Page 28 of Eloping With The Princess
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Isabel said.
“No trouble. The girls will take care of any other customers.” And as if she’d summoned them, three women came through the back of the shop. Madame Angelique gave them orders, then turned to Jason. “I shall take excellent care of your bride, monsieur.”
Jason had the distinct feeling he was being dismissed. He wouldn’t even pretend to be offended. He’d already arranged for his mother and Suzanne to come and assist Isabel. But Isabel’s eyes were wide, and he wouldn’t leave her while she was so obviously uncomfortable.
“My mother is coming to join you,” he told Isabel. “I shall wait until she arrives.”
Madame Angelique nodded. “Very well, monsieur, you may wait over there.” She motioned to a small seating area across the room.
It was none too soon because one of the other girls came up with several filmy undergarments. It took very little imagination for him to envision the garments on Isabel. Jason’s hands itched, and he longed to run his fingers over the silky fabrics, to remove them from her graceful shoulders, allow the gossamer fabric to pool at her feet.
He moved out of the way, careful to avoid touching any of the alluring material. How had he even gotten himself into such a mess?
…
Jason disappeared into the sea of fabric, and Isabel was whisked away to an area behind a large screen. Madame Angelique’s assistant began working on the buttons at the back of Isabel’s dress, and before she’d fully comprehended what was happening, she stood before the two women in nothing but her stays, chemise, and pantalets. Then the measuring started. She vaguely remembered having this done once before when she’d first come to London, but the details were foggy, as if she’d been watching it from the outside rather than experiencing it herself. She’d been but a small girl then.
The women spoke with each other, mostly in French, and the assistant disappeared outside the screens several times, each time returning with another armload of fabrics. Madame Angelique made furious notes inside a tiny black leather notebook that Isabel suspected would be highly coveted by other dressmakers in London, if she were, in fact, the best, as Jason had said. It was obvious that this petite woman was quite serious about her work and would not be outdone by anyone else.
The two Frenchwomen put a dress on her, and it had barely brushed against her shoulders when Madame Angelique said something abrupt and the dress was quickly removed. They did the same with two others.
They had just put a fourth dress on her when Isabel heard the deep timbre of Jason’s voice. His mother had arrived. Her mother now, she reminded herself. The two dressmakers walked Isabel out into the main part of the shop and guided her up onto a pedestal so that Madame Angelique could adjust the dress. She began pinning the fabric immediately.
Jason and his mother entered the dressing room. Jason sauntered over, and Isabel’s heart thundered. He was so handsome. She sucked in a breath, surprised by her reaction to his mere presence. His intense blue eyes met her gaze. “Isabel, I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of these ladies. I have a meeting I need to attend. Mother, spare no expense on my lovely bride.”
“Of course not,” his mother said. “We have ladies’ work to do. Now off with you.” She waved her hands dismissively, but it didn’t stop him from bending and placing a kiss on her cheek. Isabel felt a pang of jealousy that he could be so free with his affection with others, but with her, he seemed completely closed off.
Isabel wanted to ask him to stay, not to leave her here with these women who were practically strangers, but the truth was, she didn’t really know him, either. Although she felt as if she’d known him for quite a while. Her life, as it turned out, had been flipped upside down. But her new reality allowed her the honor of protecting the queen.
Jason was right. Eyes would be upon her very quickly, with the newspaper story about the long-lost princess surviving and now her nuptials with Viscount Ellis. Everyone would be looking at her. She would not embarrass Jason’s good name.
“I shall leave you to it,” he said.
Isabel watched him go. His broad shoulders perfectly encased in his expertly tailored coat. He was a fine gentleman. Her fine gentleman. Well, in name only.
Jason’s mother also disappeared from view, leaving Isabel momentarily alone on the pedestal. The bell at the front door rang. Isabel waited to hear Jason’s mother. Instead she heard unfamiliar ladies’ voices.
“He is so dashing,” one girl said, with an exaggerated giggle.
“But you know it is rumored he has vowed to never marry,” another girl replied.
Isabel craned her neck and peered into the mirror to see if she could see the women’s reflections, but to no avail. Were they talking about Jason?
“All of the handsome gentlemen say that, and then they meet the woman to bring them to their knees.”
“I suppose you believe yourself to be that woman to bring Viscount Ellis to his knees?” the other girl asked with a snort.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” the first girl asked. “I’m the granddaughter of a duke. And Lady Falcon declared my manners the most refined and genteel of our Season. And”—she dropped her voice to a whisper that still wasn’t soft enough to hide her smugness—“you know my dowry is substantial. I am as perfect for him as any girl he’s ever likely to meet.”
The other girl never answered, or at least if she did, Isabel did not hear her as they’d moved to a different part of the shop. Even though Isabel couldn’t hear them any longer, her heart thundered with panic. So, those were the qualities expected of Jason’s wife. Connections, breeding, refined manners, and, of course, money. Not to mention impeccable taste in fashion. She supposed she had the breeding; after all, she was a princess. She had connections to no one of importance. Her boarding school manners were unlikely to be described as refined or genteel. As for money, she had absolutely none.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known she was outclassed. That was the one thing her schooling had prepared her for. But hearing it outlined so clearly was disheartening.
Before Isabel could step down from the pedestal, Jason’s mother was standing behind her. Isabel’s new mother-in-law, like her son, was perfectly presentable, with a lovely blue-and-gold striped dress that Isabel suspected was at the height of fashion. It wasn’t any wonder that Jason had brought her here to purchase new clothes. He must have thought her barely a step above a street urchin.
“Now then, where were we?” his mother asked.
Madame Angelique rounded the corner and rattled off a list of garments Isabel had been measured for.
