Masquerading the Marquess (7 page)

Whatever Calliope had expected, this was not it. The shop looked like a storm had been unleashed inside. Bolts of cloth, sketches and measuring implements were strewn about, and several half-finished dresses lay discarded on the floor near a back room. Three harried girls scurried around trying to tidy the endless mess.

"Ah, Monsieur Chalmers, so nice to see you."

Stephen took the hand of a tall, severely dressed woman with upswept hair. "Madame Giselle, your beauty is a light in these dark times."

"Bah, I am not one of those half-wit females you like to chase. Hurry and tell me what you want. The Duchess of Kent was here today, and she thinks she runs the country already. It was a trying enough day ministering to her whims with-

out
you and your empty flattery."

Calliope noticed Madame Giselle smoothed her hair and skirt during her caustic reply.

"Madame, I have brought you one of the half-wits." Stephen winked at Calliope. "I wonder if you might have one or two suitable outfits."

Ah, so it was his charm that would win the day. For a moment she had entertained the notion that he had some secret hanging over the seamstress’s head. Stephen did some sort of intelligence work for the government, although she hadn’t been able to piece together exactly what that entailed.

Madame Giselle’s attention shifted to Calliope. She stared at her for a long moment and then circled her, making Calliope feel rather like a rack of beef being inspected. She filed the visual for future use.
One caricature idea already.
Maybe this trip would pay for itself.

"Yes, I do believe I might have a gown or two for her."

Madame Giselle stared intently. Calliope was sure something had gone unsaid, but she had no idea what it was.

The shop door opened. Madame Giselle’s eyes moved past Calliope and lit up. Her hand rose to smooth her hair again, repeating the movement twice this time. Calliope turned to see who had caused the reaction.

Angelford stood in the door looking directly at her, a rakish top hat perched on his head. He maintained eye contact as he removed it.

"Lord Angelford, please come in."

Calliope managed to keep her mouth from gaping at the sweetness in Madame Giselle’s voice.

This was the woman half of
London
feared and the other half groveled at any chance to curry her favor?

"Giselle, I couldn’t stay away. You have the best pastries in all of
England
."

The woman blushed. She actually blushed. The amused irritation caused by Stephen’s flattery escalated into a simmer over Angelford’s.

"Two of my favorite men.
Give me Roth and I’d have the trio complete. Come with me."

She hustled them to the back room and issued sharp commands to the girls to serve tea and cakes.

"I must do a fitting, but please enjoy the refreshments in the interim. What do you require, my lord?"

"A lemon day dress, hold the ornamentals."

Madame Giselle nodded briskly. "It will be delivered tomorrow."

Angelford nodded and helped the gawking assistant with the tea tray before her excited hands could pour it all over him.

Calliope grimaced. Angelford ordering dresses for his mistress was obviously a common occurrence. Madame Giselle hadn’t needed a dress size or even a particularly good description of the gown.

" Corinne
, come with me. We shall fit Esmerelda."

Calliope blinked. How had the woman known her name?

Stephen waved in dismissal and grabbed a cake. Angelford lifted a cup of tea and watched her.

Giselle ushered her into the fitting area, where Corinne helped Calliope out of her gown. Stripped to her shift, Calliope stood waiting.

Madame Giselle studied her, lips pursed and one finger tapping her lips.
"Corinne, the peacock satin.
Quickly."

Corinne ran from the room.

"I think we will try darker colors first, yes?" Madame Giselle didn’t wait for a response. She turned to the doorway. "Corinne, hurry
. "

A shadow filled the doorway and Calliope tried to will Corinne to move faster. It was chilly standing nearly naked.

It was not Corinne in the doorway. Calliope’s first instinct was to throw her hands in front of her, but obstinacy prevailed and she maintained her stance, jutting her chin forward.

"My lord, you are not allowed in here."
 
Madame Giselle was frowning.

Angelford didn’t seem to notice. His gaze lazily scanned Calliope from head to toe, lighting each spot on fire as his eyes dropped. "Try not to spend Stephen’s money all in one spot, love."

She placed her hands on her hips. "It’s not
Stephens
money that you have to worry about being spent. Good day, my lord."

He doffed his hat, smiled and turned. Madame Giselle followed him out. Calliope ran her fingers down the shift as if to lengthen it. She tried to cool her body and mind. He was turning her into a bawdy actress.

Madame Giselle returned, pushing Corinne in front of her. "Please excuse the intrusion, mademoiselle. I don’t know what his lordship was thinking."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of pins, fabric, designs and fittings. Calliope was forced to select eveningwear, undergarments and riding-habits as well as the requested day dresses. Madame Giselle was adamant she could only gain a sense of a woman’s style by looking at every facet of her dress. Calliope finally relaxed and allowed some of her own taste to show through by making suggestions and recommendations.

Calliope decided on a morning dress in vibrant blue and a day dress in deep green. They would suit her courtesan’s persona. A bolt of pale violet blue caught her eye.

"I would like the two in the forms we discussed. In addition I would like the violet blue in the classic style, something simple." She couldn’t resist the one indulgence for herself, not Esmerelda.

Madame Giselle gave her a measuring look.
"Of course, mademoiselle."

"If you could send them to my address, I would be most appreciative.
And the bill as well."

"As mademoiselle wishes."

"Thank you, Madame Giselle. Your taste is exquisite and I appreciate the time you have taken with me."

A startled look crossed Madame Giselle’s face, quickly replaced with the measuring look. "It has been a pleasure, mademoiselle. I look forward to finishing more garments for you."

There would be no chance of that, but Calliope nodded.

To her relief Stephen was waiting alone.

"Once more you have made wonderful cakes, Giselle. If you could send ten of each type, words would fail to express my gratitude,
" he
said.

"For you, anything.
But I would have made the cakes without your sponsorship. The ingredients were enough."

Stephen nodded and kissed her hand. Calliope knew she had missed something again, but all of the poking and prodding, standing up and sifting through designs she would never be able to afford, had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

Stephen escorted Calliope from the shop and handed her into his curricle as the tiger jumped on the back. "Would you like to attend the races this weekend?"

She looked at him in surprise. "I would love to
. "

"Wonderful. We will meet James and Stella there."

It was too late to back out, but she could feel her lips twist. "Wonderful," she repeated sourly.

He ignored her sarcasm and pulled into traffic. "Madame Giselle should have at least one of the gowns ready for you tomorrow
. "

Calliope bounced up the steps to the plain brick townhouse. Sketching in the park was revitalizing. The door was immediately opened and she stepped into the warm, inviting interior. It was like stepping into a forest.
Stephen and his plants.
Who would have guessed he had a green thumb? An emerald thumb, really. Flora inhabited every section of the house. She had heard more than one maid grumble about living in a jungle.

She placed her sketchpad on the hall table and handed her pelisse to Stephen’s butler, Grimmond, currently on loan to her for a few weeks.

Stephen had inherited the small brick townhouse from an uncle. Since his primary residence was more suited to his needs, he used the smaller townhouse to store and display his numerous and assorted collections. A rudimentary staff managed the house, but - when it was decided Esmerelda needed a place of her own, the unused townhouse had been the easiest solution. Stephen had put his own butler in charge of imposing order and making a smooth transition. A new staff and inexperienced mistress of the household could be a disastrous combination.

"Miss Daly is in your room, and Mr. Chalmers is in the library. A few parcels arrived from Madame Giselle’s an hour ago," Grimmond said in his dry, haughty manner. Calliope wanted to tease the man. He was quite nice when he thought no one was looking, but the presence of two footmen necessitated a display of superiority. She had learned she would receive raised eyebrows and a flat look if she tried anything in front of others.

"Thank you, Grimmond."

Calliope ascended the stairs to see Deirdre first. Bless Madame Giselle, and for more than just the dresses. Adjusting to her new home had been difficult. Calliope had finally gotten a decent night’s sleep thanks to Madame Giselle and her army of marauding Huns. She had been so exhausted she c0uldn’t remember anything past placing her head on the still-unfamiliar pillow.

She entered her room. Clothing littered every surface.

"Where did all of this come from?
Dee
, did you raid the costumes?"

"One of the girls from Madame Giselle’s brought them. There are ten dresses here. It’s a good thing we are similar in size, because I plan on borrowing quite a few of these."

"There must be some mistake. I ordered three gowns."

"The girl said they were paid in full and the other dresses would be arriving within the week. She wouldn’t even accept money for delivering them."

"But who?

"

Deirdre wasn’t paying any attention. She held up garments for inspection. "Did you order these on two different days? The styles are nearly opposite. "

Calliope looked at the two dresses she held aloft. One had obviously been made for Esmerelda, the other for Calliope.
A well-executed plan.

"And look at this riding habit. Is Stephen going to teach you to ride?"

"Excuse me for a moment,
Dee
. "

Calliope headed down to the library, her favorite room in her new home. Stephen reclined in front of the fireplace reading. A potted fern sat next to him on the floor. The leaves were oddly shaped, which labeled the plant as one of his experiments.
 

He looked up from the book. "I heard some of your new garments arrived. How do they look?"

"I can’t believe you did this."

"You don’t like them?"

"They’re lovely. That’s not the point. I only needed the three gowns." She could only afford the three gowns.