Several ladies huffed in outrage. Several more looked like they were going to protest vigorously until one young lady broke the silence with a too loud whisper.
“Mama, we need to go now, whilst everyone’s distracted. Mettingers has a good reputation.”
The ladies panicked, all trying to head for the doors at once. Perri thanked the Deities above she still had a hold of Levi, otherwise he would have been trampled underfoot.
“Lastonne?” The name sounded so loud in the sudden silence.
“Perri, my sweet.” Lastonne straightened his glasses, eyeing Perri. “Blue suits you.” He made no reference to her veil, instead leaning forward to plant an effusive kiss where he presumed her cheek would be. “Gads, it’s been forever.”
“Four years at least. You always had a very neat turn of stitch but I thought you would have gone into some type of healing work.”
“What can I say, I met a man. And before you know it, I was opening a little haberdashery shop, that just got bigger and bigger… and now I’m here.”
“The place looks wonderful. I’m so glad you’ve found your calling.”
Lastonne had come to them on a pilgrimage some eight years ago. The love of his life had just died. His own family long ago rejecting him because of his inclinations. He’d been depressed and defeated, trying to figure out if it was worthwhile continuing to live on, alone. They’d put him to work. And over time he’d formed friendships and healed, slowly. Eventually he’d left the Lair to try his luck in the big wide world.
“I’m so glad you could see it. When Deacon stopped by yesterday to say hello, I insisted he bring you on by. And how fortuitous. As soon as news of the masked ball broke, I knew you and Alia would be my only clients. You’re going to look stunning, the pair of you. I specialise in masks, you know.” Lastonne waved a hand, drawing Perri’s gaze towards the nearest wall that was studded with sparkling evocative masks. Each a work of art in its own right.
“They’re gorgeous. Alia will no doubt look stunning in one of your creations. I have all her measurements right here. But don’t go to any trouble for me. I just need something simple.”
“You wound me. I don’t do simple. No… I will not hear a single protest. Now, let’s you and I go into the back so we can take some measurements and look at what I have in mind for you my darling girl. I’m afraid you boys will just have to amuse yourselves out here.”
Perri noted Levi’s gaze travel over all the rich fabrics and sparkles on display as if he’d never seen the like. Although given the sad state of his clothes, perhaps he’d never been in a tailor shop before. She was tempted to buy him some new clothes, but Regal or his servants would want to know where he’d gotten such items. Damn, wasn’t there anything she could do to help her son right now?
“We should order in a big lunch.” She could feed him, that’s what she could do.
“Already done. I have several seamstresses who work for me and we eat together every day, family style.”
“Wonderful.” Observing Deacon pull some knuckle bones from one of his pockets, holding them out to Levi, his head tilted in query. Soon the two boys were crouched together on the floor, focused on their game. “And will I have a chance to meet this man of yours, who makes you glow when you mention him?”
“He’ll come by for lunch. Conveniently he works in the shop right next door.”
“The shoemaker?” She recalled the gorgeous display windows they’d passed.
“That’s the one. Don’t worry, I already have him working on shoes for you and Alia.”
She thought of the ragged barely holding together shoes Levi was wearing, and fought back tears of anger. Blinking them away as a thought sparked. She’d just had a very clever idea of how to help Levi and ensure that Regal would be none the wiser.
But first, the reason she was here.
“The navy number in the window would be a perfect foil on Alia.”
“Undeniably.” Lastonne agreed. “But I’ll bet you money that every Mama who’s seen it is requesting a navy dress from their dressmaker right at this moment for themselves. Come see the sketch and fabric I’ve already picked out for Alia.”
Perri followed Lastonne through the busy workroom, where at least seven staff were industriously bent over foot propelled sewing machines, hard at work. They stopped at a massive upright desk, four lanterns overhead casting bright light down upon a large sketchbook. “Oh, my. It’s beautiful.” The design was stunning and the colour looked sinfully rich and decadent. “Crimson.” Reaching over to caress a swatch of fabric Lastonne had draped over a waiting mannequin beside the desk. Samples of matching gauze, dyed feathers and an array of sparkling gems beside it on the table in readiness.
“I call the design – Blaze. None of those simpering pastels the other candidates are insisting upon for our glorious Beast. You approve?”
“Heartily.” Alia was going to be breathtaking.
“And for you.” Lastonne reached over, flipping the page.
“Black?” But it was as far from sombre or widow weeds as a dress could be. If anything, the design screamed illicit boudoir wear, worn by the naughtiest, the most beautiful mistress a man could ever dream of having. “It’s… it’s amazing. But too much. I couldn’t possibly.” And Perri couldn’t. All that flesh on display? And that mask in the picture was nothing but pure fantasy. Everyone would point and either laugh or run in horror.
“You can and you will.” Lastonne leaned over, whispering in her ear. “I will create a mask just for you, fitted perfectly to your face. Let me do this for you, Perri. Trust me. I would never embarrass you or leave you open to ridicule. I’m very good at my craft. Even if it’s only for one night, allow yourself to walk amongst the aristos without the veil. Drink, eat, dance… flirt.”
Perri’s thoughts instantly went to Brandth. And the suggestion, no, invitation he’d issued last evening. This was the type of outfit a woman who indulged in casual affairs wore. Could Perri be that type of woman?
