her.
“Also,” her fingers smoothed her black crêpe dress with suddenly nervous fingers, “I will require an advance on my clothing stipend to pay for more black gowns.” The last thing Lucinda wanted to do was beg Riel for dresses. She hoped Mr. Chase would give her the money now. In the past, he had been amenable to any requests she had made. All reasonable, of course. She had no wish to squander her father’s money… her money, now.
“Certainly. I have saved a bit from last Season, and will advance that to Mr. Montclair, as well.”
Lucinda slid a dismayed glance at Riel. “Please, may I have the money now? I must commission the gowns immediately.”
The solicitor glanced at Riel. “Very well.” He pulled a metal box from a drawer and counted the money it contained. “Forty pounds. Enough for a dress or two, eh?” With a chuckle, he handed it to Riel.
Lucinda gritted her teeth in annoyance. Apparently , she would have to beg Riel after all. Adopting a small, pleasant smile, she turned to the man beside her.
“If you would be so kind, Mr. Montclair? Please. Give the money to me.” She couldn’t help the faint, hostile note in her voice. “I will give it to the seamstress in the village so she can begin work today.”
How she hated begging him for money. And this was just the beginning. Her spirits sank still further. He had all but gained his objective. In three short days—unless she somehow discovered a way to extricate herself from this distressing quagmire—he would win the permanent victory.
What triumph he must be feeling. What satisfaction.
Lifting her chin, she forced herself to meet his dark, pirate eyes. But instead of the triumph she’d expected to see, she saw soberness. As if he fully realized the great responsibility he had taken on.
He rumbled, “How many black gowns do you have?”
“This one.”
He nodded. “One more can be made.”
“One!” Lucinda sat a little straighter. Here it was. The beginning of his authoritarian rule. “One will not suffice. I need at least two. Preferably more.”
Mr. Chase laughed loudly, clearly feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sure you can come to an agreement later.” He stood and extended his hand. “I’ll see you both on Friday, then.”
A clear dismissal. Equally clear, Mr. Chase would be no champion for her. He want ed to wash his hands of the mess and return to his comfortable life.
She followed Riel into the bright sunlight and the awaiting carriage. She settled herself inside, properly arranged her skirts, and waited until the driver shut the door. Anger and frustration seethed in her bosom. A jerk, and they moved toward the seamstress’s house.
“Is this the way it will be?” she said grimly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean are you relishing this? From now on you can squish me under your thumb, and deny my every wish.”
“Is this only about the dresses?”
“No! And well you know it.”
His dark eyes held hers. “Rest assured, you will be provided with all you require.”
She glared. “I cannot live off a few garments in a canvas bag.”
“I understand that you will need more black gowns, Lucy. But one extra will serve for now. You will need new dresses for the upcoming Season, as well. Your mourning period will be finished by then.”
“I realize that,” Lucinda managed to speak in a reasonable tone. “However, I do not think two new black dresses would be extravagant. I have no intention of spending all of my clothing allowance now.” In truth, the idea that buying too many gowns now might crimp the number of gowns she could purchase for the Season had not entered her head.
It would have, however, once she’d given it more thought.
“We will commission one gown for now,” Riel told her. “Then I will study the ledgers and see how many more can be made.”
The man was unbending, and it scraped on her last nerve. “Very well.” Lucinda crossed her arms. “I would like to see the ledgers, too.
Hugh Cave
Caren J. Werlinger
Jason Halstead
Lauren Blakely
Sharon Cullars
Melinda Barron
Daniela Fischerova, Neil Bermel
TASHA ALEXANDER
ADAM L PENENBERG
Susan Juby