Read Online Miss Molly Robbins Designs a Seduction by Jayne Fresina - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jayne Fresina
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that decidedly less-than-fashionable part of Town, but clearly Lady Anne was too young and inexperienced yet to know all the proper etiquette. The governess must have her hands full with such a lively charge.
That day Molly also received a card asking her to attend the Baroness Schofield at her house in Grosvenor Square. The baroness was a young widow with portrait-worthy beauty and a curvaceous figure. She had come out of mourning six months before and was now making up for it. There appeared to be no budget to restrain her, and not much in the way of taste either. Indeed, the baroness had to be reined in, for her extravagant ideas were not in keeping with Molly’s designs.
“I can assure you, madam, the fashion for too much trim at the hem is soon to pass,” she told the lady. “The wide silhouette of the gigot sleeve has also had its day. You will be ahead of the trends with a less cluttered design.” And she showed, by way of a sketch, how a simple cut would lengthen and lighten the figure, while also flattering the best features. Whenever she had the chance to talk of fashion and design, Molly enjoyed a burst of confidence and completely forgot to be reserved or timid. She loved to talk of fabric and trimmings, for in these subjects she was fluent, having amassed a vast amount of knowledge over her years of friendship with Lady Mercy. When she spoke with authority on her favorite subject, people listened to her for once, as if she had something of value to share and did not simply exist to do their bidding.
The Baroness Schofield, however, was not easily convinced. Like many, she was accustomed to following whatever style was taken up by members of Society’s elite, even when it was not necessarily suited to her size and shape. She was also excessively proud of her fine bosom and showed it off at every opportunity. When Molly gently suggested that the baroness need not display herself to be noticed, the remark was treated with the same indignation as might be faced if she told a war hero that he wore too many medals on his uniform.
Eventually, after much careful handling and subtle persuasion, the client sulkily allowed a pared-down design. She reminded Molly of a pedigreed, self-contented cat. If she possessed a tail, it would definitely be up as she walked. Molly was quite relieved when the meeting was over and she could leave the lady’s purring, humorless laugh and suffocating perfume behind. But as she passed through the hall on her way out, she turned her gaze to an elegant little console table with cabriole legs and, while her designing eye admired the softly curved lines of the craftsman’s work, noted a man’s scarf dropped in a crumpled snake upon it. Recognition was swift. She had sewn those initials upon it herself some six months ago for the Earl of Everscham.
She imagined her mother looking down from heaven and shaking her head.
Molly’s sigh was so loud and gusty that the footman charged with showing her to the door threw her a wary look. She simply shook her head and walked out into the sun.
Soon after this, Lady Cecelia Montague sent for her to discuss a new gown, and once again Molly donned her best coat and bonnet to travel across town in a hansom cab.
After a few stiff pleasantries and inquiries into the health of Lady Mercy Danforthe—which they both knew was merely an attempt to find out why Molly’s former mistress remained in the country—Lady Cecelia informed her that she would condescend to hire her services. “We approach the fashionable season, as you know, Robbins, and I need a number of new gowns. I do not like to burden my regular seamstress with too much work. I suppose”—and here she paused while giving Molly’s coat a disdainful perusal that stopped just short of a sneer—“I suppose I can give you a trial.”
As she knew it would, the patronage of Lady Cecelia granted the necessary mark of approval for other women to seek her services, and Molly became
That day Molly also received a card asking her to attend the Baroness Schofield at her house in Grosvenor Square. The baroness was a young widow with portrait-worthy beauty and a curvaceous figure. She had come out of mourning six months before and was now making up for it. There appeared to be no budget to restrain her, and not much in the way of taste either. Indeed, the baroness had to be reined in, for her extravagant ideas were not in keeping with Molly’s designs.
“I can assure you, madam, the fashion for too much trim at the hem is soon to pass,” she told the lady. “The wide silhouette of the gigot sleeve has also had its day. You will be ahead of the trends with a less cluttered design.” And she showed, by way of a sketch, how a simple cut would lengthen and lighten the figure, while also flattering the best features. Whenever she had the chance to talk of fashion and design, Molly enjoyed a burst of confidence and completely forgot to be reserved or timid. She loved to talk of fabric and trimmings, for in these subjects she was fluent, having amassed a vast amount of knowledge over her years of friendship with Lady Mercy. When she spoke with authority on her favorite subject, people listened to her for once, as if she had something of value to share and did not simply exist to do their bidding.
The Baroness Schofield, however, was not easily convinced. Like many, she was accustomed to following whatever style was taken up by members of Society’s elite, even when it was not necessarily suited to her size and shape. She was also excessively proud of her fine bosom and showed it off at every opportunity. When Molly gently suggested that the baroness need not display herself to be noticed, the remark was treated with the same indignation as might be faced if she told a war hero that he wore too many medals on his uniform.
Eventually, after much careful handling and subtle persuasion, the client sulkily allowed a pared-down design. She reminded Molly of a pedigreed, self-contented cat. If she possessed a tail, it would definitely be up as she walked. Molly was quite relieved when the meeting was over and she could leave the lady’s purring, humorless laugh and suffocating perfume behind. But as she passed through the hall on her way out, she turned her gaze to an elegant little console table with cabriole legs and, while her designing eye admired the softly curved lines of the craftsman’s work, noted a man’s scarf dropped in a crumpled snake upon it. Recognition was swift. She had sewn those initials upon it herself some six months ago for the Earl of Everscham.
She imagined her mother looking down from heaven and shaking her head.
Molly’s sigh was so loud and gusty that the footman charged with showing her to the door threw her a wary look. She simply shook her head and walked out into the sun.
Soon after this, Lady Cecelia Montague sent for her to discuss a new gown, and once again Molly donned her best coat and bonnet to travel across town in a hansom cab.
After a few stiff pleasantries and inquiries into the health of Lady Mercy Danforthe—which they both knew was merely an attempt to find out why Molly’s former mistress remained in the country—Lady Cecelia informed her that she would condescend to hire her services. “We approach the fashionable season, as you know, Robbins, and I need a number of new gowns. I do not like to burden my regular seamstress with too much work. I suppose”—and here she paused while giving Molly’s coat a disdainful perusal that stopped just short of a sneer—“I suppose I can give you a trial.”
As she knew it would, the patronage of Lady Cecelia granted the necessary mark of approval for other women to seek her services, and Molly became
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