choked down laughter. Her sisters were as awful as she was. “Perhaps. Who knows? Stranger things have happened…” Indeed.
“We intend to share him,” Teddy declared.
“What?” Isabel squeaked. She was wrong. Her sisters were much worse.
“He’ll never be able to tell,” Freddy explained with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“He will, when he knows you as well as I do,” Isabel muttered. “How will you share the man you love if you can’t share ribbons?” The very idea of having to share Ashby with another woman was enough to get her dander up. He was hers and hers alone. She’d waited seven years for him. She was not about to relinquish him—or any piece of him—to some grasping female.
“Izzy!” Teddy took her hand. “Which gown will you wear tonight? Not the dowdy things you’ve been putting on lately to discourage suitors.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “LJ will think we all have God-awful taste in clothes. You must make a very good impression.”
Isabel frowned. “I haven’t given thought to what I should wear.” But perhaps she should. Lancaster House shared a garden wall with the Barringtons’ town house. If she could slip out of the ball and…“Very well. We’ll head off to Madam Bonnier’s right away. Perhaps the gown I ordered for the Devonshire ball will be ready. Get your wraps.”
Her sisters cheered and dashed up the stairs. “And we need new ribbons!” Freddy shouted over her shoulder. “Mrs. Tiddles’s shop is right around the corner from Madam Bonnier’s!”
An hour later, Isabel’s mind was spinning with stealth tactics for a nocturnal visit to Ashby while her sisters were methodically transforming the elegant millinery shop on Bond Street into a Turkish bazaar. Her pulse accelerated each time she shut her eyes to imagine their get-together kiss—would it be achingly sweet or hard and needful, as his last kisses had been? He certainly mastered an impressive variety of kisses. Would he be as good a lover, she wondered. Lord, she was a shameless wanton! And what if she were? Ashby didn’t seem to mind. He liked her.
“Oh, dear! Where did I put the new French organdie?” Mrs. Tiddles, the elderly milliner, fussed behind the counter, pulling ribbons and filmy fichus out of boxes and drawers and piling them high in a rainbow heap. Teddy and Freddy were giving the poor woman a devil of a time.
“Do I look like a gypsy?” Freddy posed before the mirror with a rich, cobalt blue scarf.
“You look like a ninny,” Teddy retorted. “Gypsies don’t have blond curls and blue eyes.”
As she distractedly observed her sister using the scarf as a veil over her pretty face, Isabel thought of Ashby’s insistence on wearing a mask in her presence, even when he kissed her. How would he wed her if he didn’t allow her a glimpse of his face? Perhaps if she unmasked him, he would see that she didn’t recoil in disgust, that she wanted him despite his disfiguration. There was no doubt in her mind that she would, even if he looked like a hideous gargoyle. His wounds marked him as a hero, as one of the brave men who’d delivered the world from the clutches of Bonaparte, and she had been pining for Ashby for nearly a decade. Surely she could put up with a few scars, couldn’t she? As an unpleasant feeling began gnawing at her gut, she realized that the thought of losing him altogether terrified her far more than whatever he concealed.
“I’ll show you how gypsies wear scarves.” Teddy snatched the blue scarf from Freddy and wrapped it around her shoulders. Freddy tried to wrest it back and a rowdy argument ensued.
Isabel stepped in and confiscated the scarf. “Stop squabbling. You’re making a spectacle of us, behaving like a pair of fishwives. Choose your items and let us be off. Madam Bonnier closes her shop early, and we have yet to collect my gown. It must be ready by now.”
Teddy exchanged sardonic looks with her twin. “You didn’t seem to care in which gown the Golden Angel would see you before the flowers arrived.”
Isabel contained herself from muttering that she still didn’t care. Why would she fancy a self-enamored Adonis when she could have a strong, irresistible, generous man like Ashby? She had much better taste in men than the little monsters did when she was their age.
As her sisters occupied themselves in making their final selections, Isabel held the cobalt blue scarf over her nose and stared at her image in the mirror. With only her eyes showing, she almost looked as intriguing as Ashby did in his black mask. Perhaps she ought to call on him wearing a veil. Then they would have something to negotiate over, she mused naughtily.
Mrs. Tiddles’s clock struck the hour. Isabel’s stomach roiled. The nervous tightening in her chest was making it very difficult to draw a breath. Just a few more hours and she would see Ashby again. How would she survive that long? She would have to waste at least an hour on dances, commonplaces, and silly flirtations before it was safe to leave the ball. The gown Madam Bonnier had sewn for her was sure to make an impression on Ashby. Would he declare himself tonight? She hoped so. She couldn’t bear the wait.
“May I see the same design in yellow?” Freddy asked the milliner.
Isabel sighed with exasperation. “You’ve seen enough, Freddy. Make your choice.”
“It’s quite all right.” Mrs. Tiddles smiled sympathetically. “My girls were just as exuberant at fifteen. I’m only sorry I can’t find another scarf just like that one. My assistant kept everything in order, but the ungrateful girl up and left me last week without a word of warning. Ran off with her bloke, she did, after all I’ve done for her—taught her a profession, given her a roof over her head.” The woman heaved a sigh. “Now I’m all alone again. My girls live up north, you see.”
Isabel jumped at the opening. “Mrs. Tiddles, if I may, I would like to recommend someone to you, a young war widow, quiet and gentle-like, who is looking for such a post very keenly.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Tiddles clasped her hands together. “Who is this young woman?”
“She’s a skilled seamstress, presently employed in our household staff. She will suit your purposes very well, I should think. If you could provide lodging, I shall send her over today.”
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t dream of robbing Lady Aubrey of her household seamstress.”
“You mustn’t worry about that,” Isabel assured the woman. “She is a temporary employee. You see, I chair an organization that aids women who’ve lost their male providers in the war…” Isabel explained about her charity, offering the woman one of her calling cards. “So you see, you would be doing a great service to your country, as well. After all, this young woman’s husband gave his life so that we could go on with ours without fear of a French invasion.”
Mrs. Tiddles’s eyes watered emotionally. “How good of you, Miss Aubrey! Indeed, I’d be delighted to employ this young widow. I shall be forever grateful to you.” She smiled at Isabel. “If you could spare her today, we’ll have this evening to get to know each other before we begin putting this place in order tomorrow morning. What is her name?”
“Mary Higgins. Mrs. Frank Higgins,” Isabel emphasized. “She’s a delightful person. She’ll tidy up your shop in no time.” She couldn’t contain her smile; she was so pleased for poor Mary. This was indeed an auspicious day, she thought euphorically. First Ashby and now this. And if her luck persisted, she would be engaged to be married by midnight.
Конец
