be square, and all sorts of other nonsense. Look here, my dear, the men will see this”—she outlined the dark crevasse of her cleavage—“and they will think lustful thoughts.”
“Mrs. Mortimer!” the girl gasped, but it was mock outrage. Helaine could see that she was thrilled at the idea. Likely she had never thought of herself as someone who could inspire carnality in any man.
“And here is the best part of all,” Helaine said. “Walk a bit. See how the light blue slippers peek out as you move? Men shall be looking to see your dainty ankles, and you do have divine ankles, my dear.”
“I do?”
“Well, of course you do! Just look.”
Francine did, and it was all Helaine could do not to laugh. The girl lifted her skirt enough to see her ankles in the mirror, and then she released a giggle. Twisting her foot left and right, she inspected her ankles from all different angles, her expression shifting to a happiness that seemed to suffuse her entire body. It flushed her cheeks, straightened her spine, and generally brought life to all of her.
“I do! I do!”
From beside the mirror, Wendy had folded her arms across her chest but was looking on with a grin. “Told you a good dresser was all you needed.” She said the words to Francine, but her eyes were on Helaine. And in the sparkle of delight, Helaine read a satisfaction that could only come from work well done. The design, the sewing, and even the slippers and necklace all combined to create a reflection that was not perfect so much as alive with joy. And joy was so much better than perfect.
“Look at yourself, Francine,” Helaine said. “Look at your face and your eyes. You are happy. You are beautiful. And that, my dear, will attract men like moths to a flame.”
Francine turned, her eyes shimmering with hope. “Do you think so?”
“Of course I do! And if you don’t believe me, then there is a man just on the other side of this curtain. I heard him come in just a few minutes ago. He is our bookkeeper and he has been sitting there most patiently. His name is Anthony and he is a man used to numbers. You know the type, I believe. Your father is such a man.”
Francine wrinkled her nose. “Yes. He’d never lie about anything even when he should.”
“Exactly. That is Anthony through and through. He will tell you exactly what he thinks.” Then she stepped forward to whisper into Francine’s ear, “And mind you watch his eyes. See where they go. I wager they will drop right here.” She gestured to the girl’s ample cleavage. “And if he blushes, then you shall know that there are lustful thoughts in his mind. Even in one so prosaic as Anthony.”
Francine giggled, but she was more than excited by the idea. Helaine waited a moment to be sure all was ready. Then she called through the curtain to the workroom behind.
“Anthony, would you mind terribly? I have something I need to ask you.”
She heard a rustle of a chair scraping backward. Her desk was there and she knew that, as their bookkeeper, he had no doubt been going over the accounts.
“Anthony?” she called again when there was no answer. Then, with a wink to Francine, she hauled open the curtain.
There, sitting in the center of her workroom, was
not
Anthony. It was Lord Redhill.
Chapter 4
Robert hadn’t known what to expect when the curtain parted between workroom and showroom. Of course he’d heard the women’s voices, even knew that the enterprising Mrs. Mortimer was one of them. But he had not expected to come eye to bosom with a young girl of a decidedly lush figure.
He leaped to his feet, as did Anthony beside him, at the very same moment that Mrs. Mortimer squeaked in alarm.
“Lord Redhill!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Robert forcibly dragged his eyes away from the girl turned nymph. And not an anemic nymph as drawn in children’s books, but the kind pictured on Greek vases. “My God, woman, what have you done to the girl?”
“I’m
“Mrs. Mortimer!” the girl gasped, but it was mock outrage. Helaine could see that she was thrilled at the idea. Likely she had never thought of herself as someone who could inspire carnality in any man.
“And here is the best part of all,” Helaine said. “Walk a bit. See how the light blue slippers peek out as you move? Men shall be looking to see your dainty ankles, and you do have divine ankles, my dear.”
“I do?”
“Well, of course you do! Just look.”
Francine did, and it was all Helaine could do not to laugh. The girl lifted her skirt enough to see her ankles in the mirror, and then she released a giggle. Twisting her foot left and right, she inspected her ankles from all different angles, her expression shifting to a happiness that seemed to suffuse her entire body. It flushed her cheeks, straightened her spine, and generally brought life to all of her.
“I do! I do!”
From beside the mirror, Wendy had folded her arms across her chest but was looking on with a grin. “Told you a good dresser was all you needed.” She said the words to Francine, but her eyes were on Helaine. And in the sparkle of delight, Helaine read a satisfaction that could only come from work well done. The design, the sewing, and even the slippers and necklace all combined to create a reflection that was not perfect so much as alive with joy. And joy was so much better than perfect.
“Look at yourself, Francine,” Helaine said. “Look at your face and your eyes. You are happy. You are beautiful. And that, my dear, will attract men like moths to a flame.”
Francine turned, her eyes shimmering with hope. “Do you think so?”
“Of course I do! And if you don’t believe me, then there is a man just on the other side of this curtain. I heard him come in just a few minutes ago. He is our bookkeeper and he has been sitting there most patiently. His name is Anthony and he is a man used to numbers. You know the type, I believe. Your father is such a man.”
Francine wrinkled her nose. “Yes. He’d never lie about anything even when he should.”
“Exactly. That is Anthony through and through. He will tell you exactly what he thinks.” Then she stepped forward to whisper into Francine’s ear, “And mind you watch his eyes. See where they go. I wager they will drop right here.” She gestured to the girl’s ample cleavage. “And if he blushes, then you shall know that there are lustful thoughts in his mind. Even in one so prosaic as Anthony.”
Francine giggled, but she was more than excited by the idea. Helaine waited a moment to be sure all was ready. Then she called through the curtain to the workroom behind.
“Anthony, would you mind terribly? I have something I need to ask you.”
She heard a rustle of a chair scraping backward. Her desk was there and she knew that, as their bookkeeper, he had no doubt been going over the accounts.
“Anthony?” she called again when there was no answer. Then, with a wink to Francine, she hauled open the curtain.
There, sitting in the center of her workroom, was
not
Anthony. It was Lord Redhill.
Chapter 4
Robert hadn’t known what to expect when the curtain parted between workroom and showroom. Of course he’d heard the women’s voices, even knew that the enterprising Mrs. Mortimer was one of them. But he had not expected to come eye to bosom with a young girl of a decidedly lush figure.
He leaped to his feet, as did Anthony beside him, at the very same moment that Mrs. Mortimer squeaked in alarm.
“Lord Redhill!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Robert forcibly dragged his eyes away from the girl turned nymph. And not an anemic nymph as drawn in children’s books, but the kind pictured on Greek vases. “My God, woman, what have you done to the girl?”
“I’m
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