Free Regency Wagers by Diane Gaston Page B

elegantly.
    He pulled Madeleine along to the private dressing room in the back. ‘The young lady is in somewhat of a fix. You see, she has only the dress she wears and we were hopeful to purchase something already made up.’
    Understanding lit the woman’s eyes. ‘Let me see her.’
    Since Madeleine was acting like a stick, Devlin had no choice but to treat her that way. He turned her toward the dressmaker and removed the cloak that obscured her.
    ‘Oh,’ said the woman in surprise. ‘Miss M, is it not? How delightful to see you again.’
    ‘How do you do, ma’am,’ Madeleine murmured politely, though Devlin did not miss the splotches of red on her cheeks.
    ‘Deuce,’ said Devlin.
    ‘Why, I believe I have a dress ready for you,’ said Madame Emeraude helpfully. ‘Do you recall we fitted it not a fortnight ago? Wait a moment and I shall see—’
    ‘No!’ Madeleine cried.
    Devlin interceded, putting his arm around Madeleine. ‘We do not wish that dress.’
    Madame Emeraude looked from the one of them to the other. ‘I see. It is a new day, is it not? Well, I am pleased foryou, miss. That other one was charming, but I shall have no business with him, I tell you, until he pays—’ She caught herself. ‘I beg pardon. I only meant I wish you well, Miss M.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Madeleine said, continuing to look miserable.
    Madame Emeraude smiled and began to consider her, stepping around her. ‘Oh, my,’ she said as she saw the open laces of Madeleine’s dress. ‘This dress does not fit. No, no, no. This will never, never do.’
    ‘You see our predicament.’ Devlin smiled. Madeleine fixed her interest on the floor.
    ‘Let me show you a few things I have on hand.’
    Madame Emeraude signalled an assistant, who carried in one dress after another. Madeleine seemed to regard each garment with horror. They were, Devlin thought, merely dresses. A little fancy, perhaps.
    As Madame conferred with her assistant, Madeleine whispered to him, ‘Devlin, please do not make me wear those dresses. This one I have will do, or Sophie can make me a plain one.’
    ‘What is wrong with them?’
    ‘They are not…respectable.’
    He regarded her, rubbing his chin. ‘I see.’
    When Madame Emeraude came back to them, Devlin took the woman aside and spoke to her. Madeleine watched them, the modiste nodding and looking her way. She dearly wished to leave this place where the proprietress knew her as Miss M.
    Devlin came back to her. ‘Madame Emeraude is ordering a hack. She has given me the direction of another dressmaker where we will go next.’ He held her cloak open for her. ‘I do not wish to. Let us go home, please.’ This short excursion had already been mortifying.
    ‘We will try this other place first. You need clothes, Maddy.’
    In the hack she continued trying to persuade him. ‘I believeSophie could teach me to sew, Devlin. A piece of cloth would be enough.’
    He would not listen. He did not understand. Though it was exciting to be out among the carriages and shops, it was frightening, as well. She would always be face to face with what she was.
    Madeleine peeked out at the passing scenery, the bustle of London with the pedestrians so intent on their destinations and the tradesmen so occupied with peddling wares. She could not hide forever. How could she rear Linette if she hid? Her daughter would have to go out into that world, too. She was determined that Linette’s life be respectable, though nothing could ever change what Madeleine was inside.
    If Devlin Steele was determined she should have clothes, she was determined they be respectable ones.
    ‘Are you taking me to Bond Street?’ she asked, meaning to sound merely curious, but her voice shook.
    He smiled at her. ‘Not to Bond Street. We are directed to a modiste who dresses the worthy daughters of our bankers and merchants.’
    ‘Very well.’ Not the fashionable part of town. No chance of encountering members of the ton .
    They discovered a