Page 10 of Winter's Waltz
The sharpness of irritation tinged her voice, reminding him she had been gracious enough to pay this call and he must not ignore her.
He flicked his gaze to the modiste, then back to Miss Winter. “Itisimportant. Miss Winter, if you wish to attract a clientele from the upper echelons of high society, you cannot go traipsing about in trousers and men’s boots.”
“Why should they give a damn what I wear?” demanded Miss Winter, indignant.
Rose sighed. “Mademoiselle Winter, as a modiste, if I were to wear rags mosthideuse, do you suppose anyone would have confidence in my abilities?”
Miss Winter frowned. “What’s being dressed as a mollisher got to do with my ability to run a gaming establishment for ladies?”
A mollisher and a ladybird.Christ, if only the exasperating woman understood how expensive and sought-after Rose’s designs were. But then, it was just as likely she would not give a damn.
“If you truly wish to attract ladies, you need to look like one, not just to speak like one, my dear,” he intervened. “That is what Madame Derosiers is attempting to explain, and that is why I begged her to grace us with her presence and innate skill this morning.”
“Hmm.” Miss Winter gave him a guarded look. “I thought it was so you had an excuse to find your way into my room and ogle my bubbies.”
Hell.His face went hot. But he refused to believe there was a flush spreading over his cheekbones, as if he were a virginal lad.
Rose made a strangled sound. “I am afraid I must go. You will keep what I have brought you,oui, Mademoiselle Winter? The ivory suits you. Pay me a call, and together we shall find a wardrobe fitting for you.”
Miss Winter did not appear enthused. “Who is paying for this? Blunderbury is in Bushy Park. He’ll not be affording it.”
“In Bushy Park?” Rose’s brow furrowed with confusion.
Max sighed, for he understood the flash Miss Winter had used. She was saying he was pockets to let. Which he was. “Madame Derosiers was kind enough to provide these to you,gratis.”
Because he had pleaded. And because she owed him.
It was a favor he could not call upon again.
Miss Winter frowned. “Gratis? Is that some sort of fancy lord’s word? And how much willthatlighten my bloody purse?”
Of course she would have no knowledge of Latin. Max was frightfully ignorant of just what a woman who had been born and raised in the rookerieswouldknow. Certainly, she would not have been raised to flourish at needlepoint or to pour a proper cup of tea. She would not have been coddled by a well-intentioned governess, and nor would she have been taught to speak other languages. Although her half brothers had married his sisters, Max’s interactions with Mr. Dominic Winter and Mr. Devil Winter had been relatively limited.
Likely in part because of Max’s admittedly disastrous problems. But he would not think of those just now.
“There is no cost, mademoiselle,” Rose saved him by reassuring Miss Winter. “I am pleased to see one of my designs gracing a lady so fitting. These few gowns were commissioned by another, you see, until she becameenceinte, necessitating new dresses and measurements.”
“I ain’t going to accept charity.” Miss Genevieve Winter was, as usual, terribly blunt.
Bordering on rude, in fact.
“I am not,” he corrected her. “Ain’t is not what a proper lady would say, Miss Winter.”
She sent him a scowl.
He wanted to kiss her.
By Hades, this latest scrape of Max’s was not going to end well. There was a growing portent of impending doom filling the hall.
Rose cleared her throat. “Think of this not as charity, mademoiselle. I wish for you to try my creations. I hope you shall find themacceptable. Together, we can create more gowns to suit you.”
The woman was a gem. Rose, that was. Not Miss Winter. Genevieve Winter was rather like a weapon. Sleek, beautiful, and dangerous. The wound on his chest throbbed then, as if in agreement, and so did his nose.
“I prefer trousers and boots, shirt and waistcoat.” Miss Winter frowned some more. “Send the cost, if you please. Should you insist on leaving these items behind, you must be recompensed.”
Max almost begged Rose to take the damned gown with her. Miss Winter was far too tempting in it. Like a confection he longed to devour. But he restrained himself. Instead, he offered to escort Rose to her carriage. The streets were not entirely safe on the edge of the East End, even at this morning hour. And he needed a few moments away from Miss Winter.
Moments during which he could hopefully tamp down the unwanted desire burning within him. The stubborn wench was still grumbling as Max escorted Rose below.
