Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 98
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
And then she was in her gown, which seemed to fit her perfectly. Madame Hebert looked pleased as Punch as she walked a slow circle around Callie, noting each minute detail of the gown. Satisfied, she met Callie’s wide-eyed gaze, and said, “Now, out into the fitting room and we shall have a closer look.”
Following the modiste back into the main room, Callie noted that Nastasia was still on her platform as Valerie worked to hem the red gown. Pushing aside the immediate sense of insecurity that consumed her, Callie stepped up to take her place on the empty second platform in the room. Madame Hebert gently turned her toward a large mirror placed nearby, and Callie’s eyes widened in surprise as she realized that she was the woman in the reflection. She shook her head. She’d never seen herself this way—thoroughly transformed from prim and plain to…well, quite remarkable.
Her br**sts were perfectly highlighted by the low cut of the gown, looking lush and full without appearing vulgar, the drape of the silk over her curving waist and hips and stomach made her appear well proportioned rather than too plump, and the color—the most lovely, shimmering blue she’d ever seen, gave her usually too-red skin the appearance of strawberries and cream.
A smile broke out on her face. Madame Hebert had been right. This was a dress made for waltzing. Callie couldn’t resist spinning in excitement toward the dressmaker. “Oh, it’s lovely, Madame.”
The modiste’s smile matched Callie’s. “Indeed. It is.” She tilted her head, looking critically at Callie’s reflection, and said, “It needs to be raised a touch in the skirt. Excuse me—I shall fetch a girl to help me pin.”
The Frenchwoman disappeared through a nearby door, and Callie looked back at her reflection, taking in the drape of the fabric, the lovely cut—so uniquely different from anything that was in London ballrooms at present, so perfectly suited to her unfashionable figure.
“Hebert is a genius, is she not?”
Callie’s eyes flew to the looking glass, where she met a pair of probing violet eyes, doubly reflected in their mirrors. With a small, polite smile, she said, quietly, “She certainly is.”
Nastasia’s eyes flickered to Valerie’s reflection, and she watched as the girl pinned a section of her hem before saying casually, “Ralston has always liked her work.”
Callie looked away at the words, uncertain. She’d never spoken to someone’s mistress before. Certainly not to the mistress of the man she loved.
Nastasia pressed on, sounding bored. “You do not have to shy away from me, Lady Calpurnia. We are not girls, just out of the schoolroom, but women, yes? I know he is with you, now. It is the way of the world, my dear.”
Callie shook her head, her mouth falling open in shock. “He isn’t…with me.”
The opera singer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are you really going to tell me that Ralston hasn’t seduced you?”
Callie blushed, looking away again, and Nastasia laughed. The sound wasn’t mean-spirited, as Callie would have expected, but entertained. “You didn’t expect him to do it, did you? But I shall wager you enjoyed every minute of it. Ralston is a rare breed of man…one who cares more for his lovers than for himself.” Callie’s cheeks flamed as the Greek woman pressed on, frank. “I have had many lovers…and only one other who was as generous as Ralston. You are lucky he was your first.”
Callie thought she might perish from embarrassment right there. On the spot.
“May I offer you a piece of advice?”
Callie’s head snapped up, and she watched the raven-haired beauty in the mirror. Nastasia was no longer looking at her, but instead off through a large window through which the afternoon sun poured into the fitting room. After several long moments of silence, Callie’s curiosity got the better of her. “Please.”
Nastasia spoke, the words coming from far away. “When I was eighteen, I met the first of those men. Dimitri was generous and kind and a remarkable lover…everything I had dreamed of…everything I hadn’t known I longed for. It was inevitable that I fell in love with him. And it was a love that surpassed anything I’d ever known…anything I’d ever heard of—mythic in its proportions. He was the only man I would ever love.” She paused, sadness passing over her face so quickly that Callie was not entirely certain it had been there to begin with. “But he could not love me in return. The capacity for that kind of emotion…it was not in him. And, so, instead, he broke my heart.”
Tears sprang to Callie’s eyes, unbidden, at the sadness of the other woman’s story. She couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What happened?”
Nastasia gave a small, elegant shrug. “I left Greece. And my voice carried the day.”
Valerie stood, finished with her task, and Nastasia seemed to return from far away. Her eyes cleared as she inspected the young woman’s work in the mirror. “Ralston is your Dimitri. Guard your heart well.”
There was a pregnant pause as the two women each considered their own reflections. “If you could do it again…would you have taken him without love?” Callie blurted out the question, regretting it as soon as the words were spoken.
Nastasia thought for a long moment, her face a portrait of sadness. When her eyes met Callie’s in the mirror, they were liquid with emotion. “No,” she whispered. “I loved him too much for it to be one-sided.”
Callie brushed away an errant tear as Madame Hebert returned, apprentice in tow, unaware of the conversation that had taken place. Nastasia turned her head to the dressmaker. “Lady Calpurnia’s gown is beautiful,” she said, “I should like one of the same fabric.”
Following the modiste back into the main room, Callie noted that Nastasia was still on her platform as Valerie worked to hem the red gown. Pushing aside the immediate sense of insecurity that consumed her, Callie stepped up to take her place on the empty second platform in the room. Madame Hebert gently turned her toward a large mirror placed nearby, and Callie’s eyes widened in surprise as she realized that she was the woman in the reflection. She shook her head. She’d never seen herself this way—thoroughly transformed from prim and plain to…well, quite remarkable.
Her br**sts were perfectly highlighted by the low cut of the gown, looking lush and full without appearing vulgar, the drape of the silk over her curving waist and hips and stomach made her appear well proportioned rather than too plump, and the color—the most lovely, shimmering blue she’d ever seen, gave her usually too-red skin the appearance of strawberries and cream.
A smile broke out on her face. Madame Hebert had been right. This was a dress made for waltzing. Callie couldn’t resist spinning in excitement toward the dressmaker. “Oh, it’s lovely, Madame.”
The modiste’s smile matched Callie’s. “Indeed. It is.” She tilted her head, looking critically at Callie’s reflection, and said, “It needs to be raised a touch in the skirt. Excuse me—I shall fetch a girl to help me pin.”
The Frenchwoman disappeared through a nearby door, and Callie looked back at her reflection, taking in the drape of the fabric, the lovely cut—so uniquely different from anything that was in London ballrooms at present, so perfectly suited to her unfashionable figure.
“Hebert is a genius, is she not?”
Callie’s eyes flew to the looking glass, where she met a pair of probing violet eyes, doubly reflected in their mirrors. With a small, polite smile, she said, quietly, “She certainly is.”
Nastasia’s eyes flickered to Valerie’s reflection, and she watched as the girl pinned a section of her hem before saying casually, “Ralston has always liked her work.”
Callie looked away at the words, uncertain. She’d never spoken to someone’s mistress before. Certainly not to the mistress of the man she loved.
Nastasia pressed on, sounding bored. “You do not have to shy away from me, Lady Calpurnia. We are not girls, just out of the schoolroom, but women, yes? I know he is with you, now. It is the way of the world, my dear.”
Callie shook her head, her mouth falling open in shock. “He isn’t…with me.”
The opera singer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are you really going to tell me that Ralston hasn’t seduced you?”
Callie blushed, looking away again, and Nastasia laughed. The sound wasn’t mean-spirited, as Callie would have expected, but entertained. “You didn’t expect him to do it, did you? But I shall wager you enjoyed every minute of it. Ralston is a rare breed of man…one who cares more for his lovers than for himself.” Callie’s cheeks flamed as the Greek woman pressed on, frank. “I have had many lovers…and only one other who was as generous as Ralston. You are lucky he was your first.”
Callie thought she might perish from embarrassment right there. On the spot.
“May I offer you a piece of advice?”
Callie’s head snapped up, and she watched the raven-haired beauty in the mirror. Nastasia was no longer looking at her, but instead off through a large window through which the afternoon sun poured into the fitting room. After several long moments of silence, Callie’s curiosity got the better of her. “Please.”
Nastasia spoke, the words coming from far away. “When I was eighteen, I met the first of those men. Dimitri was generous and kind and a remarkable lover…everything I had dreamed of…everything I hadn’t known I longed for. It was inevitable that I fell in love with him. And it was a love that surpassed anything I’d ever known…anything I’d ever heard of—mythic in its proportions. He was the only man I would ever love.” She paused, sadness passing over her face so quickly that Callie was not entirely certain it had been there to begin with. “But he could not love me in return. The capacity for that kind of emotion…it was not in him. And, so, instead, he broke my heart.”
Tears sprang to Callie’s eyes, unbidden, at the sadness of the other woman’s story. She couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What happened?”
Nastasia gave a small, elegant shrug. “I left Greece. And my voice carried the day.”
Valerie stood, finished with her task, and Nastasia seemed to return from far away. Her eyes cleared as she inspected the young woman’s work in the mirror. “Ralston is your Dimitri. Guard your heart well.”
There was a pregnant pause as the two women each considered their own reflections. “If you could do it again…would you have taken him without love?” Callie blurted out the question, regretting it as soon as the words were spoken.
Nastasia thought for a long moment, her face a portrait of sadness. When her eyes met Callie’s in the mirror, they were liquid with emotion. “No,” she whispered. “I loved him too much for it to be one-sided.”
Callie brushed away an errant tear as Madame Hebert returned, apprentice in tow, unaware of the conversation that had taken place. Nastasia turned her head to the dressmaker. “Lady Calpurnia’s gown is beautiful,” she said, “I should like one of the same fabric.”
