Page 67 of A Symphony for the Earl

“Yes, he is. I am glad that pleases you.”

“Of course, I welcome Denys’s company,” she replied primly. “He is always entertaining.”

Fiona grinned. “What a ‘lark’ as Octavia would say. I’ve heard my father speak of Newmarket often.”

“It’s two-and-a-half-days’ drive if we travel fast and change horses. This is a preliminary race; the big purses are later in the month, but there will still be plenty of people attending. I plan to leave early on Saturday. Also, you’ll be pleased to hear, Valentina, that I hired a secretary today. A most efficient young man.”

“I am so glad you took my advice, Richard. I’m sure that shifting some of your responsibilities will help with those dreadful headaches.”

He rose and pulled a watch from his gray silk waistcoat. “Let me call for the carriage, or you’ll be late for the modiste.”

“Valentina, ring for Clara,” Lady Amelia gathered her papers. “We only need to fetch our cloaks and bonnets.”

There were no other clients present at Madame Brigitte’s shop. Lady Amelia must have arranged for their privacy since there was so much to be done for the wedding.

The first order of business was a bridal dress. Brigitte had several bolts of fabric ready to show, and all were so beautiful that it was difficult to choose. In the end, Fiona picked an ivory satin with a design of daylilies pressed into the fabric. She agreed to the modiste’s suggestion of an empire gown with a train several feet long, falling from just under the shoulders.

Rather than a veil, Madame promised an exquisite bonnet of cream silk, with plumes dyed to match the irises in the bouquet. All three women pored over materials for their ball gowns.

Lady Amelia picked out a cameo-pink taffeta for Octavia and a mauve damask for herself. After much indecision, Valentina chose a striking blue crepe for the ball and took her mother’s suggestion for a pale-lavender satin for the wedding.

Fiona looked through the fabrics for a ball gown with little success until Madame Brigitte disappeared into a back room and brought out a package wrapped in tissue. She unraveled a deep-pomegranate silk so fine that it clung to her fingers.

“This has just arrived from Paris and it is quite the rage, cette couleur. I know most jeune filles will wear the paler ones, but perhaps this fabric for the skirt and a bodice of Chantilly lace en vanille and matching ribbons?”

“Oh, my,” breathed Valentina. “Of course, you will take that…it will be stunning with your ebony hair and fair skin.”

Lady Amelia nodded. “A vivid choice, perhaps, but the Countess of Seldon will set fashions.”

“It is lovely,” Fiona agreed.

“Ah, c’est bien! And now, for the trousseau. I have promised your très séduisant earl that my girls will work night and day to complete it.”

She frowned. “Madame, I need but a few things. You must not put yourself out.”

“Quelle absurdité! But that is my pleasure, to make the garments exquise for such a belle jeune fille. You would not deprive me of such happiness, would you?” Brigitte asked in a woeful tone.

“Fiona, it is Richard’s wedding gift to you,” Lady Amelia begged. “You cannot be so ungracious as to refuse.”

She bit her lip, fast regretting her stubbornness about the trousseau. She certainly did not have the funds to cover such an expense, and it seemed like a small thing to give in to the family’s wishes. Most women were dependent upon their husbands’ fortunes, weren’t they? Her present collection was out of style and Madame Brigitte had so many lovely things planned.

“I have l’arrangement parfait with Mrs. Baker, a true artiste of the millinery, and others very good to furnish the accessoires, n’est ce-pas? You will let me handle the details, ma chérie?”

“I don’t wish to be disrespectful, Lady Amelia…” she wavered.

Sensing a crack in her client’s resolve, Brigitte took the opportunity to call her assistants over. “Vite! Vite! Bring the fabrics I have set aside for Mademoiselle Rafferty—I may call you Fiona, yes, ma chère?”

A dozen bolts of fabric appeared in a flash, each more beautiful than the last. Muslins in beautiful pale greens and aquamarines to flatter her coloring; luxurious challis, crepe, and brocades in deeper shades; delicate gauzes and sarsenet in gold and silver.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, fingering a batiste so sheer it could only be for undergarments.

“And the accoutrements…” Madame motioned toward a table covered with cords of delicate laces and rich trims. “Tell me what materials you prefer, and I shall make la magie!”

Fiona left the shop an hour later, completely overwhelmed. Every part of her body had been measured from head to toe, and a simple list of dresses had grown to include shoes, hats, gloves, stockings, and intimate apparel. Lady Amelia and Valentina’s encouragement couldn’t entirely take the blame for the multitude of purchases. Fiona’s weakness for beautiful things had played a large part. Once she had been so sure she would never accept Richard’s charity, but now she would be his wife. A countess.

Was it all some dream that would vanish tomorrow?

Chapter Twenty-Three