“What have we here?” he murmured, spying an exquisite roll of amethyst silk on one of the lowest shelves.
He crouched down to investigate, pulling one glove off with his teeth to feel the fabric for himself. It was cool to the touch, soft as a rose petal, and about as liquid as a fabric could be.
Valeria would look… remarkable in a gown of this.He closed his eyes to imagine it, picturing detailed beading and jewelling, so she glittered as she walked. A dark angel, descended straight from the heavens, carrying starlight with her.
He doubted anything could surpass the deep, garnet red of last night’s velvet gown, but a dress of this silkmightjust achieve it.
“She must have red hair,” Mrs. Bird said, startling Duncan.
She had appeared so silently, which might have made sense to his jolted mind if she did not walk with a cane and a limp. He frowned at her as he stood to his full height, wondering if the impediment was a charade of some kind, so no one would know that there was a creature of great stealth and strength beneath.
“The lady,” Mrs. Bird continued with a smile. “She must have red hair. Auburn, perhaps. Green eyes. A pale or ruddy complexion.”
Duncan quirked an eyebrow. “How can you guess that?”
“The colors you’ve been choosing,” she answered with a shrug of her bony shoulders. “You weren’t certain at first, with the midnight blue. Last time, you couldn’t decide between the garnet or the emerald. Now, you’re eyeing the amethyst. Such bold colors wouldn’t suit fair hair, and though they’d complement darker hair well enough, you wavered on the red last time.”
Duncan smiled. “I am glad that you convinced me.”
“She wore it well?”
He nodded. “Far better than I ever expected. I cannot thank you enough for working such magic with what I brought to you.”
“Nonsense, Your Grace. I haven’t seen Italian velvet like that in years,” Mrs. Bird cooed. “It was my pleasure, though if you’re wanting something made in its entirety, you’d best orderit swiftly. There’s a difference between amending a gown that exists and making one new.”
The two gowns he had gifted to Valeria had come from a lonely armoire at Thornhill Grange, where dresses of all kinds had remained abandoned since he was little more than a boy. It had always been his mother’s hope that, one day, they would be passed on to daughters-in-law or granddaughters, but neither of those things had come to pass.
He had considered getting rid of them many times over the years, selling them to anyone who might desire a rare gown, but every time he had given it serious thought, he had closed the doors instead. He did not know what had possessed him to fetch the gowns for Valeria, but he had no regrets; they deserved to be altered and given new life, and she had worn them as if they had always been hers.
“In that case, I should like to order a gown from this silk,” he said suddenly. “With beading and spangles. I leave the design up to you. I trust you implicitly, Mrs. Bird.”
“For the same lucky lady?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“What lucky lady?” Lionel’s voice rattled up Duncan’s spine, startling him for a second time.
He had not seen his friend lurking behind a tall arrangement of hats and bonnets, too engrossed in the thought of how Valeria would look in a gown of that amethyst silk to pay attention to Lionel’s whereabouts.
“Are you buying something, Lockie?” Lionel edged out from his hiding place, as Mrs. Bird made herself scarce. It appeared that she, too, had not noticed Lionel’s approach.
Duncan grimaced. “Can a gentleman not enquire about a gown without suspicion?”
“Well, I highly doubt you are buying a gown for yourself, my good man, and I am always curious to know what my dear friend is up to,” Lionel replied, running his fingertip across the edge of a bolt of pink silk. “Is this the real reason for your ill temper? Have you encountered a lady, at last, who will not be wooed? Is this an act of persuasion, perchance?”
A crossroads lay ahead of Duncan. He could either tie himself into knots trying to lie his way out of the situation, certain that Lionel would not believe any falsehood anyway; he could tell the truth, and perhaps find relief in having someone to talk to about the situation, at last; or, he could walk out of the shop and pretend the conversation had never taken place.
“Iamtired because I did not sleep well, and this is none of those things,” he answered at last, running a hand through his hair. “It is part of a… debt.”
Lionel furrowed his brow in confusion. “You owe gowns as a debt? To whom? Did you destroy someone’s dress or something?”
Puffing out an exasperated breath, Duncan explained the situation with Valeria, as quickly and in as little detail as possible. “So, you see, I am helping her. And ensuring that she stands out is a significant part of that assistance.Thatis the purpose of the gowns. This will be the third.” He glanced toward the counter. “Thank you again for your help, Mrs. Bird.”
“Not at all, Your Grace,” she chirped back, a little shamefaced.
Lionel stood frozen, as though time had stopped around him. He did not blink, did not move; he just stared at Duncan, slack-jawed. It was not quite the reaction Duncan had expected, but itwasa complex matter. It appeared Lionel was still trying to process what he had heard.
“Amelia did not mention any of this to me,” Lionel said, after a moment.
