Free Celine by Kathleen Bittner Roth Page B

mouth. “Oh, that woman is something, I’ll tell you.” Her gaze connected with Celine’s through the mirror. Her pursed lips contained a sly smile. “That woman wasn’t even half Mister Beaudrée’s age.”
    She wound the last section of hair, pinned the curl in place, and removing the pins from her mouth, patted the sides of Celine’s head. “There now, let’s see to your gown.”
    Celine stepped over to the full-length cheval mirror and removed her robe.
    â€œIf you ask me,” Marie continued while she dressed Celine, “she was only after his money, because she doesn’t seem too put out now there’s no man around. No ma’am. Soon’s poor Mister Beaudrée was in the ground, she started spendin’ his money like the world wouldn’t see another Sunday.”
    â€œIs she attractive?”
    â€œWell—” She drew out the word, savoring it like sweet chocolate on her tongue. “I suppose she’s pretty enough. But she knows it, and that kills any hope the woman has of impressin’ most people. Doesn’t dress much like a widow, neither. Even the frock she wore to Mr. Beaudrée’s funeral was cut so low you could spy her toes when she bent over. And believe me, she managed a lot of bendin’ that day.”
    Marie grinned wide through the mirror at Celine. And then she giggled.
    Oh, dear. Celine wouldn’t dare laugh along with Marie.
    She simply couldn’t.
    She did.
    â€œYou were there?”
    Marie was all teeth and sparkling eyes as she nodded. “Hold still, mam’selle. With all your fidgeting, I’ve had to do these corset laces three times. I know the truth of which I speak, because there was a crowd here followin’ the funeral. Zola was fit to be tied having to prepare anything on behalf of that woman. Mrs. Beaudrée spent her entire stay crying in her hanky, with the men putting their arms around her and saying, ‘There, there. Don’t be weepin’ so.’ And all the while they was gawkin’ right down the front of her.” She winked. “Right to her toes.”
    Celine laughed harder. “So, she’s pretty enough, then.”
    Marie carried Celine’s gown over to her. “Oh, she’s pretty, all right. Well shaped in the body, too. But she goes and ruins it by that look she always has about her.”
    â€œWhat look?”
    â€œLike she’s just waitin’ for someone to be givin’ her a poke right ’tween her legs.”
    Celine’s jaw dropped. “Marie!” And then she guffawed at the maid’s frankness.
    â€œShe is nowhere near as lovely as you, though, mam’selle.” Marie patted a bow on the gown’s puffed sleeve, a gesture indicating the toilette was complete.
    â€œThere you go. Ravissante. ”
    â€œThank you for the kind compliment, Marie, but I hardly think I am ravishing.”
    â€œ Mais oui . Look in the mirror.”
    Celine made a pirouette in front of the looking glass. She stepped closer and paused to study the deep turquoise moiré silk gown with a bateau neckline cut so low she wondered if she dared bend over lest someone see her toes. The bodice fit tightly down to her hips, accenting every curve before billowing out to the floor. A string of pearls snaked through the shining curls piled atop her head. “Oh, the gown is beautiful, isn’t it?”
    Lindsey’s knock sounded at the door. He flushed when the door opened and he spied Celine. “You are . . . well, you are breathtaking.”
    She slipped her hand over his elbow and bid Marie a good evening.
    Cameron called out from below when the two descended the stairs. “And I am supposed to escort my cousin while little Lindsey gets you? Unfair, I say.”
    She met him at the bottom and held her gloved hand to him for his perfunctory kiss.
    â€œAt least may I have the honor of riding in the same carriage,