Innocence in Regency Society: The Mysterious Miss M / Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress. Diane Gaston

I enjoyed feeling the soil in my hands, though.’

      Such a small space of geography in which to spend more than three years. ‘I wish Farley to the devil.’

      She gave him a look. It struck him as almost the same expression Sophie bestowed on Bart.

      As they stood at the entrance to a shop with an elegant brass nameplate saying ‘Madame Emeraude’, Madeleine shrank back. Devlin had to practically pull her into the establishment. She held her fingers to the hood of her cloak, covering her face.

      A modishly dressed woman emerged from the back. ‘May I be of assistance?’

      Since Madeleine had turned away, Devlin spoke. ‘Good morning. Madame Emeraude, I collect?’

      The woman nodded.

      Devlin gestured to Madeleine. ‘The young lady is in need of some new dresses.’

      ‘Certainly, sir. Shall I show you some fashion plates, or do you have certain styles in mind?’

      It irritated Devlin that the dressmaker addressed him directly instead of Madeleine, as if Madeleine were his fancy piece to dress as he wished, but, he supposed, in this neighbourhood, her clientele were almost exclusively from the demimonde.

      ‘Shall we step into the other room?’ She gestured elegantly.

      He pulled Madeleine along to the private dressing room in the back. ‘The young lady is in somewhat of a fix. You see, she has only the dress she wears and we were hopeful to purchase something already made up.’

      Understanding lit the woman’s eyes. ‘Let me see her.’

      Since Madeleine was acting like a stick, Devlin had no choice but to treat her that way. He turned her toward the dressmaker and removed the cloak that obscured her.

      ‘Oh,’ said the woman in surprise. ‘Miss M, is it not? How delightful to see you again.’

      ‘How do you do, ma’am,’ Madeleine murmured politely, though Devlin did not miss the splotches of red on her cheeks.

      ‘Deuce,’ said Devlin.

      ‘Why, I believe I have a dress ready for you,’ said Madame Emeraude helpfully. ‘Do you recall we fitted it not a fortnight ago? Wait a moment and I shall see—’

      ‘No!’ Madeleine cried.

      Devlin interceded, putting his arm around Madeleine. ‘We do not wish that dress.’

      Madame Emeraude looked from the one of them to the other. ‘I see. It is a new day, is it not? Well, I am pleased for you, miss. That other one was charming, but I shall have no business with him, I tell you, until he pays—’ She caught herself. ‘I beg pardon. I only meant I wish you well, Miss M.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Madeleine said, continuing to look miserable.

      Madame Emeraude smiled and began to consider her, stepping around her. ‘Oh, my,’ she said as she saw the open laces of Madeleine’s dress. ‘This dress does not fit. No, no, no. This will never, never do.’

      ‘You see our predicament.’ Devlin smiled. Madeleine fixed her interest on the floor.

      ‘Let me show you a few things I have on hand.’

      Madame Emeraude signalled an assistant, who carried in one dress after another. Madeleine seemed to regard each garment with horror. They were, Devlin thought, merely dresses. A little fancy, perhaps.

      As Madame conferred with her assistant, Madeleine whispered to him, ‘Devlin, please do not make me wear those dresses. This one I have will do, or Sophie can make me a plain one.’

      ‘What is wrong with them?’

      ‘They are not…respectable.’

      He regarded her, rubbing his chin. ‘I see.’

      When Madame Emeraude came back to them, Devlin took the woman aside and spoke to her. Madeleine watched them, the modiste nodding and looking her way. She dearly wished to leave this place where the proprietress knew her as Miss M.

      Devlin came back to her. ‘Madame Emeraude is ordering a hack. She has given me the direction of another dressmaker where we will go next.’ He held her cloak open for her. ‘I do not wish to. Let us go home, please.’ This short excursion had already been mortifying.

      ‘We will try this other place first. You need clothes, Maddy.’

      In the hack she continued trying to persuade him. ‘I believe Sophie could teach me to sew, Devlin. A piece of cloth would be enough.’

      He would not listen. He did not understand. Though it was exciting to be out among the carriages and shops, it was frightening, as well. She would always be face to face with what she was.

      Madeleine peeked out at the passing scenery, the bustle of London with the pedestrians so intent on their destinations and the tradesmen so occupied with peddling wares. She could not hide forever. How could she rear Linette if she hid? Her daughter would have to go out into that world, too. She was determined that Linette’s life be respectable, though nothing could ever change what Madeleine was inside.

      If Devlin Steele was determined she should have clothes, she was determined they be respectable ones.

      ‘Are you taking me to Bond Street?’ she asked, meaning to sound merely curious, but her voice shook.

      He smiled at her. ‘Not to Bond Street. We are directed to a modiste who dresses the worthy daughters of our bankers and merchants.’

      ‘Very well.’ Not the fashionable part of town. No chance of encountering members of the ton.

      They discovered a goldmine. The wealthy daughter of an East India merchant had abandoned her trousseau for one made at a fashionable address. The young woman was of Madeleine’s size, and the dresses were exquisitely tasteful attempts by the modiste to expand her clientele.

      Madeleine quarrelled with Devlin over the number of dresses he would purchase, wanting no more than two or three. She adamantly refused to let him include even one evening dress and would not even discuss the riding habit. His easy acquiescence in these last two matters made her momentarily suspicious, but he whisked her off to the milliner next door and a new set of arguments became necessary.

      As he made arrangements for the delivery of his final purchase of several bonnets for Madeleine and one very plain one for Sophie, Madeleine gazed in the mirror.

      She wore a pale lilac muslin walking dress adorned only by vertical tucks in the bodice edged by a plain purple ribbon. A blue spencer, lilac gloves, and a modest straw bonnet, simply adorned with a blue bow, completed the ensemble. She even carried a reticule.

      Studying herself in the glass was like gazing into the distant past.

      Devlin’s image appeared behind her. ‘You look very well, Maddy.’

      She swallowed the surge of emotion that had risen in her throat. ‘It seems like too much…’

      He held up his hand. ‘No more of that. We still need to stop by the shoemaker.’

      She opened her mouth to protest, but as he took her hand and tucked it in his arm, he quickly added, ‘Do you suppose we could convince Sophie to be measured for new shoes?’

      For all his generosity to herself, his thinking of Sophie most touched her heart. She cast him a smile. ‘Perhaps we should charge Bart with such a task.’

      He laughed as he escorted her out the door to the street. ‘Very wise idea.’

      Madeleine had an illusion of being transported to the town of her childhood. The pavement was more crowded, indeed, and the shops more varied and numerous, but it was a most respectable street, and her dress indistinguishable from other young ladies shopping. Or so she thought. She still received many curious looks.

      ‘Devlin, are you sure my appearance is acceptable?’

      Devlin