“That shade of red is astonishing,” Hester said from where she sat up in her bed. Surrounded by mountains of pillows she looked small and very youthful, although the décor of her rooms was undeniably adult. In fact, Jess found her sister’s private space far more shocking than the bolt of material Hester was considering. Unlike the relentless cheeriness that distinguished the rest of the house, Hester’s bedroom and boudoir were decorated in shades of grayish blue, charcoal, and off white. The overall effect was dramatic, but also quite somber. Not what Jess would have expected at all.
“Quite daring,” Lady Pennington agreed over the lip of her teacup.
Jess returned her attention to the blood-red silk, helplessly drawn to what it would signify to Alistair—that he had changed her, made her bolder, helped her find an inner peace she’d never dreamed was possible. “I have no notion of when I would have an occasion to wear a dress made of this material.”
“Wear it in private,” Hester suggested.
Glancing at Elspeth, Jess bit her lower lip and wondered how this conversation was impacting the woman who’d been like a mother to her for the past several years. Would she resent Jess’s efforts to move forward with her life?
“My dear girl,” Elspeth said, meeting her gaze. “Don’t fret on my account. Benedict loved you. He would have wanted you to be as happy as possible. I want that for you, as well.”
Jess’s eyes stung and she looked away quickly. “Thank you.”
“It is I who must thank you,” the countess said. “As short as Benedict’s life was, you filled his last years with tremendous joy. I will forever be indebted to you for that.”
Movement from the bed caught Jess’s eye. Hester had leaned forward to run her hands over the luxurious material. The modiste extolled its virtues in a hushed but rapturous tone, which perfectly suited the thoughts that would accompany the sight of a woman draped in such decadence.
“Perhaps you can use it just on the bodice?” Hester suggested. “Paired with a cream satin or even a heavier damask? Or just on the sleeves? Or as trim?”
“No,” Jess murmured, crossing her arms. “The whole gown must be made of it, with a draped bodice and a low back.”
“C’est magnifique!” the modiste exclaimed, beaming and snapping her fingers at her two assistants to begin taking measurements.
A white-capped maid entered and curtsied. “Lady Tarley. Something has arrived for you. Would you like me to bring it to you here?”
Jess frowned. “Is there a reason I must see it now? Can you put it in my room?”
“It came with instructions to deliver it to you immediately.”
“Intriguing. Yes, bring it here.”
“Whatever could it be?” Hester asked. “Have you any clue, Jess?”
“None at all.” Although she prayed it would be from Alistair, whatever it was. Their separation of only a few days was fraying her equanimity. If not for Hester’s precarious health and need of near-constant prodding to eat, Jess would have gone to him by now.
A few moments later, the maid reappeared carrying a handled basket. She set it down on the floor, and it rocked to and fro. A soft whine from the interior lured Jess closer.
“What is that?” Lady Pennington asked, setting her cup and saucer aside.
Jess bent down and lifted the basket’s lid, gasping at the sight of the tiny pug puppy stumbling around the lined interior.
“Look at you,” she breathed, instantly in love. She reached in carefully to pick up the tiny creature and laughed in delight at the feel of its soft, warm, and wriggling body.
“Dear God,” Hester cried. “It’s a dog.”
That only made Jess laugh harder. Sitting back on her heels, she set the energetic pug in her lap and looked at the metal tag hanging from its red leather collar.
Acheron, it said on one side, causing a pang in her chest. The other side said simply, All my love, ALC.
“Who sent that creature?” the countess asked.
“Baybury, I would guess,” Hester said, sounding wistful.
Jess retrieved the sealed missive that hung from the basket’s handle by a black ribbon. The crest in the wax was a sharp reminder of who Alistair was now, but she pushed it aside and clung to her determination to fight for him.
My dearest, obstinate Jess,
May the enclosed little friend bring you joy. I pray he endlessly reminds you of the one who gifts him to you. I have tasked him with watching over you and protecting you, for I know he will love you to distraction as I do.
Her Grace requests that I attend the Treadmore masquerade five days hence. I told her I would go only if my betrothed did. I would brave any and all such hells to see you.
Please give my best regards to your sister for her speedy return to health. I can well understand her decline in your absence. I, too, am suffering the ill effects of it.
Yours always,
Alistair
There was a drawing with the missive, a rendering of her lying on the dais in the gazebo he’d built on the island. Her eyes were unfocused, dreamy and wistful, her lips plumped by fierce kisses and her hair in tumbling disarray around her bare shoulders. Her head was propped in one hand, her torso draped in the nearly translucent lawn of her chemise. Alistair hadn’t brought his supplies with him that day, which meant this intimate image of her in an unguarded moment had been stored in his mind and savored later.
“Don’t cry, Jess!” Hester said, alarmed when tears fell from Jess’s lashes.
“Is everything all right, dear?” the countess asked, rising gracefully to her feet and approaching. “Are you mourning your Temperance?”
Jess hugged Acheron and the letter that accompanied him to her heart. “No. Although thinking of her reminds me again of how quicksilver life is. Benedict was the healthiest and hardiest man I knew. Alistair has lost three siblings. Hester and I lost our mother. We cannot afford to throw away happiness. We have to fight for it and claim it.”
Elspeth crouched beside Jess and held out her hands for Acheron. “How adorable you are,” she cooed when Jess passed him over.
Jess stood and eyed the red silk again. “I now have an occasion to wear the red.”
“God help the man,” Hester said, but with a sparkle in her green eyes.
“It is too late for that now.” Jess lifted her arms to be measured. “He is well and truly caught.”