![Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 03]](https://fs.ageofbook.com/627051/thumbs/152x264/celeste-bradley-heiress-brides-03.jpg)
word to his valet in secret . . .”
Sophie smiled. “That would be perfect!”
Fortescue gazed at her in unconcealed surprise for a long moment. Then he shook off his inexplicable moment. “Ah . . . yes, miss. I can also confirm his plans this evening with his valet, who, I’m sure can be counted on to pass along a recommendation to attend the masque.”
“My goodness, that’s a useful channel of communication!” Sophie nearly danced to the stairs. “Tell him to be on time,” she sang. “And tell him not to bring Lady Lilah Christie!”
Chapter Nine
Graham stalked out of Brook House, furious and frustrated once again, and strode unseeing down the gracious streets of Mayfair. What the blazes was Sophie up to? Did she think he had nothing better to do than to wait on her whims? Didn’t she know that he—enjoyed her? Enjoyed her company, yes. She was quite entertaining underneath that drab, bluestocking exterior. Damn it, he missed—
He missed the company, that was all. Cards and conversation and . . .
Snapping gray eyes, seeing him for the fool he was. The soft rope of her marmalade hair tight in his fist. Easy laughter, bright warmth, drawling irony that never ceased to surprise him into laughter . . .
Bloody hell
.
THE GOWN FROM Lementeur wasn’t lovely. It wasn’t stunning.
It was
magical
.
Lementeur had told her that he’d been inspired byTitania, Queen of the fairies—and Sophie wondered if Titania herself had waved her wand and bestowed the dressmaker with powers beyond the rule!
It was truly a miraculous creation, an enchanted gown, a shimmering, graceful fantasy of silk of the palest green somehow shot with tints of shimmering lavender.
The tiny sleeves, dropped off her shoulders, were really nothing more than loops of pearly beads. She strongly suspected that they were real, not glass, but dared not ask for fear she might be right—and then she would not have the nerve to wear it!
Also, Lementeur had done something suspicious to her corset, for surely she’d not been so endowed by nature! Yet the burgeoning creamy flesh that swelled above her neckline was all her own—a mystery indeed! Twisted strands of the pearls crisscrossed over and between her small high breasts, outlining and emphasizing them.
The bodice was high and tight, but just below it the skirts were draped and slung in a fashion reminiscent of a toga worn by a Grecian goddess. Sophie wasn’t quite sure why but the entire effect gave her curves where she’d thought she had none, and lent statuesque grandeur to her height. Fortunately for Lementeur’s persistent lessons, there was no possibility of slumping in the gown. The merest sag of her shoulders caused the bodice to simply cut off her breath. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose.
Probably.
The muted iridescent colors made her skin gleam like polished ivory and her hair glow with brighter firethan if she’d worn more brilliant shades. And Patricia had washed something into her hair—it had smelled green and herbal—that put a cinnamon blaze into the reddish blond. What had once fallen unmanageable and untrimmed about her face was now cropped into dainty bangs that coiled all on their own, with the rest piled high and smooth to give her even more elegant height. Inches of hair had come off, but Patricia had assured her she could spare it.
She turned to look at herself over her shoulder. From beneath each exposed shoulder blade fell a frothing swath of silvery-white organza so fine one could read through it. When she moved even the slightest bit, they sailed lightly out behind her like a pair of gossamer wings.
Patricia was working more strands of the pearls into the woven pile of her hair.
“Are you sure we ought to have cut it?”
Patricia grinned at her in the mirror. “Bit late to doubt it, miss!”
Then the maid came down off her tiptoes and stepped back. With a sigh of dreamy satisfaction, she clasped her hands before her. “The fairy king
Sophie smiled. “That would be perfect!”
Fortescue gazed at her in unconcealed surprise for a long moment. Then he shook off his inexplicable moment. “Ah . . . yes, miss. I can also confirm his plans this evening with his valet, who, I’m sure can be counted on to pass along a recommendation to attend the masque.”
“My goodness, that’s a useful channel of communication!” Sophie nearly danced to the stairs. “Tell him to be on time,” she sang. “And tell him not to bring Lady Lilah Christie!”
Chapter Nine
Graham stalked out of Brook House, furious and frustrated once again, and strode unseeing down the gracious streets of Mayfair. What the blazes was Sophie up to? Did she think he had nothing better to do than to wait on her whims? Didn’t she know that he—enjoyed her? Enjoyed her company, yes. She was quite entertaining underneath that drab, bluestocking exterior. Damn it, he missed—
He missed the company, that was all. Cards and conversation and . . .
Snapping gray eyes, seeing him for the fool he was. The soft rope of her marmalade hair tight in his fist. Easy laughter, bright warmth, drawling irony that never ceased to surprise him into laughter . . .
Bloody hell
.
THE GOWN FROM Lementeur wasn’t lovely. It wasn’t stunning.
It was
magical
.
Lementeur had told her that he’d been inspired byTitania, Queen of the fairies—and Sophie wondered if Titania herself had waved her wand and bestowed the dressmaker with powers beyond the rule!
It was truly a miraculous creation, an enchanted gown, a shimmering, graceful fantasy of silk of the palest green somehow shot with tints of shimmering lavender.
The tiny sleeves, dropped off her shoulders, were really nothing more than loops of pearly beads. She strongly suspected that they were real, not glass, but dared not ask for fear she might be right—and then she would not have the nerve to wear it!
Also, Lementeur had done something suspicious to her corset, for surely she’d not been so endowed by nature! Yet the burgeoning creamy flesh that swelled above her neckline was all her own—a mystery indeed! Twisted strands of the pearls crisscrossed over and between her small high breasts, outlining and emphasizing them.
The bodice was high and tight, but just below it the skirts were draped and slung in a fashion reminiscent of a toga worn by a Grecian goddess. Sophie wasn’t quite sure why but the entire effect gave her curves where she’d thought she had none, and lent statuesque grandeur to her height. Fortunately for Lementeur’s persistent lessons, there was no possibility of slumping in the gown. The merest sag of her shoulders caused the bodice to simply cut off her breath. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose.
Probably.
The muted iridescent colors made her skin gleam like polished ivory and her hair glow with brighter firethan if she’d worn more brilliant shades. And Patricia had washed something into her hair—it had smelled green and herbal—that put a cinnamon blaze into the reddish blond. What had once fallen unmanageable and untrimmed about her face was now cropped into dainty bangs that coiled all on their own, with the rest piled high and smooth to give her even more elegant height. Inches of hair had come off, but Patricia had assured her she could spare it.
She turned to look at herself over her shoulder. From beneath each exposed shoulder blade fell a frothing swath of silvery-white organza so fine one could read through it. When she moved even the slightest bit, they sailed lightly out behind her like a pair of gossamer wings.
Patricia was working more strands of the pearls into the woven pile of her hair.
“Are you sure we ought to have cut it?”
Patricia grinned at her in the mirror. “Bit late to doubt it, miss!”
Then the maid came down off her tiptoes and stepped back. With a sigh of dreamy satisfaction, she clasped her hands before her. “The fairy king
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