There were four sales associates—Nerissa whispered to me that was what they were called—one assigned to each of us, and a woman who seemed to be directing them all. Her name was Hilde.
All of the women looked tired but were forcing bright smiles and a perkiness that belied their fatigue. I felt bad for them. They had probably worked all day and would have to work tomorrow, and Roman had made sure they weren’t going to have an early night of it. But money talked, and they were here to make what would no doubt be a tidy commission.
“What style of wedding will it be? The . . . gentleman . . . who arranged your fitting said that it’s to be a formal affair. We’ve brought in every red gown we could find, and black . . . for the bridesmaids. I suppose that we should get the brides taken care of first, so we can match the bridesmaids’ dresses.” Hilde looked a little frightened, come to think of it.
“Please relax. We hate putting you to this trouble.” I smiled at her, trying to ease the tension.
“No problem at all, miss. We’ve done vampire weddings before. But thank you. It was rather last minute and I hope we can fix everything to your liking. We have all our seamstresses on hand to fix whatever we can if the dresses need to be altered. Since we don’t sell the same dress twice—all our dresses are original—these won’t be samples so we should be able to find something in your sizes. While they won’t be custom, Lord Roman assured me that would be fine as long as they look elegant.”
I nodded. Roman had, once again, thought of everything. But given how quickly this was being pulled together—especially for a court event—I wondered what else was going on behind the scenes. “The dresses do need to be formal, but to be honest, I’m not particularly that picky. I would prefer my dress to have sleeves, though, and lace up around the neck, if possible. I have . . . scars.” I hated showing others my scars but bit the bullet.
Hilde nodded. “Karen, please take Miss—Menolly, right?—Menolly’s measurements and start pulling dresses. Linda—you take . . .”
“Nerissa. And I just want to make certain I don’t look like a frilly cupcake.” Nerissa smirked. “I honestly don’t look good in orange red, so if you could find a gown with bluish undertones, that would be fantastic.”
“Well, we should be able to find you something that will look stunning. Linda, please take Nerissa’s measurements.” She moved over, directing the other associates to measure Delilah and Camille while we were waiting. A few minutes later, after a bustle and flurry of tape measures, Linda and Karen vanished through an archway.
“I feel like I’m in some surreal movie . . . Night of the Living Brides, or something.” I whispered, keeping my voice low, not wanting to offend Hilde. After all, it wasn’t her fault we were shopping for wedding dresses at one in the morning.
Nerissa stifled a snort. “Brides of the Living Dead?”
Camille and Delilah looked a little dazed, and I realized they were tired. “I’m sorry you had to come. I guess Roman just assumed . . .”
“Roman assumes a lot, but he’s right. We’re going with you to that wedding, and if anybody gets to be your bridesmaids, it’s us. Just promise me that we don’t have to give blood to the groom or anything like that.” Camille leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, and closed her eyes while we waited.
A few minutes later, the associates returned, each trailing a garment rack behind them. Each rack contained several red gowns. The majority were a deep crimson, a few were burgundy, and a few—a fire engine red that almost made my eyes hurt.
Karen pulled one of the dresses off the rack. “This should be your size.” She held it up.
I fell in love with it at first sight. The burgundy would go better with my hair. The dress wasn’t overwhelming—no huge hoop skirts, no Cinderella ball gown. It was a mermaid-style wedding gown, in a rich burgundy brocade, form-fitting over the bust and hips to sweep out as it came to the knees. The train was embellished with detailed tone-on-tone embroidery. The high-necked mandarin collar and cap sleeves were lace—the same burgundy—and the floral patterns embroidered on the train also adorned the gown from the waist up. While it wasn’t long sleeved, it was absolutely exquisite in its simple elegance.
“I didn’t know I could fall in love with a dress.” I hesitantly reached out to run my fingers over the material. “I love this. I could wear this as a ball gown, too.” Because to me, my actual wedding dress would always be the dress my mother wore when she married my father—the one Camille and Delilah had secretly altered for me when I married Nerissa. This dress? While it signified an important event, this dress was one I’d wear a second time, that I wouldn’t want to put in a showcase and keep forever as a memory.
Nerissa nodded her approval. “Mine should match yours in color and a similar style.”