hurried up the stairs to dress for the day’s outing.
An hour later, she sat inside Mr. Bagly’s little shop, fabric samples all about her. One of the things she’d learned in finishing school was how to dress a man—if for no other reason than so she could argue with her husband’s valet.
“He’ll need a dozen business suits,” she was saying to Mr. Bagly as a clerk wrote furiously. “This light-colored wool, the Oxford gray check, the Angola, and that heavy blue Scottish wool…for now.”
“And for evening?” Mr. Bagly asked.
“The black worsted with a white marseilles vest. Now, for riding.”
She chose clothes for sports, pausing at, then rejecting, the golfing knickers and clothes for afternoon receptions. For his own wedding, she chose a black cutaway, then shirts, scarves, gloves. She then chose a large supply of underwear of lisle, linen handkerchiefs, and balbriggan socks.
“Shall we leave the hats until later?”
“Yes,” Houston answered. “And the canes.” She looked at the little gold watch pinned to her breast. “I must go now. May I have the completed suit?”
When Mr. Bagly had brought the new suit and a complete set of accessories, including shoes, from a storage room, Houston made arrangements for him to measure Edan for clothes for the wedding. “Good luck,” he called after her, as Houston sped away in her elegant new carriage. “You’ll need it,” he muttered under his breath.
Two hours later, Houston was dressed for the garden party, wearing a formfitting gown of dotted white mousseline de soie over yellow satin, a wide yellow ribbon across the bodice, tying in a bow on her hip. Somehow, this morning, Susan had managed to pull Houston’s corset a full three-quarters of an inch tighter. Breathing was done only in the upper half of her lungs, but what did a little discomfort matter? She wanted to look her best for her first official outing with her fiancé.
Sighing as she parked before the Taggert house, she realized she must hire servants soon. Now, she needed someone to help her from the carriage. Looking around to make sure no one was about, she pulled her dress up almost to the knees and stepped down.
A low whistle came from her left. “Prettiest thing I’ve seen all day,” said Kane, walking around the side of the house. “In fact you got better legs ’n a dancer I seen in New Orleans.”
Houston tried to control her blush. “I brought your suit, and you just have time to get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
She still wasn’t used to seeing him without his beard. His face was bristly this morning with dark, unshaven whiskers, but they didn’t hide his extraordinary good looks. How fortunate, she thought, to agree to marry a grizzly bear and have him turn into a handsome prince.
“For the garden party at two,” she answered.
“Oh, that,” he said over his shoulder as he started toward the door, leaving her standing.
“Yes, that.” She picked up her skirts and followed him inside and toward his office. “I thought perhaps we’d have time for a few lessons before we went, just enough so you’d feel comfortable, and of course you’ll want time to dress.”
He stopped behind his desk, picked up a piece of paper. “I’m real sorry, but I ain’t got time to go. I got too much work to do. You go on, though. You’re already dressed up and all. Maybe you can take some flowers from me.”
Houston took a deep breath. “Perhaps I should just give them money.”
He looked at her over the paper, his expression one of surprise. “They’d like that?”
“No,” she said evenly, “ they wouldn’t but I’m sure you would. That way you wouldn’t have to face them.”
“Are you sayin’ I’m afraid of a bunch of overdressed, tea-drinkin’ snobs? Why, I could buy and sell—.”
Her look cut him off.
“I ain’t goin’,” he said stubbornly and sat down.
She walked to stand near him, wanting very much to put her hand on his shoulder, but
An hour later, she sat inside Mr. Bagly’s little shop, fabric samples all about her. One of the things she’d learned in finishing school was how to dress a man—if for no other reason than so she could argue with her husband’s valet.
“He’ll need a dozen business suits,” she was saying to Mr. Bagly as a clerk wrote furiously. “This light-colored wool, the Oxford gray check, the Angola, and that heavy blue Scottish wool…for now.”
“And for evening?” Mr. Bagly asked.
“The black worsted with a white marseilles vest. Now, for riding.”
She chose clothes for sports, pausing at, then rejecting, the golfing knickers and clothes for afternoon receptions. For his own wedding, she chose a black cutaway, then shirts, scarves, gloves. She then chose a large supply of underwear of lisle, linen handkerchiefs, and balbriggan socks.
“Shall we leave the hats until later?”
“Yes,” Houston answered. “And the canes.” She looked at the little gold watch pinned to her breast. “I must go now. May I have the completed suit?”
When Mr. Bagly had brought the new suit and a complete set of accessories, including shoes, from a storage room, Houston made arrangements for him to measure Edan for clothes for the wedding. “Good luck,” he called after her, as Houston sped away in her elegant new carriage. “You’ll need it,” he muttered under his breath.
Two hours later, Houston was dressed for the garden party, wearing a formfitting gown of dotted white mousseline de soie over yellow satin, a wide yellow ribbon across the bodice, tying in a bow on her hip. Somehow, this morning, Susan had managed to pull Houston’s corset a full three-quarters of an inch tighter. Breathing was done only in the upper half of her lungs, but what did a little discomfort matter? She wanted to look her best for her first official outing with her fiancé.
Sighing as she parked before the Taggert house, she realized she must hire servants soon. Now, she needed someone to help her from the carriage. Looking around to make sure no one was about, she pulled her dress up almost to the knees and stepped down.
A low whistle came from her left. “Prettiest thing I’ve seen all day,” said Kane, walking around the side of the house. “In fact you got better legs ’n a dancer I seen in New Orleans.”
Houston tried to control her blush. “I brought your suit, and you just have time to get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
She still wasn’t used to seeing him without his beard. His face was bristly this morning with dark, unshaven whiskers, but they didn’t hide his extraordinary good looks. How fortunate, she thought, to agree to marry a grizzly bear and have him turn into a handsome prince.
“For the garden party at two,” she answered.
“Oh, that,” he said over his shoulder as he started toward the door, leaving her standing.
“Yes, that.” She picked up her skirts and followed him inside and toward his office. “I thought perhaps we’d have time for a few lessons before we went, just enough so you’d feel comfortable, and of course you’ll want time to dress.”
He stopped behind his desk, picked up a piece of paper. “I’m real sorry, but I ain’t got time to go. I got too much work to do. You go on, though. You’re already dressed up and all. Maybe you can take some flowers from me.”
Houston took a deep breath. “Perhaps I should just give them money.”
He looked at her over the paper, his expression one of surprise. “They’d like that?”
“No,” she said evenly, “ they wouldn’t but I’m sure you would. That way you wouldn’t have to face them.”
“Are you sayin’ I’m afraid of a bunch of overdressed, tea-drinkin’ snobs? Why, I could buy and sell—.”
Her look cut him off.
“I ain’t goin’,” he said stubbornly and sat down.
She walked to stand near him, wanting very much to put her hand on his shoulder, but
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