who wanted to be ‘Dressed by Belle’ would upset Belinda.
Belle put down the lace she was using to create an intricate rose, and gave her full attention to Tippen. ‘Right, you have my full, intrigued attention. I assume he is a gentleman of the ton?’
Tippen nodded.
‘Who wishes me to dress his mistress, or is she not quite so well esteemed? Or am I now supposed to be amenable to making pantaloons and shirts?’
Tippen sniggered. ‘That I would like to see. You measuring a gentlemen to make sure his, ahem, attributes fit in.’
Belinda gaped and then the picture Tippen’s words created filled her mind and she laughed. ‘Left- or right-sided my lord? Now how much extra knit do you think we’ll need? Are you one who grows or one who shows? Let me measure you. Oh Lord, Tippen, could you imagine it?’
I can. Oh my I can.
Tippen nodded enthusiastically, and continued to snigger until she had to wipe her cheeks with her hands. ‘Oh yes.’
‘And me.’ Belinda sobered. ‘Ah well, it’s a nice dream for us. It’s not something that is likely to happen in our lifetime, not even if we live to be one hundred. So it is one of this gentleman’s women? Whom he will not mention, unless I agree to dress her. Therefore I must assume she is not convenable. Oh, and you still haven’t mentioned who he is.’
Was it that the woman was an opera dancer or some such like? Whom Belle had made a point of not accepting as clients, mainly because their protectors were usually the husbands of those ladies she did dress. The ramifications of an accidental meeting were enough to make Belinda’s blood run cold.
Tippen drew herself up straight, and took a deep breath. ‘Nothing like opera dancers, or I don’t think so. It’s just that, it’s well, oh my, the gentleman concerned is none other than Lord Macpherson.’
It was as well Belinda had put down her needle or it was a certainty she would have pricked herself. She absently rubbed the crescent-shaped scar on the fleshy part of her hand.
‘Ah. As in Phillip, Clarissa’s brother?’
Tippen nodded. ‘The very same.’
‘Interesting.’ Belle took a deep breath and counted to five, very slowly, in order to decrease the pace of her heart. Even after all these years, she still held on to a certain amount of tenderness for him. ‘Did he recognise you?’
Tippen shook her head. ‘He never messed with the servants and I was naught but a child when he visited Lady Lakenby regularly.’
‘Did he say who the woman is?’ Belinda was curious. Clarissa had confided only a few days earlier that she thought Phillip had a new mistress but couldn’t work out who it was. She had also said it was the third woman in as many months whom he was thought to be bedding. Clarissa’s exact but crude expression was ‘one week plucking, three weeks fucking and they’re out’. Belinda accepted she would never reach the heady heights of knowing him as he did those women, and indeed was happy with the life she had made—with the help of other strong women like Clarissa and Lady L. However, she couldn’t help but wonder… What is it like to be desired in such a way? In any way? Is it enough?
Tippen coughed delicately and Belinda realised she must have been wool-gathering.
‘Sorry, you were saying?’
‘Very close-mouthed he was. He said that unless you agreed to dress the lady, you would have no need to discover her identity. It was strange really. I did wonder if he’d recognise me, but he didn’t. I know I haven’t seen much of him these past few years, since I was in service and not one of the scrubby village kids, but I was around sometimes when he visited Lady Lakenby with Lady Clarissa.’
‘People only see what they expect to see,’ Belinda said with a smile. ‘Not you or me.’ The test would be if he recognised her as his sister’s friend.
‘That’s true, but what do I tell Lord Phillip? He’s waiting for an answer.’
‘What?’ Belinda stared at her companion. ‘Waiting here?’
‘Well he wouldn’t go away until I approached you. Very insistent he was that I asked you now, and gave him the answer straight away.’
‘Oh Lud. How on earth do I explain that even if I do see the lady there is no guarantee I’ll agree to outfit her?’ That was the cardinal rule. Even if Madame Belle agreed to a preliminary meeting, that didn’t mean she would take you as a client. There was also a rule that one agreement did not necessarily mean any more garments would be made. Each approach was decided on its own merit. So much depended on how much advice a client took on board, and as Clarissa had once put it, how well they continued to show off their clothes to their best advantage.
‘For if one has gone to seed, why be an advertisement for that?’ Clarissa had said prosaically.
Belinda agreed.
‘Madame?’
Oh Lord she’d yet again forgotten why Tippen stood in front of her with a look of query on her face.
‘Where is he?’ She automatically slipped into the voice she used for her clients. Luckily.
‘If you mean me, I’m here.’ The gentleman in question strolled into the workroom and bowed. ‘Lord Phillip Macpherson, at your service.’
Belinda had to force herself not to scowl. Just like fine wine he’d matured well. Damn it.
* * *
Phillip straightened up from his bow, and studied the stunning woman in front of him. She was dressed in understated elegance, held herself like any lady of the ton, and made his body harden with instant, unexpected desire. That jolted him. He might be renowned throughout the ton for his prowess in the bedchamber—or in an empty room at a ball—but rarely did someone affect him in such a manner. In fact, he thought as he willed his body to behave, the last time a lady had affected him so strongly, she was a young friend of his sister’s and he had fought against that attraction. Belinda Howells had been too young and too innocent for him. Then she’d dropped out of view and Clarissa had told him she’d moved to the north. He’d felt a pang of disappointment. She intrigued him. Pity about her awful family of course. Those he held in contempt. But Belinda now? If she’d been older…
He shut that thought away. She was a friend of his sister’s, welcome in his father’s house. No way could he have dallied there. But, she had affected him in the same way it appeared the lady in front of him did. Because once more his body was demanding he paid proper attention to a woman probably not suited to or interested in him. More’s the pity.
‘Madame Belle?’ He looked into deep, dark eyes, and wondered where he’d seen such intense blue irises before. She reminded him of someone but at that moment he had no idea whom.
She nodded. ‘My lord. How exactly can I hep you?’ The accent was a mix of French and English, and called to him like a siren song.
Phillip prowled around the room. One long table and a tall cupboard filled one side of it. The other had a deep and comfortable-looking daybed, two armchairs and a low table between them. The fireplace was ornate, and the light fittings of
