Chapter Thirteen
With a brave little shake of her head, Amsonia shimmied up the back of his foreleg and found an indentation just between his wings that was big enough to lie in. Her body and arms outstretched, she rested her cheek against Qavox’s back. “I’m ready!” she called, and the dragon took flight.
—The Dragon and the Blue Star by Analise Crewe
Later that afternoon at the modiste’s shop, Ana barely recognized the woman she saw in the glass.
She lifted the skirts of the simple, elegant white muslin gown, turning this way and that, admiring her reflection.
Green silk trim around the neckline and waist glowed like a polished apple in the light from the high glass atrium of the dressmaker’s shop.
“Oh, miss, it’s so lovely. You look like a princess,” Tessie said, clasping her hands together.
“I’ve achieved quite the transformation,” Madame Fontaine, the dressmaker agreed. “The color of the silk trim is perfect for bringing out the green in your eyes and for highlighting the gold in your hair. When the duke sees you in this, Miss Crewe . . .” She smiled saucily.
“He’ll think that I’m an investment and he’d better have a handsome return in the form of several marriage proposals from eligible gentlemen.”
“He’ll be thinking he wants to take a bite out of you,” the dressmaker said, her smile widening.
“What an odd thing to say.” Ana wondered whether she should use that line in her book.
Madame Fontaine tugged the bodice down an inch. “You’ll understand my meaning soon enough.” She pinned the fabric in place. “You don’t have much but what you do have is now accentuated to perfection.”
“Oh, Miss Crewe,” Tessie said, running to the shop window. “I see my old friend Elsie. Might I go and speak with her?”
“Of course. I’ll be quite safe with Madame Fontaine. And Lady Glynis will be back any moment from her tea.”
“Won’t Elsie just die to see me wearing this smart maid’s uniform. I won’t be long.” Tessie ran merrily for the door.
The dressmaker lifted the gown over Ana’s head, careful not scratch her with the pins.
“I must make the final adjustments. It won’t take but a moment. Stay behind the screen and I’ll be back with the gown shortly.”
Outside, the bustle of London. Hackneys carrying fares vying with private phaetons and carriages for room on the street, people streaming endlessly past the brightly lettered shop windows.
The clop of horses’ hooves, the call of vendors, the whole of the city thrumming with life.
Ana shivered in her thin shift. It felt odd and exciting to be so exposed, just a wall separating her from the hub of all activity.
The bell above the shop door tinkled. The shop assistant answered the door and Ana heard deep tones.
Another customer in the shop, a male one!
Ana looked around wildly for something to take cover in, her imagination painting a shocking scene—the visitor, throwing open the door.
Ana, in next to nothing at all, caught like a frightened doe in the hunter’s sight.
Where was her pelisse? She’d removed it in the antechamber at the request of Madame Fontaine, who had wanted to see her complexion before choosing more fabrics, draping it over the back of the chair.
With, it occurred to Ana suddenly, her most precious possession still in the pocket!
Her mother’s emerald necklace, one of the last links she had to her past. The clasp had come undone during the carriage ride to the club, and she’d slipped it into her pocket, fearing it was broken.
“Madame Fontaine,” she whispered loudly.
There was no answer. The pelisse was blue velvet, lined with real fur, an expensive garment that any common thief would be happy to run off with.
She couldn’t chance having it stolen and losing her mother’s necklace again. How could she have been so careless?
She could still hear voices from the front room, the deep male tones briefly following the higher-pitched chatter of the shopkeeper.
The door between the antechamber and the front room was slightly ajar, giving whoever was out there a clear view of the sumptuous pelisse if they were to glance in that direction.
What if he was criminally inclined? She could see it so clearly: this shady new arrival directing Madam Fontaine’s attention toward a bolt of velvet high on the shelf, the shopkeeper climbing the ladder to retrieve it, the thief running through the door, gathering up the pelisse with one quick hand, then dashing out to the street.
She must retrieve it from the chair and close the door, else it and the necklace would be gone for good.
Ana cautiously ducked out from the screen.
Her pelisse was still hanging on the back of the chair.
She darted over and grabbed it but just as she was going to make her exit, the voices grew louder—the shopgirl was bringing the customer into the room.
Ana fairly flew back to the screen, crouching behind it and muffling her excited breathing with her fist.
“I’ll leave you here, Your Grace. I’m sure your ward will be finished with her fitting momentarily and will join you here.”
“Thank you.”
Gruff, growling tones. Warburton! Why was he here?
He mustn’t find her here in this state! She could sense him standing across the room, hear him drumming his fingers impatiently on a nearby tabletop.
Then stop. Silence. Then footsteps coming closer to the screen.
He’d sensed her, damn his preternaturally observant self!
“Hello? Who’s there?”
She squeezed her eyes closed and accepted her fate. “It’s Ana, Your Grace.”
“Miss Crewe? Why are you hiding behind this screen?” He sounded equal parts exasperated and amused.
Slowly, heat burning her cheeks, she summoned all the dignity she could muster and poked her head around the side of the screen.
“I heard a customer come into the shop. My mother’s necklace was in the pocket of my pelisse, hanging on that chair.
I thought you were a thief! I was going to retrieve my pelisse and save the jewelry. ”
“In nothing but a shift?”
“The dressmaker hadn’t returned with my dress yet. What was I to do?”
“Call for the shopgirl and ask her to retrieve your pelisse?” the duke asked, eyebrows raised.
“I guess I . . . didn’t think of that.”
“Where is Aunt Glynis and your maid?”
“They had errands to run and friends to greet. They’ll be back any moment.”
“Then you’d better stay behind the screen before someone catches us like this.”
“Why are you here?”
“To return this, which was conveniently forgotten at the club.” He crossed the room, holding her fan in his outstretched arm.
She was suddenly aware of the scant material of her shift, the way the air in the room was making her flesh prickle and her hairs stand on end. The air . . . or his presence.
“Thank you. I can’t think how it slipped from my grasp.”
“You wanted a pretext to visit again. I know what you’re doing, Miss Crewe. I’m on to you. You require a chaperone at all times,” he said gruffly. “There’s no question.”
The bell tinkled again. “Oh, I’d better go back behind the screen.”
Two ladies had entered the shop. They hadn’t seen them yet.
“We can’t be seen together with you in this state.
Hide!” He grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her behind the dressing screen.
He barely fit in the small space. He flattened against the wall and pulled her toward him, her backside against his front.
He snaked an arm around her waist to hold her in place.
There wasn’t even enough space for Ana to drape the pelisse around her shoulders to cover herself.
“Your Grace—”
“Shhh.” His large hand closed over her mouth. “Don’t make a sound.”