Read Online Dark Before the Rising Sun by Laurie McBain - Free Book Online

on the sly, well…” he warned, the ugly glint in his eye promising swift retribution. There was little doubt that he meant it, for Mr. Parkham was a burly man who was well used to keeping order on his premises.
    â€œOh, ’tis true enough, m’lord,” one of the young men quickly spoke up, preferring to address the gentleman who most likely would be tipping him. “We’re from Madame Lambere. She sent us along with the clothes she finished for Lady Jacqobi. She said to be quick about it, that her ladyship needed them, and madame isn’t one to disappoint a customer. The Dominicks always pay their bills, she said. Otherwise, m’lord, we wouldn’t have intruded so late in the evening,” the young man explained, although his eyes, once having located the lady in question, had never moved beyond that stunning vision in white.
    â€œâ€™Tis true, then, m’lord?” Mr. Parkham demanded, thinking privately that this glib young gent in his finery probably did more than just deliver packages for Madame Lambere. But at his lordship’s nod, he had to acquiesce, and relaxing his defensive stance, he grudgingly allowed the two young gentlemen access to the room.
    â€œBe about yer business, then, and don’t be botherin’ his lordship any longer than need be. And ye two, get clearin’ the table,” he ordered the two maids, who’d been standing in awed silence while ignoring their less than interesting duties. “Ye’ve work to see to, so quit yer gabbin’ and gawkin’ and get crackin’. I’ll be expectin’ to see them silly faces back in the kitchens by the time I’ve gotten there meself,” he warned them, little realizing how quickly the two would follow in his very footsteps.
    The two young gentlemen wasted little time unwrapping their bundles. Spreading the contents across the wide four-poster in the far corner, they revealed a dazzling sight.
    A primrose yellow damask gown embroidered across the voluminous skirt with a scattering of delicate wildflowers and butterflies, and a blue quilted satin petticoat spilled forth like a breath of spring on a winter’s eve. A rose brocade with a white silk stomacher, richly embroidered in a pale green leaf pattern with small satin rosebuds, and elbow-length sleeves trimmed with a cascade of three point-lace ruffles burst into glory, next followed by a watered silk turquoise taffeta, flounced and furbelowed with Valenciennes lace and violet bows on the sleeves. A lavender petticoat tumbled out next.
    But it was the last gown revealed that drew gasps from the two mesmerized maids who were now staring quite openly at the finery piled high on the bed. The gown was an exquisite, ethereal creation of gold tissue which shimmered in the firelight like dancing fairy lights in the woodlands. The sleeves and ruffled skirt were trimmed in soft, silken blond lace that resembled gold-spun cobwebs.
    The pelisse of sapphire blue velvet, trimmed with ermine, went almost unnoticed, as did the assortment of handkerchiefs, some edged in lace, some embroidered, some colored. And the silk stockings in every shade imaginable, with kid gloves to match, remained carefully folded and set aside. The rose-colored satin slippers and the purple velvet ones soon became lost under the mountain of velvet and satin and lace, along with the pair made of yellow kid. The lavender silk hat with violet plumes might have captured a quick glance, but the straw hat with jonquil ribbons and the bergère with lovely sarcenet roses went unappreciated by the two bemused serving girls, their rounded eyes glued to the gown of shimmering golden threads.
    â€œWith m’lady’s permission, I’ll leave this package wrapped, for ’tis m’lady’s chemises, stays, and under petticoats,” the more talkative of the two men suggested courteously, but the look in his eye was anything but respectful.
    â€œHow