not have them.” Mrs. Larue laid a hand on her arm, kindness softening her brown eyes. “Those styles would not suit you, anyway.”
Brighid’s gaze jumped to Mrs. Larue in surprise. Heat washed over her cheeks as the first few threads of excitement curled through her. It had been months since she’d owned anything so fine.
Beth smiled, knowing victory when she saw it. “Sit, and let her show you her ideas. Then we can decide.”
Brighid fingered the fabrics, enchanted by their beauty, absently listening to the women talk while Mrs. Larue sketched.
Food arrived, and Brighid nibbled while sketch after sketch was produced. Without being aware of it, she demolished the food the servants had brought. Every speck, every crumb. She adored food, but hadn’t had the luxury to indulge much beyond a hurried meal in the past few months. It was a rare treat to eat until full. She glanced at her plate, contemplating her new life.
Temporary life, she amended.
She straightened abruptly, her pleasure draining. She couldn’t allow herself to become too comfortable.
“Done.” Mrs. Larue turned the pad. “What do you think?”
“They’re gorgeous.” Brighid stared at the drawings in fascination, reached out to touch the lifelike designs before yanking her hand back.
The dresses were impractical.
They would draw too much attention to her.
Despite the reasons it would be a bad idea, a yearning to possess something so fine swept through her.
As if sensing weakness, Beth smiled. “They’re perfect.”
Brighid stroked the smooth fabric between her fingers, imagining what it would be like to wear it for Wyatt.
Would he see her as more than some village girl who needed to be rescued?
“Let me do this for you.”
After a few more seconds of hesitation, Brighid allowed herself to be seduced, and gave a short nod, refusing to examine the storm of conflicting emotions. Under their direction, Brighid undressed and stood still while the three servants poked, prodded and measured every inch of her for what seemed like hours.
After the first few attempts, she stopped trying to suppress her yawns. She’d never realized a person could die of boredom.
“That’s enough, girls.” Mrs. Larue clapped her hands and smiled. “We’ll have the first dresses sent around tomorrow. The others will need to be fitted, tucked, and will be delivered at a later date.”
Brighid re-dressed while they packed, anxious to escape before Beth found some other torture to put her through, then immediately scolded herself for being an ungrateful wretch.
Beth waved her away as if she saw her twitching to escape. “Why not go to your room and rest before dinner?”
“Of course.” Brighid bolted out the door before Beth could change her mind. Instead of heading toward her room, though, she hurried down stairs. She needed to ask Wyatt to place a lock on her door.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of confronting him again, and though she knew it was best to keep out of his way, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.
In her eagerness, she nearly plowed into Angelica when she rounded the corner.
Angelica straightened, almost as if she’d been waiting for her, and Brighid’s spine stiffened.
“You will never be one of us, no matter how prettily you wrap the package.” Angelica circled, carefully pulling her fine dress away Brighid’s torn, filthy one, as if afraid to be sullied. Then the shrewish woman leaned closer, her noise crinkling as if she’d smelled something rotten. “Wyatt is no fool. Your lack of breeding will show through your flimsy disguise.”
With a swish of skirts and a gleam of triumph, Angelica stuck her nose in the air and sailed down the hall as if she owned it.
Brighid brushed away the small twinge of self-doubt, refusing to be intimidated by the shrewish chit, and nearly snorted at the absurdity of the entire situation. Wyatt’s brilliant plan had backfired. Instead of diverting Angelica’s
Brighid’s gaze jumped to Mrs. Larue in surprise. Heat washed over her cheeks as the first few threads of excitement curled through her. It had been months since she’d owned anything so fine.
Beth smiled, knowing victory when she saw it. “Sit, and let her show you her ideas. Then we can decide.”
Brighid fingered the fabrics, enchanted by their beauty, absently listening to the women talk while Mrs. Larue sketched.
Food arrived, and Brighid nibbled while sketch after sketch was produced. Without being aware of it, she demolished the food the servants had brought. Every speck, every crumb. She adored food, but hadn’t had the luxury to indulge much beyond a hurried meal in the past few months. It was a rare treat to eat until full. She glanced at her plate, contemplating her new life.
Temporary life, she amended.
She straightened abruptly, her pleasure draining. She couldn’t allow herself to become too comfortable.
“Done.” Mrs. Larue turned the pad. “What do you think?”
“They’re gorgeous.” Brighid stared at the drawings in fascination, reached out to touch the lifelike designs before yanking her hand back.
The dresses were impractical.
They would draw too much attention to her.
Despite the reasons it would be a bad idea, a yearning to possess something so fine swept through her.
As if sensing weakness, Beth smiled. “They’re perfect.”
Brighid stroked the smooth fabric between her fingers, imagining what it would be like to wear it for Wyatt.
Would he see her as more than some village girl who needed to be rescued?
“Let me do this for you.”
After a few more seconds of hesitation, Brighid allowed herself to be seduced, and gave a short nod, refusing to examine the storm of conflicting emotions. Under their direction, Brighid undressed and stood still while the three servants poked, prodded and measured every inch of her for what seemed like hours.
After the first few attempts, she stopped trying to suppress her yawns. She’d never realized a person could die of boredom.
“That’s enough, girls.” Mrs. Larue clapped her hands and smiled. “We’ll have the first dresses sent around tomorrow. The others will need to be fitted, tucked, and will be delivered at a later date.”
Brighid re-dressed while they packed, anxious to escape before Beth found some other torture to put her through, then immediately scolded herself for being an ungrateful wretch.
Beth waved her away as if she saw her twitching to escape. “Why not go to your room and rest before dinner?”
“Of course.” Brighid bolted out the door before Beth could change her mind. Instead of heading toward her room, though, she hurried down stairs. She needed to ask Wyatt to place a lock on her door.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of confronting him again, and though she knew it was best to keep out of his way, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.
In her eagerness, she nearly plowed into Angelica when she rounded the corner.
Angelica straightened, almost as if she’d been waiting for her, and Brighid’s spine stiffened.
“You will never be one of us, no matter how prettily you wrap the package.” Angelica circled, carefully pulling her fine dress away Brighid’s torn, filthy one, as if afraid to be sullied. Then the shrewish woman leaned closer, her noise crinkling as if she’d smelled something rotten. “Wyatt is no fool. Your lack of breeding will show through your flimsy disguise.”
With a swish of skirts and a gleam of triumph, Angelica stuck her nose in the air and sailed down the hall as if she owned it.
Brighid brushed away the small twinge of self-doubt, refusing to be intimidated by the shrewish chit, and nearly snorted at the absurdity of the entire situation. Wyatt’s brilliant plan had backfired. Instead of diverting Angelica’s
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