Read Online Charm and Consequence by Stephanie Wardrop - Free Book Online Page A

she was alone, put down her parcel and picked up the jacket.
    She cast a judicious eye over the cut and fabric. It was well-made and she noted with approval the even seams and well-fitted lining. The black-and-white look was very much in the Moschino style, but it wasn’t Moschino. Angel checked the label and felt a tiny shock of recognition. A flamboyant black CLARISSA told her at once who had made the jacket.
    Ever since Lily had told her that Clarissa designed her own clothes and had a part-time job working for the up-and-coming New York fashion designer, Miki Merua, Angel had felt a guilty fascination for her best friend’s archenemy. Anything to do with fashion was an irresistible lure for Angel and (despite Lily’s regular catalogue of Clarissa’s vices) she found it hard to believe that anyone who brought their own dressmaker’s dummy and sewing machine to the house could possibly be as bad as Lily made out.
    Angel held the jacket away from her—the cut was good and the black panels were a cute idea but something—
    Upstairs a door slammed. She stiffened as the staccato tip-tup sound of high heels on marble came toward her. Angel dropped the jacket, grabbed her precious parcel and fled.
    Opening the door to the kitchen wing, she passed through into the safety and familiarity of her own world. There was no gleaming marble here, but over the years Angel had grown to like the bare walls and worn carpet. This part of the house might be austere but it was quiet and these days that was all she wanted.
    She walked quickly down the hallway past the long-disused butler’s room and the former housekeeper’s old room. Angel’s bedroom was opposite her mother’s at the end of the hall. They were next to the kitchen, which made things quicker in the morning—especially when Philip had guests and there were breakfasts to be delivered upstairs.
    Angel frowned. Usually Philip de Tourney’s houseguests were pleasant and undemanding, not like Margot and Clarissa Kane. It was incredible: they’d only been in the house a week and already they’d created havoc. No wonder Lily kept staying late at school. Unless . . .
    She crossed the hall and entered the butler’s old room. Here lay a treasure trove of unwanted things gathering dust. In the centre of the room, two large wooden wardrobes and a low table formed a makeshift theatre and standing on the table, with her back to the door, was Lily.
    “What do I want?” Angel heard her say. “What motivates me?”
    “Fame, money, a movie deal—the usual things,” said Angel.
    Lily spun round. “I wasn’t talking about me!”
    “I know, but maybe it’s what your character wants.”
    “No way,” cried Lily, jumping down. “Emily Webb is deeper than that.” She sat down on the coffee table. “Though she’d probably like a new dress if it was offered.”
    “Who wouldn't want a new dress?” smiled Angel, holding out her parcel.
    Lily's eyes widened. “Don't tell me you finally found it?”
    “Look.” Angel parted the paper.
    “OMG, it's exactly how you described it—the same colour as—”
    “—the dress you were wearing the day we met.” Angel nodded. “I’ve always remembered it. It was the prettiest dress I’d ever seen.”
    “You couldn’t have seen many,” objected Lily. “You were only six.”
    Angel smiled, “You’re forgetting, I'd seen your mother’s entire wardrobe by the time you came down here.”
    “Yes, and you looked so guilty!”
    “I felt guilty. We’d only been here three weeks and I thought for sure your dad would tell Maman we had to leave.”
    “No chance of that. Dad was far more likely to be mad at me for invading Simone’s privacy. He’d made me promise not to come down here bothering her.”
    “And we both know you always do what your Dad tells you.”
    Lily gave her a shove. “I do when he’s reasonable. Anyway, he likes us being friends. He knows what a good influence you are on me.”
    This time it was Angel’s