with a headdress and veil. “I draw what I see in my mind’s eye. I’ve learned to trust my hunches and make corrections before I cut a pattern, although my first impressions usually delight my clients.”
“You have a true talent, Lady Bentley.” Her intuitive way of “seeing” things might not play to his best interest, yet it fascinated him. And he had guessed correctly: this was Camille, Lord Bentley’s wife. “While I truly admire your creative originality with this gown and her costume for the ball, the other three dresses may be more ordinary. Simply day wear for—”
“Ah, no!” she protested prettily. “Any lady of yours would be far from ordinary, so why would I rely upon mundane designs? Or fall back on last season’s fabrics and accessories that don’t speak to her special place in your life? The house of LeChaud Soeurs sets the trends for haute couture and insists upon service above and beyond what you’ve come to expect elsewhere.”
Service above and beyond…Hadrian’s mind—and other body parts—fluttered at this thought until he forced his attention back to the business at hand. Damn, but these two could lead him a long way down the primrose path before he realized how far astray they’d taken him. And what man would care?
A dangerous thought indeed.
“So I see.” He smiled again; pretended not to notice how Colette tucked his money between the buttons of her bodice…into her corset? He suddenly imagined her standing before him clad only in that tightly laced undergarment and her stockings…pale thighs a-quiver and open to his gaze…
“You must tell me more about your lady, sir. Is she fair? Or does her complexion and hair color resemble your exotic coloring?”
Hadrian blinked. Had the twin in pink asked him a question? His mind had been wandering up the length of her sister’s shapely thigh.
“Camille has an unerring sense of color,” Colette explained. “While it would be best for you to simply bring your lady here for—”
“Oh, no, she’s quite shy! And…” Hadrian forced himself into a more rational frame of mind. “And these gowns, you recall, are to be a gift! A surprise! So I’ll trust your ability to fit her from her measurements….”
Damn. Both beauties were gazing at him as though they’d read his randy thoughts. And what had the original question been, anyway?
“So! She has your olive complexion, then?” Camille chirped. “And the midnight hair and ebony eyes to go with it?”
Hadrian nearly choked. How did she know these things? “You are quite astute, madam. She is indeed dark and mysterious and exotic—not that she resembles me!” he added quickly.
“So she will look absolutely divine in this new handkerchief linen, in the pale pink, I should think!” Camille bustled over to the shelves, gesticulating with her sketch pad. “And a suit of this coral serge would be ideal! So few English ladies wear that color well, that your beloved will stand out in any crowd. She’ll be the envy of all her companions!”
“I should think the fawn watermarked silk would be ideal, as well,” Colette chimed in. “Perhaps with ivory ribbons and lace to draw the eye to her exquisite face.”
“Quite so! Will there be anything else, Mr. Swann? We’re doing so well!”
Hadrian watched bolts of those fabrics land on the table. And before he could even consider the choices they’d proposed, the Bentley twins had plucked lace and ribbon and other accessories from their shelves to display them atop the fabrics they would soon embellish. He had to admit they were very, very good at what they did for a living.
And why are they plying this trade in the first place? Why do Lord Bentley and his illustrious son allow their wives to work? Unless the state of the family fortune falls beneath what my research suggests?
He smiled again, hoping the ladies couldn’t really read his mind. “Splendid! She’ll be so pleased.”
“And she’ll be the belle of the costume ball next week. This is Lord Herrington’s party, I assume?”
“Yes, I—I’ve come to London to confer with him about—”
“It will be our pleasure to see her there, wearing our creation! And to meet her!”
Hadrian stepped back, toward the door. When he’d followed their subtle lead about the party in the first place, he hadn’t considered that the twins would insist on meeting the woman he escorted. And they’d know exactly which woman she was, too! Damn! These enchanting ladies were his gateway to Bentley, but in their endearing, unwitting way they might have set a trap, as well.
“Will you be coming by to approve the basted gowns, Mr. Swann? Or shall we complete them before you—”
“They’ll exceed my expectations! I’m certain of it!” he gushed. The loud clatter of the brass knocker announced another client as Hadrian replaced his hat, hoping his relief didn’t show.
A man entered in a gust of wind, or at least he had a presence unlike any Swann had ever experienced: windswept brown hair framed his exquisite face, which was dominated by hawklike eyes. A red silk scarf fluttered around his neck. He wore his outlandish purple cape with the panache of a circus ringmaster while exuding an air of arcane power that made everything in the shop vibrate.
“Camille! Colette!” he announced in a breathy voice. “I’m off to conduct a séance for close friends of the queen, should you need me—or should Lord Bentley distress you further about my presence here last night.”
“Thank you, Rubio. I can assure you that my husband…” Camille’s gaze flitted to Hadrian, signaling a subject too indelicate to be discussed before clients. “Lord Bentley got his licks in after we returned home last night. The matter is settled now.”
Got his licks in? Hadrian prickled with curiosity as he followed this Rubio’s response. If he was about to conduct a séance…
“Please excuse my lapse of manners! Mr. Hadrian Swann, may I present Rubio Palladino, the medium renowned across the Continent?” Camille said with a wave of her graceful hand. “Mr. Swann has just commissioned some lovely gowns—”
As the man in the outrageous cape gripped his hand, Hadrian felt a subtle jolt of power…a sensation akin to an electrical current. And when he met Palladino’s gaze, he had the ridiculous notion that this so-called medium already knew more about him than was prudent. Yet it suddenly occurred to him that a man who summoned spirits…a man who had apparently inspired Rutledge Bentley’s temper…might be just the ace he needed up his sleeve for future gaming. “Quite pleased to meet you, Palladino! I’ll know whom to call upon if ever I’m in need of spirited assistance.”
The medium’s slender hand gripped his with surprising strength. “Be careful what you ask for, Mr. Swann. Birds of a feather flock together.”
Now what the hell did that mean? Hadrian released Palladino’s hand, and after the medium said his good-byes and exited in a swirl of flashy fabric, he took his own leave. Better to duck out before the twins pressed him for any more information, considering what they’d already coaxed out of him with their flirtatious ways.
And yet, as he strode down the sidewalk, Hadrian erupted in a chuckle until passersby gawked at him. But what did he care? He’d ingratiated himself to the Bentley women, he’d learned some
