Free The Birthright by T. Davis Bunn

my!”
    Nicole stood slowly with the garment in hand. It was a full-length gown of finest satin. The bodice and body were a brilliant blue that shimmered in the softening sunlight. The half sleeves and flounced shoulders were decorated with tiny flowers sewn with gold thread. This same floral pattern traced its way down both sides, broadening to become glowing gardens about the wide hem. The dress possessed a swooping décolletage, kept to a fitting modesty by a sheath of white silk that buttoned around the neck and was embroidered with sky blue flowers to match the hem.
    Emily bent over the chest and retrieved the note that had dropped from the dress when Nicole unfolded it. She read it aloud. “ ‘My dear Nicole, in hopes that you shall deign to join me in England, I have taken the liberty of ordering up a few items to help with your journey. You will find a viscountess-to-be is expected to dress the part, even on board a ship. I do hope they are of a proper fit. Yours ever, Charles.’”
    “I cannot wear this,” Nicole murmured.
    Emily’s gaze shifted from the dress to the young woman and back. “Whyever not?”
    “Because until last summer, all my clothes were homespun! Until I was thirteen, my only shoes were deerskin moccasins sewn together by my father.”
    “But you just said you did not meet your father till this very year.”
    “I mean my French father.” Nicole dropped her arms, bunching the dress together at her waist. “Whatever am I to do?”
    For some reason, Nicole’s distress brought a cheerful light to Emily’s face. “A veritable tonic,” she repeated.

Chapter 7
    Emily Madden insisted they not take in the air on the quarterdeck as was customary, while the great room was being fitted for the evening meal. Instead, she retired with Nicole in the captain’s bedchamber, in what was now to be their sleeping quarters. There she helped Nicole unpack and stow her meager belongings and inspect the rest of Charles’s gifts. Everything they unpacked brought soft cries of delight from Emily, who said she wanted to “keep the prize a secret” for the moment. Emily’s excitement was enough to ease even Nicole’s pall of worry.
    The chest contained two more dresses: a cotton-and-silk frock of delicate coral and a heavier, more wintry affair of midnight blue. There was also a shawl of wool, so soft Emily continued to stroke it long after they had put it aside. Below the shawl sat three pairs of kidskin shoes, one for each of the dresses. Though the shoes were a tight fit, the leather was soft enough that, with the tiny gold buckles fastened at the widest position, Nicole felt she could manage. And manage would be all she could do, for she felt as though perched on a tower with a hard wooden base. The shoes had a “fashionable tilt,” as Emily explained, with underpinnings of proper calf and cork. All Nicole knew was that they were positively the strangest things she had ever worn.
    But that was before Emily ordered her into the dress. Emily had already dressed and then helped Nicole pin her hair into something she said befitted a young lady attending the master’s table. There was only a tiny hand mirror in the cabin, yet what little Nicole could see of herself and her new hair left her decidedly uncomfortable, particularly after Emily discovered the paper-wrapped bundle of satin ribbons—two for each dress. Emily tied the ribbons into her hair with the bows dangling down over one shoulder.
    Finally, there was nothing more to unpack, nor any excuse to prevent her from fitting into the dress that lay on the bed as if taunting her. The noises from the other room pressed her, as did Emily’s frequent glances at the pocket watch now lying beside the dress. So Nicole admitted defeat and raised her hands, thereby allowing Emily to slip the dress up and over her head.
    Emily helped her do up the buttons at the back, took as far a step away as the cramped cabin allowed, then whispered, “Turn