Vanquished by Hope Tarr

Author:Hope Tarr [Tarr, Hope]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Medallion Press
Published: 2006-07-01T07:00:00+00:00

Callie looked over the stacks of papers topping her desk to see her aunt sailing into her office, turned out in a fur-trimmed carriage dress with leg-o'-mutton sleeves, their maid, Jenny, in tow. Smile bright, Lottie announced, "Callie, dear, I knew I would find you here. I've come to drag you away from duty for an hour's jaunt to the shops."

Callie fitted a hand over her brow where the beginnings of a headache had begun to pulse. "Auntie, I can't leave now. With the meeting with Lord Salisbury scheduled for this Friday, shopping is the very last thing I've time for." Or mooning over a man I can't have, she added to herself.

In truth, her feelings for Hadrian were growing every day. Worse still, she was beginning to suspect that those feelings went considerably deeper than mere animal lust, although there was certainly that in abundance. Though they'd left off touching since the week before when she'd come perilously close to letting him tumble her in a whore's bed, it was there all the same, hot enough to melt wax and thrumming between them like electrical current.

Lottie dismissed her protests with a wave as if meeting with the prime minister was of trifling consequence. "Fiddlesticks, you have a secretary, don't you, and a staff of able volunteers?" She glanced about the office to the half-dozen women, all brisk and busy. "Surely Harriet can mind the shop for the few hours we'll need to find you a proper ball gown, is that not so, Harriet?" When the secretary had only nodded and gone to fetch her coat, Callie had known her ship was as good as sunk.

Their carriage turned the corner of Bond and Oxford Streets, and Lottie directed her driver to let them out at Maison Valen, a fashion house in operation since Napoleon's time. Well-known as one of the few older ladies willing to spend the money required to dress a la mode, she had no difficulty in catching a shop clerk's eye the moment they crossed the threshold.

Beckoning a young girl with a mouthful of pins to her side, Lottie launched into an explanation of the problem at hand. "We need a ball gown for my niece and it is imperative it be ready in time for tomorrow evening."

Eyes widening, the girl gave an effusive shake of her head. Spitting pins, she said, "But madame, it is not possible."

From the vicinity of the marble-topped counter on the room's other side, an authoritative voice called out, "On the contrary, Genevieve, for my good friend, Madame Rivers, all is possible."

Lottie turned her approving gaze on the tall, slender woman crossing the Oriental carpet toward them. Dressed all in black and with silvered hair swept into a soft chignon, the modiste was the very embodiment of elegance.

"Hortense, you are kindness itself." She turned to Callie. "Allow me to introduce my niece, Caledonia Rivers." Lottie's smile was a rival for the electric lights shining forth from the crystal chandelier overhead.

If the modiste knew who Callie was, she gave no sign of it.

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