Page 1 of Devil in Her Details

Chapter One

There were few things more satisfying than fitting a nobleman into a pair of floral stays he would sooner die than admit he owned. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Lady Lilly Trenton, very-nearly-disgraced sister to the current Duke of Kingsleigh, found equal pleasure in fitting a woman in the perfect set of breeches.

And she excelled at both.

“I cannot believe the corset came out so well.”

“It’s not finished yet,” Lilly murmured to her customer, countess, savior, and friend, Lady Allison Ward, Allie, who had traveled all the way from London to commission the piece for her husband, who had lost a wager against Allie. She stepped around the padded male form of a torso perched on a stand, adjusting the half-finished flower-patterned corset where the fresh measurements required amendment.

“But it should be done soon, shouldn’t it?” Allie asked.

Lilly nodded. “In another two days, you can bring your husband in for the fitting.” She’d learned, in the few short years of accepting commission from the male species, whether through their wives or themselves, men did not enjoy being prodded at for scandalous unmentionables, so those were best kept to a minimum. Which was also why Lilly had commissioned these stands in various shapes and sizes. In fact, her whole backroom was filled with them, including bolts of fabric in sober tones and daring shades alike. Not even to mention upstairs, which she used for storage as well.

“Good, good,” her friend murmured, the excitement in her voice palpable.

“Unless you prefer me to come to your lodgings?”

Allie waved a dismissive hand. “No need. This is part of the fun.”

Lilly smiled. Fun to torture your husband, you mean. “How are things in London? Any noteworthy gossip?”

Allie arched a brow. “Do you mean about your situation? You can ask freely. After all, I’ve already caught you in the most compromising position. Or have you forgotten that part?”

Lilly pulled a face. How could she forget? “Unfortunately, it’s branded into my memories. You cannot understand my gratitude for the fact that you caught me. If it had been anyone else, I’d have been labeled the biggest trollop in London.”

Allie’s eyes crinkled at the corners before she laughed outright. “Well, you were on your knees before a man—”

“A fully clothed one.”

“—in a guest bedchamber alone.”

“He dropped his pocket watch.” Hindsight . . . “A lapse of judgment on my part.” Honestly, that night must have been the biggest lapse of her life. She’d been charmed by the Marquess of Calvington to take his measurements for a shirt.

Lilly sighed.

She ought to have considered the man’s circle—or rather, the absence of one—since he had never been admitted into the trusted sphere she maintained with the utmost care. Discretion, after all, was the backbone of her little hobby. But she’d been swayed by his claim of being recommended by her brother, an assertion backed by Calvington’s knowledge that she always carried a measuring tape on her person. That aside, she should never have allowed him to coax her into taking his measurements at a ball in full swing.

And for a shirt, for stars’ sake!

And that blasted pocket watch.

The warning signs had not been subtle. But too late, she had discovered a very calculated marriage trap. And she had stepped neatly into its beckoning grasp. Fortunately, Allie had noticed her departure and, guided by a more accurate sixth sense, followed. That still hadn’t stopped Calvington from attempting to force the matter of marriage or Lilly resisting, vehemently, to the fury of the marquess.

So here she was.

In Brighton.

For the past three months.

Having opened a milliner’s shop with the support of her brother, Carlisle. Perhaps the best choice of her life so far. Brighton’s air here was certainly fresher than London’s suffocating drawing rooms, and the cries of seagulls replaced Calvington’s whines. Though quite frankly, to her, they still sounded the same! Seagulls were simply less annoying.

“Will you return to London once the gossip dies down?” Allie asked expectantly. “You are sorely missed, my friend.”

Would she?

Lilly hadn’t yet considered future possibilities. Annoyances always disappear with time. A woman’s good name, however, once tarnished, never recovered its former polish. Hers could hardly be considered ruined, but Calvington had been spouting so much nonsense that people had started to whisper. Not that she cared much about the opinions of others—she had long been exasperated with the ton at large. And after several ladies had exposed the betting book at White’s, she found herself far less inclined to value the ton’s approval.

What would be would be.