towering, royal pet and was grimly amused.
"Do as you will then. It is only my wish that you be properly attired, and since you have no apparent means of seeing to it, the responsibility is mine. For the supplies of the household, food, wine, and other goods, you may select what you will, where you please, and have the bills sent here to me; the same arrangement will suffice for your clothing. But I reserve the right to decide what is, or is not, suitable as to quality of material or cut."
"I will try not to disgrace you."
"It will be better if you seek to please me."
The interview, if such it could be termed, appeared to be at an end. Her smile was icy as she set her untasted wine aside and stood up. “Better for whom?"
"Oh, for me, of course,” he said gently. “Who else?"
" Bonjour , mademoiselle. I am Worth. How may I be of service?"
She was taking a chance in returning to Maison Gagelin, the draper's establishment on the rue de Richelieu that she had visited with her grandmother. It seemed unlikely that anyone would remember a single customer out of all those who must have been in and out of the shop since. She had bought only a shawl on that visit, not placed an order for something important such as a trousseau or funeral vestments. There was no reason at all that she should stand out in the mind of the sales staff, and she knew that here she would be certain of a quality of cloth with which the prince could not find fault.
It was ill luck, nothing less, that brought the same young Englishman who had sold her the shawl to serve her. She was tempted to turn and walk out at once, but not only would it be rudeness to one who had been of great help to her before, it might well appear strange to Luca, who was acting as her escort.
She had thought at first that purest altruism had prompted the gypsy to accompany her, that perhaps he had felt it was unsafe for her to be on the streets alone. But as the morning had worn on and he had followed her in and out of boucheries searching for the freshest meat, through innumerable pâtis - series testing for the best small cakes and jellies, and even marching past the stalls at the open market of Les Halles looking for the freshest vegetables, she could see his boredom. He would much have preferred being with the other members of the cadre who were off on some expedition near Montmartre, the purpose of which had not been explained to her. The only thing that had kept him from it, she strongly suspected, was orders to the contrary. He enjoyed her company, but what she was doing was the province of women, not of men. He was more uncomfortable in some of the places than others, she knew, and was particularly so here at the draper's where one of the clerks eyed the way he was dressed, his dark skin, the earring in his ear, and the cowrie amulet, and had audibly sniffed before turning away.
Luca gave no sign that he had noticed. He only stood leaning against a marble column, surveying with weary disdain the red Persian carpet, the damask-covered walls, the crystal chandeliers on chains reflected in tall looking glasses, the hothouse flowers, and the mahogany serving counters.
" Bonjour ,” she said, returning the polite greeting before stating her need for cloth for a few day gowns. She had decided that four would suffice to make her presentable. She would sew one together quickly to show her skill and to give her something to wear other than the white silk now concealed under her cloak. The silk, with the addition of a bit of lace or ribbon trim at the waist and clever needlework to hide the tears, would be adequate for evening wear, should she need such a thing.
Worth inclined his head in understanding. “Will you come this way, mademoiselle? But I know you, do I not? Ah, you are the lady with the gray shawl. So pleasant to see you again."
Had Luca heard? She could not be sure he had not, though they had moved some distance from him. Who would have thought the shop
"Do as you will then. It is only my wish that you be properly attired, and since you have no apparent means of seeing to it, the responsibility is mine. For the supplies of the household, food, wine, and other goods, you may select what you will, where you please, and have the bills sent here to me; the same arrangement will suffice for your clothing. But I reserve the right to decide what is, or is not, suitable as to quality of material or cut."
"I will try not to disgrace you."
"It will be better if you seek to please me."
The interview, if such it could be termed, appeared to be at an end. Her smile was icy as she set her untasted wine aside and stood up. “Better for whom?"
"Oh, for me, of course,” he said gently. “Who else?"
" Bonjour , mademoiselle. I am Worth. How may I be of service?"
She was taking a chance in returning to Maison Gagelin, the draper's establishment on the rue de Richelieu that she had visited with her grandmother. It seemed unlikely that anyone would remember a single customer out of all those who must have been in and out of the shop since. She had bought only a shawl on that visit, not placed an order for something important such as a trousseau or funeral vestments. There was no reason at all that she should stand out in the mind of the sales staff, and she knew that here she would be certain of a quality of cloth with which the prince could not find fault.
It was ill luck, nothing less, that brought the same young Englishman who had sold her the shawl to serve her. She was tempted to turn and walk out at once, but not only would it be rudeness to one who had been of great help to her before, it might well appear strange to Luca, who was acting as her escort.
She had thought at first that purest altruism had prompted the gypsy to accompany her, that perhaps he had felt it was unsafe for her to be on the streets alone. But as the morning had worn on and he had followed her in and out of boucheries searching for the freshest meat, through innumerable pâtis - series testing for the best small cakes and jellies, and even marching past the stalls at the open market of Les Halles looking for the freshest vegetables, she could see his boredom. He would much have preferred being with the other members of the cadre who were off on some expedition near Montmartre, the purpose of which had not been explained to her. The only thing that had kept him from it, she strongly suspected, was orders to the contrary. He enjoyed her company, but what she was doing was the province of women, not of men. He was more uncomfortable in some of the places than others, she knew, and was particularly so here at the draper's where one of the clerks eyed the way he was dressed, his dark skin, the earring in his ear, and the cowrie amulet, and had audibly sniffed before turning away.
Luca gave no sign that he had noticed. He only stood leaning against a marble column, surveying with weary disdain the red Persian carpet, the damask-covered walls, the crystal chandeliers on chains reflected in tall looking glasses, the hothouse flowers, and the mahogany serving counters.
" Bonjour ,” she said, returning the polite greeting before stating her need for cloth for a few day gowns. She had decided that four would suffice to make her presentable. She would sew one together quickly to show her skill and to give her something to wear other than the white silk now concealed under her cloak. The silk, with the addition of a bit of lace or ribbon trim at the waist and clever needlework to hide the tears, would be adequate for evening wear, should she need such a thing.
Worth inclined his head in understanding. “Will you come this way, mademoiselle? But I know you, do I not? Ah, you are the lady with the gray shawl. So pleasant to see you again."
Had Luca heard? She could not be sure he had not, though they had moved some distance from him. Who would have thought the shop
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