blinked. She and Alice peered around the studio doorframe as Colette gave a little curtsy and replied, “I am Colette LeChaud Bentley, at your service, sir. And what might we show you? The latest sketches from my sister’s Parisian collection, perhaps, or—”
“You are already showing me what I’ve come to see,” the stranger replied with a dapper bow. His lip quirked suggestively as he gazed at Colette and then reached for her hand.
What sort of remark was that? Camille felt a jolt of apprehension—or was it envy?—as the genteel man kissed her sister’s wedding ring.
Alice drew Camille back into the studio, her eyes wide. “It’s him! The foreigner I spoke to outside!” she whispered.
“I’ve heard nothing but complimentary reviews of your gowns, and I’ve come to indulge a very special lady in something…original. Exquisite.” His sonorous voice was soft, yet it filled the front foyer with a male mystique that was having an obvious effect on Colette.
Her businesslike twin’s hand fluttered to her collarbone, left bare above her simple dress of claret crepe. “We specialize in exquisite, sir,” she replied silkily. “You’ve come to the right place!”
“Indeed I have! I am Hadrian Swann, and so very pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with another courtly bow. “I look forward to our close association, and to giving you the business.”
For the first time Camille could ever remember, her sister stood speechless.
4
Hadrian Swann inhaled sharply. It was all he could do not to devour the delectable morsel of a woman who gripped his hand and gazed so coquettishly into his eyes. But it wouldn’t do, to let his masculine instincts overrule rational thought. It was reward enough to know his arduous trek—his life’s mission—hadn’t been made in vain.
For a long moment he savored Colette LeChaud Bentley’s fine, ripe scent…the tilt of her mussed, upswept hair…a button left undone where the swell of her bosom played it to best advantage. She showed all the signs of a woman who’d been bedded this morning, and despite the marital dissatisfactions she’d shared with her sister, Hadrian sensed Colette gave as good as she got. His trousers tightened.
Colette Bentley could not suspect he’d overheard the conversation she and her twin had shared while he watched their shadows behind the window glass…their undressing, and then circling each other…the way one had repeatedly touched the other’s breasts. No doubt the LeChaud sisters had been working on a gown, but from where he’d stood it looked like the Bentley wives were intimately touching each other while plotting a most incredible escapade…a deception that told him as much about Rutledge Bentley and his son Heath as it informed him about the flirtatious French women they’d married.
But this was no time for speculating about Bentley and his son, and no time to get sidetracked by his fantasies. Now, while he stood within the domain of these two talented, scheming brunettes, he would give them the business, as he’d promised.
“I wish to surprise a very special lady with something so exquisite she’ll love me forever,” he murmured in a husky voice. “Will you advise me about fabrics and designs that will complement her striking features?”
“Striking in what way, Mr. Swann?” Colette Bentley smiled eagerly as she led him to an entire wall of deep shelves that held dozens of bolts of fabrics. It was a feast for the eye, yet all the rich rainbow colors and the textures that beckoned his fingers paled in comparison to this fetching shopkeeper.
“She is delicate, but has a flawless olive complexion and hair that shines like ebony.”
“And her size? We’ll need her measurements, you know!” An identical twin emerged from a room at the rear of the salon. She looked different from Colette only because she wore a gown of bright pink that displayed an alluring four inches of cleavage, and her glossy brown hair was perfectly coifed above her fresh, arresting face. “Camille LeChaud Bentley,” she said as she extended her hand. “I design our original gowns, and I’ll be pleased to help you choose beautiful fabrics that outshine what any other couturiere in London will show you!”
“Delighted to meet you,” Hadrian replied as he bowed over her delicate hand. Her skin was smooth and her facial features so fair and flawless he could’ve gazed into them all day.
Was it this sweet lamb that had married Rutledge Bentley? And who claimed her husband couldn’t service her? The mere thought of her virginity—and indeed, to his astute masculine eye, Camille Bentley appeared prim and pristine—whetted his appetite beyond his wildest dreams. He felt like the wolf lying in wait for Red Riding Hood…thoughts of slipping into her bed to make a woman of her made him prickle with anticipation.
But that’s not why he’d come! Or at least it hadn’t been his original motivation for this trip to England, even if his plans were now surging along a primrose path, spurred on by his desire.
Hadrian smiled as he looked from one sister to the other. Damned if they didn’t appear identical right down to the dimples in their chins and the rise and fall of their breasts as they breathed together. He had no doubt they could outfox their husbands, because he himself would have to be very careful if the time ever came for him to distinguish between them. And he suspected it would.
“And what did you say you’d come for, sir?” Colette smiled sweetly yet knowingly, as though she’d read his randy thoughts.
Hadrian focused on the bolts of fabric before them, reminding himself of his original scheme. “With her exotic coloring, my lady looks especially fetching in white,” he mused aloud. “And I plan to surprise her with the gift of a simple, flowing gown which might serve as a wedding dress—if she accepts my proposal, of course!”
“I can’t imagine any woman refusing you, sir,” the prim twin in pink replied.
“And her family won’t provide her a gown?”
“Ah, but her family is already gone, you see,” Hadrian replied with the proper degree of sympathy. No need for Colette, the astute one, to suspect he was fabricating this story, even if the lady in question was real. “And as she was left destitute, I wish to provide her all she’ll ever need. I want her to have every reason to trust and love me.”
Camille reached toward a high shelf to grasp a bolt of shimmering white fabric, which brought her breasts to the brink of her low-cut bodice. Hadrian forced himself to look at the airy cloth while he imagined this twin naked in a gown made from it…a gown that would cover her from neck to toe yet leave her feminine charms completely revealed. “Yes! This is perfect!” he crooned as his fingers brushed hers. “I do believe an angel might wear this as a wedding gown!”
“It’s truly gorgeous, sir. Your lady will love it!” Camille agreed as she set the bolt on a nearby table. “Will you be choosing laces and trims now, or when you—”
“I trust your designer’s eye. My lady is sweet and unassuming. Not one who follows the current trend of ostentatious overadornment.”
“Simplicity is a virtue,” Colette chimed in, “and my sister will fashion a gown to make any lady feel like the angel you’ve described. What else may we show you? Fabric for her trousseau, perhaps? For traveling suits and evening attire on your honeymoon?”
Ah, this one knew how to drive up her shop’s profits! Hadrian admired a woman with ambition,
