Dressed to Kiss
Page 38
Sophie-Louise’s gaze narrowed, but she only said, “I see.”
The day passed in a blur. Sophie-Louise resumed control of the shop as if she’d never been gone, leaving Felicity feeling oddly disgraced. She busied herself with her own work, focusing on Lady Carmarthen’s gown and trying hard not to think of the lady’s son. She managed to send a note to Evan around midday, informing him her mother had returned and he shouldn’t call on her that night.
Her throat felt tight as she sealed it, unable to keep back the thought that it was likely the beginning of the end, if not the outright end, of their affair. She could hardly go to him, and he couldn’t come to her while her mother was living with her again.
And for several days he didn’t come. At first Felicity was relieved, but soon it turned to black despair. She missed him. She missed his wry smile, the timbre of his voice, the touch of his hands. She missed being able to do as she wished, without her mother’s sharp eye observing everything. Every night her mother interrogated her about some facet of the business until Felicity could have screamed.
Henry came only briefly, long enough to tell his mother he was in love and planned to marry Katherine Grant. Sophie-Louise flew into ecstasy, demanding to meet the young lady and insisting on making her bride clothes, and then she utterly pardoned Henry for sending her away from the shop. Once again Henry could do no wrong, and Felicity had to defend every decision.
But the subject she most dreaded did not come up. Sophie-Louise railed against the development of Vine Street, but she didn’t specifically ask about the man in charge of it. Felicity hoped that was out of ignorance, but finally her mother brought it up.
“Tell me about Carmarthen,” she said one night as they sewed under the lamplight. It had been gray and grim all day, making Vine Street seem even more desolate than usual, and now the storm had arrived, thunder growling overhead and rain beating down. Felicity spared a worried thought for the leaky roof, and said a quick prayer Evan would yet locate some other suitable premises. She was sure her mother would agree to move in an instant if something like that Bond Street shop could be found.
She dragged her mind back to her mother’s question. “He’s bought everything else in the street. He wants to buy Follette’s as well, so he can rebuild everything like it is in Regent Street.”
“No, Felicity, tell me about him.” Sophie-Louise turned a sharp gaze on her. “I hear he has been often to the shop, even in the evening.”
The needle slipped right through the fabric, past her thimble, into the pad of her finger. Felicity winced. “He’s an earl. His mother and sister ordered several gowns.”
“He drove you out several times. Alice tells me he’s very handsome.”
Felicity pulled too hard on her thread, and it broke. “What are you asking, Mama?”
Her mother lifted one shoulder. “Is it Follette’s he wants?”
She looked up and met her mother’s eyes defiantly. “Yes.”
Sophie-Louise didn’t look convinced. “How will he react when he does not get Follette’s?”
Felicity hesitated, then put down her sewing. “Mama, we have to sell.” Sophie-Louise gathered breath to reply, and Felicity held up one hand. “He’s right about Vine Street. It’s falling apart, no longer fashionable or genteel. Our roof leaks. Every other building has been sold, and will be torn down any day now. Soon our clients won’t be able to drive to our door, and the shop will be filled with dust.”
Her mother’s eyes snapped. “How can you defend this? This shop, it is my life!”
“Relocating is the only way to save it!” Felicity pleaded. “He’s made a generous offer—”
“But what has he offered you?” Sophie-Louise demanded. “I will not sell to a man who trifles with my daughter, not even if he offers me ten thousand pounds.” Shocked, Felicity fell back in her chair. Her mother’s mouth firmed. “I have been waiting all week to hear about him. Can I not see the shadow that crosses your face every time he is mentioned? Henri tells me a little, Alice and Sally a little more, and Selina tells me the most: that you looked like a woman in love. But he has not come to call, nor have you spoken of him. If he has broken your heart, I will never forgive him, nor will I do anything to help him.”
“Mama…” Her voice trailed off, stunned.
Sophie-Louise raised her brows. “Why do you think I came back to London? It’s very pleasant in Brighton. Sea-bathing is a delight.”
A full minute of silence reigned. Finally Felicity wet her lips. “He promised me nothing,” she said softly. “I fell in love with him knowing it would never lead to anything. You mustn’t blame him.”
Her mother made a scoffing noise.
Felicity sighed. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’ve not heard from him in days. Whatever was between us … is over.”
Evan walked the streets of London for what seemed like hours before he finally turned into Vine Street.
The threatening sky had given way to a full-blown storm, and he was thoroughly soaked. Despite being only ten o’clock, it felt like the middle of the night, so dark had the day been. And that suited his mood.
He stood on the pavement across from Follette’s, eyes fixed on the lights in the topmost windows. He knew the rooms well, after the many nights he’d spent there, talking and laughing and making love with Felicity. Just being here again after so many days away made his heart ache. God, he missed her.
Her note, warning him that her mother had returned and he shouldn’t visit, had been both a relief and a cruelty. Cruel, because he thought he’d never needed her more. Relief, because it excused him from seeing her with such turmoil in his heart and mind.
Could he let her go? Could he keep her?
Grantham thought he was deranged. His mother was shocked. Evan had felt he had to tell them what he planned to do, but neither had helped put his mind at ease. So here he was, in the pouring rain, as wretched as any schoolboy.
Shadows at the window moved. Suddenly the curtain was drawn aside, and there she was, wrestling with the window, trying to pry it open a few inches. Evan’s heart gave a great leap at the sight of her, and before he knew it his feet had begun moving, taking him across the street. Hesitant no longer, he raised his hand and pounded on the door to make her hear him over the storm.
Several minutes later a light glowed in the salon. Holding the lamp aloft, Felicity came forward and peered out into the darkness. Her face blanked in astonishment when she saw him, and she hurried forward to slide back the bolt and open the door.
“I know it’s late,” he said before she could speak. “I had to see you. May I come in?”
Regret flashed over her face. “Evan—”
“Please, darling,” he said. “Hear me out.”
At the endearment, something lit in her eyes, and a tiny smile curved her lips. With a nod, she stepped back and let him in, closing the door against the rain behind him.
“Who is there? Is it Henri?” Another woman came into the salon, lamp in hand.
Evan knew at once it was Felicity’s mother. Sophie-Louise was the same height as her daughter, a little plumper and a lot grayer. The same blue eyes snapped in her face as she swept an imperious glance over him. “What is the meaning of this, sir?”
“Mama, this is Lord Carmarthen,” said Felicity. “My mother, Mrs. Dawkins, sir.”
“A great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Dawkins.” He bowed very formally, ignoring the rain that dripped off his shoulders.
“My lord.” Mrs. Dawkins dipped a shallow curtsy. “The shop is closed.”
“I know. I apologize for disturbing you, but…” His gaze slid back to Felicity, who wore an expression of composed anxiety. “I had to speak to Miss Dawkins and could not wait even until tomorrow.”
“Ah. What have you come to say?”
“Mama,” said Felicity under her breath.
Evan turned back to the older woman. “Mrs. Dawkins, I would like to purchase this building. My solicitor, M
r. Grantham, has written to you several times about it.”
She sniffed. “I recall his letters.”
“In your absence, I approached your daughter, Miss Dawkins.” Again he looked at her. What would she say to this? “She repeated, very firmly, your opposition to selling, but at last we struck a bargain: She would encourage you to sell to me if, and when, a suitable location was found elsewhere for Madame Follette’s.”
Mrs. Dawkins looked at her daughter with furious dismay. Felicity flushed, but gave a small nod.
Evan plowed onward. “We located a fine shop in Bond Street, but the rent asked was too high. Believing that Miss Dawkins found it perfectly suited to her needs, I negotiated with the landlord. I have come tonight to offer you the premises at Bond Street and Clifford Street for the rent of thirty pounds per annum.”
Felicity gasped. “How on earth—?”
He’d bought the whole damn building from Mr. Jackson, just concluded that afternoon. He’d explain that later. “In addition, I am increasing my offer for this building by two hundred pounds,” Evan said, holding up one hand to stay her. “Can we agree, Mrs. Dawkins?”
The older woman’s face grew stern. “Am I to agree to this now? I have not seen this shop, and even then, we could not possibly remove from these quarters before Michaelmas.”
“Mrs. Dawkins, workmen will begin demolishing Vine Street within the week. All the papers are signed and filed. It is imperative that you relocate at the soonest possible opportunity.”
Her eyes flashed. She set down her lamp on the counter and crossed her arms. “My answer is the same I gave to your presumptuous lawyer: no.”
“Mama, the shop he mentions is perfect,” said Felicity urgently. “A vast step up for Follette’s.”
Her mother shot her a sharp look, but Evan thought there was a crack in her adamant refusal. He plunged his hand into one pocket as he crossed the room toward her. “Perhaps this will alter your decision.” He pulled out a diamond bracelet and laid it on the counter, where it glittered in the lamplight.
Felicity, who had followed him, choked. “Goodness!”
Evan kept his eyes on Mrs. Dawkins. She frowned at the bracelet. He pulled out a necklace and put it next to the bracelet. Mrs. Dawkins’s eyes flared in recognition, but she said nothing. He added a pair of earrings and a brooch before she spoke. “The diadem,” was all she said, in a flat voice.
“Broken up,” he told her. That was the only piece Grantham had failed to buy, because it had been split up several years ago.
Felicity held her lamp higher over the jewels, her face pale. “What is this?”
“It is a threat.” Mrs. Dawkins looked at Evan grimly. “Sell, or you will expose me.”
“No.” He gazed back evenly, but reached for Felicity’s hand. “It’s not a threat.” He glanced at Felicity, and smiled to banish her anxious expression. “I hope it will be a wedding gift.”
Her lips parted, and her beautiful eyes grew bright. Evan folded her hand between his. “I’ve been lost without you these last few days. I love you, darling. Marry me, I beg you.”
She looked stunned, raising a trembling hand to touch his cheek. “You love me?”
“Madly,” he confessed. “Didn’t you guess?”
An incredulous smile spread across her face. “I was so afraid to hope you might…”
His grip tightened on her hands. “Then…?”
“Yes,” she said, beginning to laugh. “Yes!”
“And?” he prompted, now grinning like a fool himself.
Her smile grew warm, and she put her arms around his neck, in spite of his dripping wet coat. “I love you, Evan.”
He had time to brush his lips across hers before Sophie-Louise Dawkins cleared her throat. Felicity’s mother was still pale, her eyes fixed on the diamond parure on the counter. “Where did you get these?”
“Here and there,” said Evan vaguely. “All entirely legal, of course. The comte de Challe never made it out of France. It’s been more than twenty years since his jewels went missing, which means no one can be prosecuted.” He pictured Felicity sprawled in his bed, wearing the diamonds and nothing else. “And now they’re mine, to give as I wish.”
Felicity, looking between them, shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Her mother reached out and gingerly touched the pendant stone in the necklace, a stunning diamond the size of an acorn. “These were the property of the comtesse de Challe,” she said in a low voice. “My mistress in France. When the Terror came, she wished to flee. The comte delayed, to gather funds and valuables, and by the time we set off for England, the revolutionaries were at our heels. We were detained in Calais. My master thought they would be robbed of everything, so he gave me the jewels and some money and instructed me to continue to England and wait for them there.” She raised haunted eyes to them. “I waited for months, monsieur. Months with no word, no aid. The money was gone and I—” Her gaze veered to Felicity, then away. “I had to support myself.”
Evan guessed what she left unsaid: She’d been expecting a child, without a husband. His arms tightened around Felicity. Those diamonds had given her a safe home, a happy childhood, and then a livelihood. Thank heavens Sophie-Louise had sold them. “I don’t blame you,” he said quietly.
“You bought this shop with money from these,” whispered Felicity numbly. “Oh, Mama…”
Mrs. Dawkins drew a deep breath. “Monsieur le comte, I accept your offer. If you are to be my son-in-law, I will not fear you sending me to prison. You may buy this shop, because…” She smiled, a bit uncertainly, at Felicity. “I trust my daughter’s judgment. If she says the other premises are perfect, that is all I need to know. She has taken excellent care of Follette’s in my absence.”
“Thank you, Mama,” said Felicity softly.
Her mother raised an eyebrow, glancing from the diamonds to Evan and back to her daughter. “I believe I should be thanking you,” she said gently, and turned toward the stairs. “I am going now. You may kiss him to your heart’s content.” She left, taking one lamp with her.
Evan reached for the necklace. “How soon do you want to be married?”
Felicity pressed one hand to her forehead, looking overwhelmed. “I have commissions to finish—your mother—”
“She can wait. I cannot.” He fastened the necklace around her neck and admired it, lying just above the swells of her bosom. “Next week?”
She gasped. “I haven’t a gown!”
“Wear the blue one that you wore to Grantham’s office. I nearly lost my wits when you walked in.” He eyed the diamonds again. “And wear these.”
She touched them. “How did you know about these? And why did you buy them?”
“I bought them so no one could ever harass your mother about them,” he said, ignoring the first question. He’d explain about that later. “So we’re agreed: The wedding will be next week.”
Felicity began to laugh. “Must you win every negotiation between us?” He put his hands on her hips and boosted her to sit on the counter, putting his face level with her bosom. At the first touch of his lips on her skin, her laughter faded. “Yes,” she breathed, “next week would suit me perfectly.”
Evan grinned, and blew out the lamp. “Excellent. Now kiss me, to your heart’s content.”
In the darkness she smiled, pulling him close. “That will take the rest of my life.”
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About the Author
Caroline Linden was born a reader, not a writer. She earned a math degree from Harvard University and wrote computer software before turning to writing fiction. Since then the Boston Red Sox have won the World Series three times, which can hardly be a coincidence. Her books have won the NEC Reader’s Choice Award, the Daphne du Maurier Award, and RWA’s RITA Award, and have been translated into seventeen languages.
If you’d like to be notified when her next book is available, visit her website to sign up for her newsletter. You can also follow her on twitter or like her on Facebook.
Also by Caroline Linden
The Scandals Series
Love and Other Scandals
It Takes a Scandal
All's Fair in Love and Scandal (novella)
Love in the Time of Scandal
A Study in Scandal (novella)
Six Degrees of Scandal
The Truth About the Duke Series
I Love the Earl (novella)
One Night in London
Blame It on Bath
The Way to a Duke’s Heart
The Reece Family Series
What a Gentleman Wants
What a Rogue Desires
A Rake’s Guide to Seduction
Other Novels
What a Woman Needs
Short Stories and Novellas
Like None Other
Written in my Heart
When I Met my Duchess, novella in At the Duke’s Wedding
Will You Be My Wi-Fi?, novella in At the Billionaire’s Wedding
Table of Contents
Prologue
The Duke's Dressmaker
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About the Author