The Mysterious Miss M. Diane Gaston

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 had noticed the admiring glances of the men and appraising looks of the women. He could not help but be proud to be Madeleine’s escort. Beautiful even in her own ill-fitting frock, she quite took his breath away in her new walking dress.

      ‘You look lovely,’ he whispered back.

      This news did not appear to cheer her. She furrowed her brow. Too bad some choice piece of horseflesh did not come into view to distract her.

      Devlin caught sight of a shop window. ‘We must go in here.’ He pulled her into the shop. ‘Must not forget our girl.’

      They entered a toy store with shelf after shelf of dolls, toy soldiers, and miniature coaches and wagons. An exquisite wax doll with real hair as dark and curly as Linette’s caught Devlin’s eye. He vowed he must purchase it for Linette. Madeleine adamantly refused, saying the child was too young to care for such a treasure. He settled instead for a porcelain-faced baby doll, a ball and blocks. As he finished giving the direction for the toys to be delivered that afternoon, he spied a carved wooden horse and, thinking perhaps the little girl might be horse-mad like her mother, added it to his purchases.