Dare To Love (13 page)

“Madame LeFleur, so nice to see you again,”
Katrina voiced, striding into the Parisian parlor putting on heirs.
“Is my gown ready?”

“Oui Mademoiselle,” she voiced, “Are you
ready for a fitting?”

“That is why I am here.”

Gwendolyn waited for Katrina to introduce
her, but Katrina only snubbed her presence, and through squinted
eyes Gwendolyn watched Katrina stroll into another section of the
parlor.

Madame LeFleur clapped her hands a couple of
times and several ladies in waiting came to her side. She shouted
at them in French and each one of them darted towards a different
area of the shop. She turned towards Gwendolyn and raked in her
appearance; focusing on her unique hair…it was a deep
reddish-brown, similar to hers when she was younger. The young
woman was absolutely divine with soulful doe shaped eyes and pink
lips. Did she come with Lady Hale? No, Lady Hale would not be
caught dead parading around town with a woman more striking than
she. Then who was this lovely woman? “Allow me to introduce myself,
I am Madame LeFleur. What may I help you with Mademoiselle…?”

Gwendolyn began taking off her gloves and
bonnet, “Drummond,” she covered herself, “It is nice to meet your
acquaintance. Undergarments?”

Madame LeFleur gave Gwendolyn a syrupy smile.
“Tous vêtements ici, everything here. Muslin braces; morning fichu;
crinoline dresses; corsets; chemisette with frills even leather
shoes.”

“Splendid.”

“Would you like me to set up an account?”

“Oh—no, I will settle everything today, thank
you.”

“Very well, I have several dresses already
completed that you would quite like.”

Gwendolyn caught Thomas strangely pacing in
front of the store windows in the corner of her eye. She slowly
went to the casement and watched him pace back and forth, forth and
back, contemplating whatever; funny to see him scratching his head,
mumbling to himself, and waiving his hands up in the air. “You are
too kind Madame, but I am looking for a ball gown...something
different.”

Madame LeFleur looked intently at Gwendolyn
staring outside the window. She turned to look at whom she was
gaping at and noticed the Duke of Norwin on the other side. “Ah—to
catch the eye of a certain gentlemen, perhaps?” She probed.

Gwendolyn laughed and then looked away,
“Yes...”

Outside, striding up and down the footpath,
Thomas weighed his uncertainty. Strange, outlandish thoughts ran
through his noble principle. Gwendolyn wanted nothing from him?
Why, that’s absurd. He even offered her more than he contemplated
giving her. Unbelievable that she rejected the offer, with no hint
of emotion. Damn her! Why was she always so hard to figure out? All
that he had now was once hers and she doesn’t even long for part of
it? She wants nothing, needs zilch…and what was this “we”
business?

Madame LeFleur bowed her chin and said
brashly, “I have the perfect dress.” She clapped her hands again
and quickly directed a maid in French and the maid disappeared
behind a curtain. To Gwendolyn’s surprise, Thomas came through the
door, and greeted Madame LeFleur with pleasantries.

“Bonjour, Your Grace, it is so nice to see
you again. Votre belle fiancée is in the back, attempting the most
sensational dress...the one you had made for her.”

Gwendolyn continued to pretend she did not
notice him standing there. Thomas imagined she was not there either
and addressed Madame LeFleur.

Madame LeFleur raised her eyebrow in
suspicion as the duo purposely tried to sidestep one another.

“Oui, bon, mais cela est pourquoi je ne suis
pas ici,” he voiced, moving away from Gwendolyn’s hearing
distance.

Gwendolyn whipped her head around and eyed
Thomas without hesitation. That’s not why he is here? Then why is
he here? And when did he finish learning French? His intelligence
took her by surprise.

A maid who presented a delightful lustring
grey dress with white ruffles encasing its neckline and bodice
suddenly distracted Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn nodded to the maid that
she wanted to try it on and the maid escorted her to a dressing
room.

“Alors s’il vous plait, Your Grace, why are
you here?” Madame LeFleur asked with enticement.

“I will settle Lady…Miss…her,” he voiced
under his normal tone pointing at Gwendolyn’s egress, “Account
Madame, make sure she obtains everything she needs.”

Madame LeFleur looked at him with
restriction, “Oui, Your Grace, it seems Mademoiselle is in need of
a ball gown...something unique, she asks.”

Thomas noted the woman’s directness.
“Unique?”

“Oui,” Madame LeFleur repeated, studying his
curious posture and apprehensive movement.

“Madame LeFleur, remember that gown that I
wished for my fiancée last month, the one that she refused to
wear?”

She knew immediately what he was speaking of,
“Oui, the emerald one? Classic, Venetian splendor, a magnificent
gown, cette robe?”

“Yes, the dark green, that one.”

“Oui, it is still here.”

“I wish to purchase it for the woman, make
sure she does not leave without it.”

Madame LeFleur was taken back and tsked at
him, “Your Grace, why you are worse than most Frenchmen I know.
Homme honteux, shame on you—procuring a dress for your mistress,
while your betrothed is in the other room dressing.”

Thomas noted the indifference in her
accusatory tone, “Madame LeFleur,” he said assuredly, “There is but
one person I allow to address me in such an impudent manner and she
is in the other room. As for my acquaintance with that woman, she
is not my mistress nor will she ever be...she is my family, and I
will take care of her,” he remarked, puffing up with further
disdain. “Now, if you wish for me to withdraw my account from your
establishment, please state so accordingly, comprenez-vous?”

Madame LeFleur nodded her head and curtsied
low. “Oui, Monsieur.”

“I expect to see the emerald dress in her
purchase, good day Madame,” Thomas pronounced, placing his hat back
on his head just before he left.

Gwendolyn came out moments later, brushing
down the elegant grey lustring dress. She was admiring herself in
the mirrors when a blur of cream satin took her focus. She did it
on purpose; Gwendolyn realized as she turned around and eyed
Katrina wearing her wedding dress. Breath taking was all Gwendolyn
thought. Absolutely, awe inspiring…and oh so devious.

On Romantic lines, the dress had a standing
pleated ruff, with a train of lace extending several feet. With
bands of ribbons decorating her waistline, shirt and sleeves, the
front neckline was draped in muslin with hundreds of eye-catching
pearls dotting the bodice.

Gwendolyn immediately glanced away and felt
Katrina’s presence at her neck. “Thomas had the satin imported from
India. The lace was imported from Holland, and my headpiece was
made in Spain. Thomas made sure that I was the most beautiful
bride,” she quietly voiced in her hair, “And ordered all new gowns
for me on our honeymoon voyage to the West Indies.”

Spiteful, spiteful girl, Gwendolyn thought,
swallowing the urge to rip off that dress. “Thomas has good taste
in costumes.”

“He never loved you, he told me so.”

A direct bite; her toxin, sedating her
throbbing heart. Gwendolyn bit down on her lower lip, “It does not
matter—I never cared for him either.”

“He is mine and will always been mine, and no
one, not even a former—” Katrina held in her maliciousness until
Madame LeFleur was out of hearing distance, “Dalliance of his can
take him away. Because that’s all you really were to him. Thomas
requires more from a woman than just reciprocal friendship, he
needs a warm body to embrace him in the dark…touch and hold him in
return. He is very lustful, my Tommy, and appreciates a woman’s
body and how it feels next to his.”

“Enough—”

“Last evening when he took me to bed, he
overwhelmed me with his passion, by God, the man is gifted—I could
hardly keep up. Thomas requires warmth, not words.”

Gwendolyn lifted up her jaw, and with every
possible piece of dignity she had remaining, she voiced, “If you
are fond of your tongue, Katrina, I would watch what I say.”

“Are you threatening me? Why you meager girl,
you no longer hold importance to him.”

Gwendolyn withheld her misery. “To look at
you on the outside Katrina, you are a vision of perfection, but to
know you on the inside, you are nothing but a heartless parasite
and one day you’ll get your comeuppance.” Gwendolyn ran around
Katrina’s venomous form and bumped right smack into Madame
LeFleur.

“Mademoiselle, why are you crying?” She
asked, holding Gwendolyn by the shoulders and soaking in her
sadness.

“You have such beautiful dresses here Madame
LeFleur,” Gwendolyn lied, wiping her tears away, “I am crying with
joy because I cannot wait to take them back home with me.”

“You are leaving soon?”

“Yes, the sooner, the better,” Gwendolyn
uttered, bowing her head.

“Then I will have your purchases packed for
you at once.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gwendolyn head up to the far east tower of
Gisleham Manor where she was always able to see Wilderbrand from
its window sill. Sitting on the casement ledge, Gwendolyn rolled up
in a ball and started to weep. He’s alive and he’s still drifting
away…

Her restraint from seeing him daily took over
in a stubborn way. She didn’t know how to deal with the fact that
her authentic consortium was to be kept concealed, while his second
marriage to Katrina was to be rejoiced. Having never been jealous
of another woman before, she resented Katrina for being able to
prepare for their upcoming wedding, which meant Katrina was able to
see Thomas. Oh! Gwendolyn hated feeling like this…this persistent
tug at her heart. What she wouldn’t give to have just a little
piece of his attention! So many years of longing for their close
friendship, she wanted to continue on with it, not move it aside.
It was like he was purposely avoiding her and each and every time
she heard he was away; her heart broke just a little bit more
because of it. She hated leaving Thomas without an explanation
yesterday, having taken a separate carriage in return to
Wilderbrand. She did not see him at supper that night and he was
off again this morning.

“Malady, I have never seen you cry so much,”
Phyllis quietly voiced, arriving up next to Gwendolyn. She looked
out of the window and saw the tower of Wilderbrand beyond in the
distance. “A fortunate girl like you shouldn’t have to weep for
substance when she has the universe a plenty.”

Gwendolyn began to laugh and wiped away her
tears, “Are you speaking about Charles?”

“And a fine man he is Gwendolyn,” Phyllis
agreed patting Gwendolyn’s hand. “Why, we’ve been here no more than
five days, and His Grace has shown nothing but common courtesy to
you.”

“He is avoiding me,” Gwendolyn sneezed into
her skirts. “There is something different about Thomas now,” she
reasoned, turning to look at the tower again. “It seems I cannot
detain him longer than five minutes to detect it.”

“Why don’t you talk a walk in the sunshine
maybe that will make you feel better? Being in this house only
makes you grieve.”

Gwendolyn touched her friend’s face with
admiration, “You are absolutely right Phyllis and I will go take a
walk in the sun.”

Odd how just a few days ago she was at the
same lake, melancholy for the attachment she had with a boy, when
at present, she had been awarded a glorious gift to continue the
connection with the man.

Stopping at the water’s edge, Gwendolyn
suddenly was taken over with memories of her and Thomas as
children. Diving into the water from the oak tree’s ridge, daring
each other to see who could swim the lake the fastest, burying
treasure by the shore’s grassy rim. Buried treasure? She recalled
excitedly.

Gwendolyn instantly looked down and tried to
remember the last time she was there. Her and Thomas were playing
shipwrecked buccaneers and decided to bury her mother’s jewelry
chest. Oh yes, the jewelry chest! Feeling energized all of a
sudden, Gwendolyn roamed the surface, trying to recall where the
box had lied. Kicking off her slippers, she ran aimlessly all over
the grass speculating its location. After several mind-boggling
minutes of trying to find the container’s mystery position,
Gwendolyn finally gave up and threw her hands up in the air,
surrendering to the abolished mission.

“I believe it is over there.”

Gwendolyn turned around and felt her heart
drop, the vista of the man subtracting a mouthful of air. A frilly
white loose shirt, buckskin pantaloons tucked into leather riding
boots never looked so well on a male before. Feeling the saliva
deserting her mouth, Gwendolyn blushed and turned away. “Oh?” She
barely got out, licking her bottom lip. “For some reason, I thought
we buried the chest closer to the water.”

Thomas shuffled through the wheat grass and
headed straight for her. Passing her to some extent, he surveyed
the ground and the stability of the dirt. “As I recall, the lake
was extensive then. The water level has gone down tremendously. The
oak tree used to be by the water’s rim, remember?” He said,
pointing to the massive milestone. “We used to dive from that
branch there into the deep end. We could not do that now, we’d hit
solid ground.”