Chapter 24 #2
Camelia squeezed Pamela’s free arm. “Pamela, don’t mind her. We’re not even at the seamstress’s yet, and you’re hounding already. Iris, help me rein in our sister.”
Pamela held her own, but Camelia knew how overwhelming Margaret could be.
Iris laughed quietly, nudging her. “You and I both know that there’s no hope for Margaret. Pamela, don’t worry. We’ll find you a gown fit for a birthday princess. Blue lace sounds perfect, doesn’t it, Camelia?”
“I agree, blue lace would be nice.” Camelia and Iris linked arms and walked behind the younger girls.
“Pamela, what’s something you’re nervous about for your sixteenth birthday? It’s a big moment. Any fears you want to share?”
Leave it to Margaret to ask odd questions.
“I… I guess I fear tripping over my own dress in front of the guests. Everyone will laugh.”
Margaret gasped, her voice dramatic. “Tripping? That’s nonsense! You’ll glide like a swan, like you are now. And if anyone laughs, I’ll trip them myself. Right, Camelia?”
“You got that right, Margaret. No one’s mocking this girl on our watch!”
“And especially under the Duke’s watch,” Margaret added.
Camelia still couldn’t believe that Raph let them out on their own. She looked around the marketplace, wondering if she’d catch a glimpse of him. Her skin prickled at the thought of him protecting them even then.
“Pamela, you’ll have us there, and you won’t trip. You’re too graceful, like you were with the horses in the stables.”
“You think I’m graceful? Really?”
“Of course!” Camelia said confidently.
Iris nodded in agreement, her voice warm. “You’ve got a natural poise that we all struggled to get right when we entered Society.”
All the sisters mumbled in agreement, causing Pamela to blush profusely.
“Now, come on, let’s get to Madame Lefèvre’s shop before Margaret starts designing your gown herself.” Camelia led the way.
They wove through the marketplace until they arrived at Madame Lefèvre’s quaint shop, its windows displaying bolts of silk and lace. The French seamstress, a petite woman with sharp eyes, greeted them with a warm smile.
“Bonjour, mesdames! Welcome to my atelier.” Her gaze lingered on Pamela.
“Madame Lefèvre, how long has it been?” Camelia asked warmly.
“Ah! Camelia darling, how I have missed you bringing your sisters here almost daily.” Madame Lefèvre air-kissed Camelia’s and her sister’s cheeks, but when her gaze landed on Pamela, her brow furrowed slightly. “She looks so familiar. Those eyes, that face… where have I seen them before?”
Camelia stepped forward and proudly introduced her. “This is Pamela, the Duke of Brentmere’s daughter. She’s turning sixteen soon, and we’re here to buy a gown that makes her shine on her special day. I want her to feel like royalty on her birthday.”
Madame Lefèvre nodded, but her eyes stayed on Pamela, curious and searching. “The Duke’s daughter… oui, of course. But you look so familiar, ma chère, as if I met you years ago, or someone who looks like you.” She tilted her head, studying Pamela’s features.
Pamela shifted and lowered her gaze. “Me? I… I don’t think so. I’ve never been here before.”
Camelia’s smile was reassuring, though her mind raced. “She’s familiar, Madame?”
“Oui.” Madame Lefèvre squinted at Pamela.
Could it be Pamela’s mother? Or her real father?
“Perhaps it’s just her charm, Madame,” Camelia said lightly. “Pamela has a way of leaving an impression. Now, about her gown. She wants a blue lace dress, and I’d like something bold for a ball I’m attending tonight.”
Margaret clapped her hands in excitement. “Bold for Camelia? Oh, please say crimson! You’d set the ballroom ablaze! Pamela, what do you think? Red for your stepmother?”
Pamela giggled, her voice gaining strength. “Red? Yes! It’d look… fierce. Like you, Camelia.”
“Pamela, you’re learning fast. But I’m voting for emerald green for Camelia; it’ll make the Duke’s eyes pop out with adoration,” Iris piped up.
“Emerald’s good, but crimson’s bolder. Pamela, you’re the tiebreaker. What’s it going to be?” Margaret grinned, nudging Pamela, who looked at Camelia helplessly.
“I warned you that they argue.” Camelia shrugged. “Crimson, then! But only if Pamela gets the blue lace gown. Deal?”
“It’s a deal!” Margaret responded.
Madame Lefèvre went to work immediately. She bustled about her shop, pulling gowns and bolts of fabric, her voice animated. “Crimson silk for the Duchess, blue lace for Mademoiselle Pamela—oh, it will be magnifique! And for you, Mesdames Iris and Margaret, perhaps ivory and sapphire?”
Margaret squealed delightfully. “Yes, please, Madame. Sapphire would look ravishing on my skin!”
They spent an hour choosing their gowns and fabrics. Pamela’s confidence grew as she spent more time with the girls. She picked a delicate blue lace overlay for her gown, and Camelia selected a crimson silk that hugged her waist perfectly and flowed around her like a blooming rose.
She imagined Raph’s reaction. He’d probably want to tear it off her, and she would enjoy it.
As they were measured, Madame Lefèvre’s gaze lingered on Pamela, but she said no more. Camelia wanted to ask what she knew or if she knew anything, but Raph’s warning to behave rang in her ears.
“You’re a delight, Pamela. I cannot wait to shop with you again for your debut.” Iris winked at Pamela.
They stood at the shop door, exchanging goodbyes, and Camelia imagined Raph waiting for them at the manor, his arms crossed over his chest in that brooding way of his and his foot tapping impatiently.
Margaret squeezed Pamela’s hand and announced dramatically, “You’re my new favorite friend, Pamela. Practice that bold voice; you’ll need it.” She leaned closer to her. “Especially with these men later in life,” she whispered conspiratorially.
Pamela beamed at them. “I like you both so much. I hope I can speak like you someday, Margaret.”
Camelia’s heart warmed. “You’ll find your voice, Pamela, and it’ll be all your own.”
She placed a hand on Pamela’s shoulder as they all said goodbye and went their separate ways.
When they reached the manor, she was surprised not to find Raph waiting for them.
He trusted us, after all.