For The Love Of A Widow by Christina McKnight

Author:Christina McKnight [McKnight, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, retail, Historical
ISBN: 9781945089169
Publisher: La Loma Elite Publishing
Published: 2017-08-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

They arrived at the modiste with only moments to spare as she and Daniel bustled through the door. She was certain Daniel hadn’t realized the impact his words had had on her—not all things are meant to heal. Maybe the wounds of her past would never heal. If they didn’t, then it was up to her to patch and bandage them well enough that the pain and visible wounds were not obvious to those surrounding her.

For not the first time, she experienced the security of having Daniel close. The feeling that as long as he was near, nothing bad could happen to her.

It had been a long week since her arrival in London, and she hadn’t seen Daniel after that first day. He was giving her ample time, and while she appreciated that greatly, her sense of loneliness was all-consuming as the nightmares no longer waited for nightfall to attack.

Curse her, but she’d missed Daniel since she’d wed Gregory.

She had no right to long for him, no right to claim his time, and certainly no right to ask anything of a man she’d betrayed. Though she’d done it in the name of love, mattered naught.

“Hold still, my lady,” the modiste said. “Only a few more pins, and I shall be done.”

She shook her head to clear her wayward thoughts and stood perfectly still as the modiste slipped another pin into the pre-fashioned gown she was fitting to her exact size. The three-part mirror caught Lettie from several angles, and her skin appeared pale next to the ebony muslin. She’d selected this pattern as opposed to the calico material for the soft way it hugged her and draped gracefully to the floor where one of the modiste’s helpers pinned the hem.

The extravagant bolt of fabric could be traded for enough materials to outfit an entire foot battalion. Lettie pushed down her contrition, knowing if she did not select at least a half-dozen gowns, her mother would likely purchase dresses for her made from far more lavish silks and satins.

“I will return in a moment,” the modiste called, clucking for her helper to follow as she departed the back fitting room, exiting through the curtain that separated this room from the front of the shop.

Lettie glanced back at her reflection—her skin had lost its sun-kissed coloring, her hair was growing back but at odd angles, and her face was far thinner, almost gaunt, from many hours of labor and not enough rest and sustenance. She was a mere shell of the woman she’d been during her debut Season. A chuckle from the front room drew Lettie’s attention.

When the modiste had departed the room, she’d pushed the curtain aside, affording Lettie a glimpse of the front of the store. Daniel sat where she’d left him almost two hours prior. His continued presence wasn’t necessary, and Lettie had begged him to depart and return for her later; however, he’d insisted on remaining in case she needed anything.

He’d done far more than was necessary. It was as if he were determined to continue their association and pick up where they’d left off.

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