in her shop.
Willow cast a glance around the
establishment and smiled in anticipation of the hidden treasures she was about to discover. She flung open the shutters of her disciplined heart and prepared herself to become completely lost.
Chapter 3
Blake turned to see who’d entered Madame Boulereau’s shop when the bell above the door sounded. Out of necessity, he reached for the back of a chair as his heart shifted in his chest. Standing near the door was a young woman of extraordinary beauty.
Completely foreign emotions overwhelmed him as he studied the angelic figure who hadn’t yet noticed him. Golden hues twined through her hair like strands of gold, swept up in a loose style that was only partially hidden beneath her fashionable bonnet. And the midnight blue of her eyes was a perfect match for the deep azure sky after a late afternoon rainstorm. Even her heart-shaped face was pure perfection. Nothing could be more enticing than the expression on her face or the rapture in her eyes as she gazed around Madame Boulereau’s tidy shop.
If only Blake were seeing this vision of loveliness for the first time. If only he didn’t know who she was, or how she was connected to the man he detested above all other men. But he’d seen her before. He knew that she was destined to become his half-brother’s intended—the future Duchess of Kendrick.
Rumors of her pending betrothal to the Duke of Somerset’s heir had been widely circulated for months now. And if there was anything Blake kept up on, it was every whisper of news about the Duke of Somerset or his son, the Marquess of Kendrick. So, Blake had made it his business to find out as much as he could about Lady Willow Gilchrist. And although she could never have heard of him, Blake knew everything about her. Or at least he thought he did.
“Lady Willow,” Madame Boulereau said, leaving Blake and rushing to where Lady Willow Gilchrist stood. “What a pleasant surprise. Have you come simply to look, or is there something in particular you wish to see?”
“Perhaps both,” the lady said with a smile that lit her face.
Blake’s heart shifted a second time. He’d thought her beautiful before, when he’d seen her from a distance, but seen up close her smile transformed her face from beautiful to exquisite. Suddenly, Blake found it a struggle to keep his thoughts coherent.
“Ah, then allow me to show you our newest fabrics.” Madame Boulereau led the way into her shop, but before she turned to go down one of the aisles, she brought Lady Willow to where Blake stood. “Lady Willow, allow me to present Mr. Blake Edison. Blake, Lady Willow Gilchrist.”
Blake executed a polite bow. “Lady Willow. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Mr. Edison,” she answered in a most innocently seductive voice. A thousand nerve endings sent shards of awareness through his body.
“Not the Edison of Edison Imports?”
“One and the same, my lady.” Blake couldn’t take his gaze away from her. He didn’t want to miss even one second of the time he’d been given in which he might absorb her beauty.
“Then may I compliment you on the variety and quality of fabrics you make available to those of us who have a passion for fine cloth.”
“You are a connoisseur of the fabrics in Madame Boulereau’s establishment?”
“More than a connoisseur, Mr. Edison. I fear Madame Boulereau will confuse me with one of her staff if I spend any more time in her shop.” She turned her gaze to Madame Boulereau and smiled more brightly.
“There is nothing I’d enjoy more than to have you under my roof every waking hour of each and every day, my lady,” Georgette Boulereau said. She turned to Blake. “Lady Willow has shown that she not only loves the many fabrics you provide, but that she has an eye for the perfect design that meshes the fabric and color to create the ideal gown.”
“I am impressed,” Blake said. “That’s high praise indeed, coming from Madame Boulereau.”
“Marrying fabrics to color and design is a passion of mine,” Lady Willow said.
“Truly?” Blake asked, struggling to keep from being impressed with the lady. He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want to discover that she possessed talents and passions similar to his. He didn’t want there to be anything in common between them. He didn’t want to like and admire her. But he already did.
At that moment the bell above the door sounded and a mother and two daughters entered the shop.
“Would you mind showing Lady Willow the new fabrics that arrived last week, Mr. Edison?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Madame Boulereau smiled, then left them to attend to the ladies who’d just entered.
“Shall we begin over here?” Blake led Lady Willow to the far side of the shop and down the farthest aisle. “I see Madame Boulereau already has the new silks and satins on display.”
“Oh, how exquisite,” Lady Willow said when they reached a rich peach-colored satin. Next to it was the same material in a lovely shade of pale green. She removed her glove and brushed her fingers over the material, then looked farther down the aisle to where several pastel shades of sheer netting were located. “Wouldn’t this make a lovely gown?” she asked, draping a sampling of light peach netting over the darker peach satin.
“Yes, I believe it would.”
Blake knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her face. She was truly in her element. She truly enjoyed the design discoveries that resulted from clever mixing and matching. Blake was startled to realize that her visible delight was a new and unexpected aspect of the lovely Lady Willow.
With tender care, she placed the swaths of material back on the table and walked to where Madame Boulereau had displayed several bolts of rich velvet and corduroy. The bolts were too heavy for her to lift down by herself, so Blake helped her when he saw which bolts she showed interest in.
To Blake, the bolts were nothing more than browns and greens and tans and burgundies. But when Lady Willow placed a swath of one color over another, the change was startling.
One by one she substituted colors, adding a rust-colored silk, or a butternut-colored lace. Each example was more eye-catching than the last. It gradually dawned on Blake that the talent she possessed should never be hidden even though Lady Willow was the daughter of nobility. It should be out where the world could take advantage of the magic she could concoct with fabrics and colors and designs.
Often, as Blake handed Lady Willow another bolt of fabric, their fingers touched. He tried to ignore the jolts of electricity that sizzled through his hand and up his arm. He couldn’t help but wonder if the lady experienced the same and thought perhaps she did. More than once, she quickly withdrew her ungloved hand from his as if his flesh had burned her. And another time, she simply locked her gaze with his as if she couldn’t understand what was happening between them.
They worked their way down the final aisle, where they were joined by Madame Boulereau. “Did you find anything you liked?” she asked.
“You know I did,” Lady Willow replied. “I always do.”
“If I may be so bold,” Blake interrupted, focusing on Lady Willow as he recognized a new-found respect for her and her talent. “A new shipment of materials just arrived at my warehouse, which is why I stopped to see Madame Boulereau. To see if she’d like to peruse the fabrics before I offer them to other linen-drapers and dressmakers. Perhaps you’d like to accompany her and see the goods I have to offer.”
“Oh, please do, Lady Willow. I would be honored to have your advice as to the materials you think I should purchase from Mr. Edison.”
Lady Willow’s eyes opened wide and filled with the excitement of a child seeing a mountain of presents beneath the tree on Christmas morning. “You’ve no idea how very much I’d enjoy that.”
Blake nodded, then made to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said as he forced himself to walk away before his schoolboy crush managed to embarrass him.
He felt Lady Willow’s gaze on his back as he approached the door and thought perhaps she might be as interested in him as he was in her. And that knowledge fr
ightened him to death. He couldn’t like her. Not if he intended to use her to destroy the Duke of Somerset.
. . . .
The next morning Blake stood at the open door to Edison Imports and watched Madame Boulereau’s carriage approach. When it stopped, Blake stepped out to greet his guests.
Madame Boulereau dismounted first, and Lady Willow followed. After greeting them properly, he escorted his guests to the warehouse.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Georgette. Lady Willow,” he said when they entered the building. “Allow me to present my associate, Mr. Liam McGregor.”
Liam executed a perfect bow. “Madame Boulereau. Lady Willow.”
“Mr. McGregor,” Willow greeted.
“Mr. McGregor and I are well acquainted,” Madame Boulereau greeted with a warm smile. “I’ve known him nearly as long as I’ve known Blake.”
“Yes, you have,” Liam answered. “I have refreshments ready,” he announced. “Would you care to enjoy a cup of tea first, or tour the warehouse before we make our way up?”
“I would love a cup of tea first,” Madame Boulereau answered.
“Allow me to escort you up to the office then,” Mr. McGregor said, extending his arm for Madame Boulereau to take.
Blake looked at Lady Willow. Her gaze was riveted upward, to the second level where bins filled with large bolts of material were stacked. Each row contained bin after bin of fabrics on warehouse shelves that reached nearly to the ceiling. The expression in Lady Willow’s eyes resembled the wide-eyed excitement of a child let loose in a candy store.
“Would you mind if I walked through the warehouse first?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Blake said, extending his arm. “Allow me.”
She placed her hand lightly on his arm and he led her to the first row of fabrics on the ground floor.
“Oh,” she breathed, dropping her hand and rushing forward. Her hand brushed across the first bolt of fabric, then the second, then the third. She released an appreciative ‘oh’ each time she spied a new fabric.
