Viscount of Vanity, Tammy Andresen [top reads txt] 📗

for looking sophisticated even in her matronly years. She came out of the backroom holding a gown of deep red and another of dark pink. “Ma chérie.” The woman smiled at her. “You must try these dresses on.”

Gabriella frowned. “You don’t have racks of already-made gowns, do you?” Such a practice was unheard of.

Madam Fleur laughed. “Goodness no. But you are a rare beauty and I would see you walking about in the worn dress. I couldn’t help myself. I fashioned these for you some time ago.”

Gabriella turned toward the other woman. “You made them for me?”

The other’s woman’s look was soft. “Don’t be so shocked. I see your beauty and I knew that some very handsome man was going to sweep in and save you. And besides, these colors were perfect for you. I’ve been hoping to dress you for years. Every dressmaker dreams of putting her creations on someone so beautiful.”

Gabriella’s smile fell. A handsome man had swept in and saved her. And she was grateful. If he were also a kind man, she’d be truly blessed.

But deep down, his restrictions made her uneasy.

Madame Fleur squinted her gaze. “What wrong, ma chérie?”

Gabriella worried her lip. “He’s been generous but…”

“But?” Madam Fleur stepped closer. “It’s all right. We are alone in this shop and you’ve been without a woman to talk to for a long time.” Then she winked. “And I have a great deal of experience with men.”

Gabriella leaned closer, the modiste’s words putting her at ease. “He told me that he wasn’t interested in…relations beyond creating children.”

Madame’s eyes grew wide and then she squeezed Gabriella’s hand. “This worries you?”

Gabriella nodded. More than anything, she wished to be emotionally connected to her husband. And the physical relations had to be part of drawing them closer to each other. “Shouldn’t a man want to be with his wife?”

Madame’s eyes softened. “You are young, and you want to be wanted. I understand.”

Did she? She supposed that she did. Her father had been dismissive in a way that was cruel. “Wanted?”

Madame Fleur winked. “You wish for your very handsome husband to ravish you with his strong arms and manly shoulders.”

Heat filled Gabriella’s cheeks. A thought of being pressed against his muscles made her breath catch. “Oh. Wanted.” Her tongue darted out and she licked her lips. “More than that, I want to be with someone who actually cares for me.”

Madame Fleur nodded. “He’s here, isn’t he? Buying you dresses. I can always read a man and he will provide for you, I am certain. If he prefers to share his bed with a different sort, at least you’ll be comfortable and secure in a good match that provides for your needs.”

Her breath stalled. A different sort? “What sort will he share his bed with?”

One of Fleur’s slender shoulders rose up. “It’s been my experience that men that aren’t that interested in relations with a woman prefer them with other men.”

Her stomach dropped to the floor. There was so much she didn’t know about the world. “Oh dear.”

Madame Fleur wagged her finger. “Don’t you worry. It’s a blessing to have a husband who won’t hound you constantly. And you’ll likely be free to come and go as you please, and once you’ve provided him with an heir or two, you’ll be able to pursue your own passions.”

Gabriella shook her head. Whatever that meant. She had some idea, of course. But the devil was in the details and despite the intimacy of this conversation she didn’t dare ask more of the modiste. “Thank you, Madame Fleur.”

The woman nodded again. “You come ask me questions, any time. Now. Let’s get you in one of these dresses.”

Twenty minutes later, they’d changed her out of the rags she’d been wearing, Madame Fleur swept them away and Gabriella felt certain they’d end up in the dressmaker’s stove. She’d been outfitted from top to bottom in new clothes from her chemise to her stockings and she barely recognized the woman who stood looking back at her in the mirror’s reflection. “Oh my.”

Madam Fleur gave her a glowing smile. “See what a fine job I’ve done fitting you without ever taking a measurement?”

Gabriella stared in amazement, turning this way then that to see the effect. The dress was a perfect fit. “You’ve a gift.”

Madame Fleur came up behind her. “You’ve a gift. Like you’ve brought this dress to life, I’ve seen you time and again in this town. You bring out the best in people.”

Gabriella shook her head. It wasn’t the truth. “If that were true, my father—”

“Your father is a bad egg. Has been his entire life. He was before he was married, before you were born. That has nothing to do with you.”

Gabriella nodded. That might be true. But was she destined to spend her life with men who held no real affection for her? That sounded dreadful.

She pressed the skirts of the dusky pink gown of soft fine wool that skimmed down her body. Did she have another option?

The bell at the front of the shop tinkled merrily and Gabriella turned, expecting to see Austin in the doorway.

Instead, four men stared at her, their eyes hard. Of course men came into dress shops to accompany their ladies, but this wasn’t the tavern. What were they doing here?

Then she recognized the man with the scar. His gaze hard on her.

“Good morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?” the modiste asked.

But they didn’t answer as they continued to stare at Gabriella. Then the scarred man stepped into the shop, moving toward her.

She swallowed a gasp.

* * *

Austin crossed the street and started for the modiste’s shop. His muscles twitched with energy as he picked up speed. Something was wrong, he could feel it deep in his gut. That’s when he heard yelling.

It came from the shop, distinctly feminine, and he cursed that he didn’t know the sound of his wife’s voice. Well, he knew her voice but not her scream, he supposed. Was it her?

But as