Love Between the Lines (13 page)

This must be his manner
all the time in England except when he slept. She found she liked imagining him asleep. Did he toss around the way she did, or lie completely still on his bed?

The modiste was located on a quiet street in central London. The small dirty front door opened up to a well-maintained interior, all cream and powder blue with excellent lighting and thick soft carpets. She was greeted by a lady in a shimmering gray gown with lighter gray overlace. The effect was of an elegant, slender pigeon. “I am Madame Levour,” the pigeon announced in accentless English.

Lizzy
’s soft gasp upon entering must have told of her surprise.

“
The contrast of our exterior and interior is startling,” Madame Levour said. “But we do not need to advertise ourselves.”

If the few gowns on display had been scarlet or low-cut, Lizzy would have assumed Madame
’s trade consisted of outfitting men’s mistresses, but the gowns were as quietly fashionable as the room where they stood.

Four
ladies dressed in gray gowns pushed through the curtains. Two carried tape measures and pincushions. One had a number of ready-made gowns draped in her arms and the other carried a pile of fashion magazines.

They worked their way through the list Lizzy was stupid enough to show
Madame Levour—who must have been instructed to disregard Lizzy’s protests.

“
I don’t understand why I must buy new lady’s undergarments.”

Madame talked around the pins she held in her mouth as she pinned the plum
-colored walking skirt Lizzy tried on.

“
Your employer must have his reasons,” said Madame and Lizzy was grateful the dressmaker didn’t sneer despite the dubious circumstances. “Perhaps your employer understands that the lines of the gowns would be ruined if you wore the wrong garments underneath. Gowns are tight again this year. Very tight indeed.”

Lizzy balked again at the blue
-and-green ball gown. “I have no desire to stand out in any way.” She pointed at the very low-cut gown’s bodice. “This is far too low.”

“
Any higher and you’ll look absurd. You are young, or rather not ancient.”

“
What about the darker one over there?”

“
That gown was designed for a woman nearly fifty years old. Believe me, you will be lamb dressed as mutton.”

“
But a ball gown. Do I really need a—”

“
Yes.” Madame thrust a pair of full-length gloves at her. “And these too. Do not protest. I was told you’d be obstinate, but that is a mild word for you, Miss Drury.”

After three
hours, Lizzy ended up with orders for more clothes than she’d had since her coming out in New York, a brief, unmemorable event six years earlier. And even Lizzy, who was hardly any sort of expert, could see that her new wardrobe consisted of more finely made gowns and pieces. All of this for a deception—it made her uneasy again. The joy she’d felt at seeing herself in such gorgeous finery vanished.

The modiste wouldn
’t allow her to put on her own clothes.

“
My assistant has already made the proper adjustments on the navy blue walking gown and you’re to wear it home. My directions are to make sure you are properly dressed from the moment you leave here. That thing you came in wearing was entirely wrong for your coloring and figure. The navy is perfect. Wear it.”

Lizzy didn
’t bother protesting. Madame had a job and was determined to do it. Lizzy had to admire that sort of dedication. As long as the walking clothes didn’t hamper her movement or cause her to stand out in any way, she wouldn’t object to them.

After bidding madame good
-bye, she caught a hansom cab back to the newspaper office. She sank into the seat and stared out at the still unfamiliar city. The roads seemed entirely random after New York’s carefully laid blocks. For a moment, she longed for New York where she controlled her own fate and choices. She was more child than adult in this new situation. And then there was the stupid society articles she was to write.

Her unease wasn
’t only the ridiculous cost of the clothes and the feeling that she should pay for her own wardrobe. The other problem hadn’t gone away. It nagged at her still. Deception was part of her job and she even rather enjoyed acting. But in this case she wasn’t investigating institutions or corrupt public figures or even a good, basic crime. There was no real story, and she would be sniffing around the personal lives of these people to find one.

She
’d had to learn to take control of her life when she’d walked away from her father’s house. She’d do it again.

When she arrived at the office, she marched up the stairs and knocked at
Sir Gideon’s door.

Jenks, the
secretary in the reception area, got to his feet and bowed as if she was a lady. “Miss Tildon, how do you do? He’s busy at the moment, but he should be finished soon.”

She nodded and paced the small area
, obviously making Jenks nervous, so she sat.

T
he door to the office opened, and Lizzy started in at once. “Sir Gideon, I don’t think this assignment will work. Yes, I know I act the role of sneak when I follow stories. But under those circumstances, I’m looking for fires because someone has smelled smoke, sir. And…and…”

An extremely
pale young man stood behind Sir Gideon, who stopped her flow of words with a sharp “Miss Drury.” He didn’t sound pleased. “Good afternoon. May I present Lord Ernest.”

“
What was that about a fire?” Lord Ernest asked her. He was almost impossibly white. Even his eyelashes and eyebrows were pale. Not an albino, for his lank hair had some color in it and his eyes were a not entirely washed-out blue.

“
I beg your pardon.” She bobbed a curtsey. If her boss had introduced her as Drury, then this would be one of the people she’d be meeting later in that social circle of his. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“
Quite all right.” Sir Gideon had regained his sangfroid. “I’m always glad to see you, Miss Drury. Where is your chaperone? Downstairs, perhaps?”

C
haperone? He made a face and in the air quickly sketched the form of a female figure. She realized Sir Gideon didn’t mean Oyster.

The pale young man was adjusting his cravat and the collar of his jacket
, so he didn’t see the look of incredulous disgust she gave Sir Gideon. He hadn’t thought of that problem, had he?

“
You didn’t interrupt a thing, Miss, er, Thingummy,” Lord Earnest told her. “I think I’m done offering my congratulations.”

Lizzy looked from one to the other.
“Oh?”

He didn
’t explain and neither did Sir Gideon, so she hesitantly tried, “Should I be offering congratulations too? May I know why?”

Sir Gideon
stared at the floor, apparently suddenly lost in great thoughts and unable to hear.

Lord Ernest answered.
“On his upcoming nuptials. Sir Gideon is to be my brother-in-law. No public notice yet, of course. Brand new thingummy. But he’ll have a big spread in one of those rags of his.”

Marriage.

Dear God, she shouldn’t have felt like it was a punch to her gut. After all, everyone had been telling her he was practically engaged.

“
Your sister is Lady Edith. How lovely.” Her voice only quavered on the last few words.

Lord Earnest seemed to ponder the question.
“She is, rather.”

No one could seriously be that dim
, and she wondered if he was jesting with her.

She looked at
Sir Gideon, who still didn’t meet her eyes. “When is the happy event to take place?” she asked, all polite disinterest, and mentally patted herself on the back. She was a fine actress.

Sir Gideon
cleared his throat. “September.”

Lizzy wondered why he sounded angry. Was it to be a secret? Hardly the point of a society wedding.

“The little season,” Lord Ernest told her. “Not the best of all months, September. One wants June for weddings. But that’s not nearly enough time now, is it?” He raised his nearly invisible eyebrows as if awaiting her reply.

“
I suppose not,” she said. “Not if you are planning a large wedding.”

“
Exactly. That’s what m’sister says, and we all agree.”

“
Sir Gideon wanted the wedding sooner?”

The man in question
wouldn’t look at her, so he certainly wouldn’t answer her unspoken question: why. He gave an irritable shrug. “I have no strong opinions,” he said.

If they
’d been alone, Lizzy would have snickered at that remark.
No strong opinions, my eye,
she would have told him.
You have strong opinions about everything.
She managed a faint “ah.” This was none of her business, she reminded herself.

“
Well, good day to you both. I hope to see you again soon, Miss, er.” Lord Ernest gave a beautiful bow, low enough to show the perfect part on his scalp beneath his gleaming, well-oiled hair.

The door remained open.
Jenks the secretary shuffled past Lizzy to hand Sir Gideon a stack of papers several inches thick. “Messages, sir,” he said. “And as you requested, I’ve sorted the correspondence and this is the pile that requires immediate attention. Immediate, sir.”

Sir Gideon
took the pile in both hands and flapped it at Lizzy. “As you can see, Miss Drury, I’m exceptionally busy. Can this wait?”

“
Five minutes,” she promised. “Not a minute longer.”

Jenks gave her a dark look and left. She closed the door behind him.
Sir Gideon didn’t sit but instead threw the papers onto the huge, already messy desk. He turned to face her, leaning against the edge of the desk. “Well?”

She tilted her head
up, which was a mistake because her hat slid back a bit, pulling at her hair. She yanked out the hatpin, and threw hat and pin onto his desk. He eyed the hat and then her bare head. The scowl deepened.

She wished she could shake him or perhaps make some snide remark about his speedy engagement. Instead she glowered back at him.

“What did you want to see me about, Miss Drury?” He stared at her impatiently. She met his gaze and couldn’t remember why she was here. And then she recalled the nagging doubts that had only grown stronger in that dressmaker’s shop. She had another angle now. “Really, I have only one question. Would your fiancée approve?” she demanded.

He took a step back, wearing the guilty look of a child caught with crumbs around his mouth.
“Of what?” he said.

“
Of this scheme to have me sneak around society.”

He gave a short laugh.
“Oh,
that
.”

“
What did you think I meant?”

“
To be honest, I had no idea,” he said far too fast and even more annoyed.

And then she understood. The strange undercurrents she felt in his presence
—the feeling was mutual. He’d thought she was talking about attraction. He sensed the air tingle with too much awareness and, oh heavens, he was moving to her, his breath coming fast.

“
Oh hell,” he said and took another step closer. This was a signal she should back up. She didn’t. He was too close.

He put his hands o
n her shoulders and leaned in slowly. She’d been given the chance: slip away or slap him. And then his mouth was on hers, and he was giving her a sweet, light kiss.

His
mouth was gentle, undemanding but warm and persistent. She’d been kissed before but never so expertly and with such careful attention.

She opened her mouth to point out that
this
really would be something his fiancée would hate, and there was his tongue sliding in gently, and the taste of him. It made her greedy. She responded to his coaxing tastes of her and tilted her head so he might stroke deeper and, oh, so sweet…

Her own whimper brought her back to earth.

That was far too much. She stepped backwards. “No.”

“
Yes. I mean no,” he said, breathing so hard she had trouble understanding him. “You’re right. No.”

“
It’s been less than an hour. You cannot have already forgotten you’re engaged,” she said.

He seemed to notice his hands
rested on her shoulders and pulled them away at once. “Yes, yes. So I am. Yes.”

She rubbed the back of her hand over h
er lips, trying to stop her mouth from memorizing that kiss. More, her body demanded. “Why did you do that?” She felt angry at them both and miserably hot with the stupid hunger.

“
I apologize. I wasn’t thinking.”

“
I…I can’t work for you if you do that. Oh, this is terrible. It’s awful.”