Page 59 of Echo in the Wind

Catching another glimpse of him in the mirror, she wondered if it had been his intention to turn her into a mass of quivering flesh.

Be he pirate or nobleman, Donet was a virile man, confident in his appeal. She was no simpering debutante, but she was unschooled and untried in the ways of a man with a woman. And this was no ordinary man she could banter with and then ignore.

Like the mighty sea he sailed, Donet was a force to be reckoned with, and she was inexorably drawn to him.

Madame Provot began pinning in the waist. Flavie, having returned, knelt at Joanna’s feet to pin up the hem.

The bodice fit perfectly, revealing only the edge of her rounded breasts. Joanna held still, not wishing to be stuck with an errant pin.

“There.” The modiste stood back, hands on her hips, assessing the temporary adjustments she had made. “What do you think, Capitaine? Is she not lovely in this gown?”

Joanna looked in the mirror seeing the slow smile spread across the comte’s face. “Lady Joanna is lovely in any gown. Even in breeches, she draws a man’s eye.”

“Just as I thought,” said the modiste, shooting Donet a look that only made his smile broaden.

Joanna felt heat rise in her cheeks. She thought back over their encounters since she had first met him at the reception, those times when he had been most polite. Had he looked at her then the way he did now? She had been so worried for her sister’s virtue, had she failed to see her own was at risk?

Madame Provot began unlacing the gown. “Now for the measurements.”

Joanna held the gown to her. “Monsieur Donet, you cannot stay for this!”

He shrugged and got to his feet. “I could and Noëlle would not object if I did. But since you do, I will wait outside.” As he turned to go, she breathed a sigh of relief. He may have seen her naked when treating her wound, but she had not been conscious then.

“Thank you.”

He gave her a parting look before slipping through the door.

The modiste let the gown fall and Joanna stepped out of it, leaving her in stays, a single petticoat and shift. Madame Provot then began measuring her. “The Capitaine is a most attractive man, n’est-ce pas?”

How could Joanna fail to admit to another woman what none could deny? “He is.”

“Many women in Lorient desire him but, until now, he has held himself apart from all. You are très unique.”

“He didn’t really have a choice except to bring me. I was unconscious and bleeding on his deck.”

“Ah, oui, the wound. He mentioned it. He was most concerned I not impair your healing. You must tell me if any of the garments I give you are too tight.” The modiste slipped the tape around her waist. “You are slender and your waist is small enough without having to cinch you in. The only place you possess true fullness is in the one place men desire to see more flesh.”

“If that was a compliment, Madame, I thank you, though truly I had nothing to do with it. My mother was the same.”

“Your mother no longer lives?”

“She died two years ago and my father five years before that.” Joanna did not mention her older brother who died last year. The four siblings did not often speak of Wills. They all missed him terribly.

“Then you and the capitaine have that in common, Mademoiselle. Both of his parents are dead.”

“Is that how he came into the title?”

“Non.” The modiste took the last measurement and looked up at her. “He had an older brother, Henri. Both he and the capitaine’s father were killed not long ago in a terrible carriage accident.”

“How awful to lose them like that.”

“They were not close, but the capitaine will have to tell you the story.”

The modiste walked to the back room door, opened it and called for another assistant. A woman in a mobcap poked her head in the opening. “I need some silk fabric,” said Madame Provot. “Some of that sapphire and a length of the gold. The emerald brocade and lemon yellow silk with embroidered edges will do nicely as well. Capitaine Donet will be having more silk delivered this afternoon.”

The girl left for the antechamber. Once Flavie returned with the green gown, she and the modiste helped Joanna to dress.

Standing back to view her creation, Madame Provot exclaimed, “C’est parfait!