Page 48 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

Madame Auberte regarded Josie and then Bridget. “Lovely. And you both require gowns for Lady Siddons’s Spring Blossoms Ball?” sheasked, with barely a hint of a French accent.

Bridget frowned. “I don’t, but Josephine does.”

How unfair. Nicolas should be buying a gown for his sister instead of her. Pointy spikes of guilt poked Josie’s chest.

“Why don’t you peruse the fabrics?” Madame said. “Find something you love, Josephine, and I will be with you momentarily. Mayhap a satin or a silk?”

“So, you will be able to make something in time?” Agatha asked.

“For you, my lady, of course. You are my favorite customer,” Madame said.

Although Elise Auberte probably said this to all her customers, Josie suspected the sentiment was sincere. The dowager countess was beyond generous and kind. As suspicious and critical as Josie could be, she would gladly put up with the viscountess’s endless lessons if only she could truly be a cousin to such an endearing matriarch.

“Diana, come with me,” Agatha said. “We shall look through fabrics over there.” She pointed to a large open-faced cabinet.

Bridget guided Josie toward a display of rainbow-colored silks.

Josie ran her hands over the fabrics as if petting a kitten. They were soft and decadent—and all wrong. She was not satin, lace, and silk; she was muslin, linen, and wool.

Was it too late to change her mind? Could she simply refuse the loan from Nicolas and borrow a gown from his sister? If so, then Bridget could have the new gown made.

“I am so very sorry,” Josie said.

“Whatever for?” Bridget asked.

“That Nicolas has offered to purchase my dress,” Josie said. “I am afraid it will be a waste of money and would be much better spent on you. You have a chance of making a match at the ball. I do not.”

But if you don’t look lovely, you don’t stand a chance of piquing the duke’s interest, and then he will not propose, and Nicolas will lose everything.

With all of this fretting, Josie’s common sense had turned to faulty logic. Even if she willed it with all her heart, it simply did not matter.Dukes did not propose to pugilists. Well, except for Lord Paulsgrove. But Lady P. was the daughter of a wealthy baron, so she didn’t count. And Lord Ashleyshire. But his wife was an earl’s sister. Nicolas and Bridget Wentworth were about to lose everything. Josie swallowed a silent scream.

Wearing a dreamy expression, Bridget fingered a bright red silk that suited her brown hair and blue eyes.

“I think ’tis extravagant to have a new gown made for every ball,” Bridget said. “And I have no intention of making a match.”

It wasn’t Josie’s business, but she asked anyway. “Because you are attracted to Jonathon?”

Bridget’s eyes widened. “Not at all. Jonathon is quite charming and exceedingly handsome, but I have no desire to marry some aristocrat and be a broodmare. The thought of being Jonathon’sfiancéeis utterly ridiculous.” She chuckled. “I simply enjoy tormenting my brother, and it vexes him when I show Jonathon favor.”

Josie choked on her laugh.

“I’m sure you noticed my brother frets and worries. A lot.”

What an understatement. Trying to hide heryes-I-noticedface, Josie made her way to the green silks, Bridget by her side.

“Did you see the lovely book Nicolas purchased for me?” Bridget asked.

Images of Nicolas sauntering into the drawing room, looking as handsome as any fairytale prince, a package under his arm, swarmed Josie’s mind. “He told me about it.”

“He is such a good brother, and I am a terrible sister. I suppose I should not be so incorrigible, but I seem to have been born with a troublesome bee buzzing about in my blood.”

That made two of them. “He adores you,” Josie said.

“He has always been kind and responsible, but he was not this fretful and overwrought until our older brother passed away.”

“I am sorry,” Josie said, feeling guilty for how she’d poked at him at first.

“George over-imbibed and then climbed onto his horse.” Unshed tears glistened in Bridget’s eyes. “Our father is a wastrel, and our mother is quite fragile. Nicolas gave up his dreams of traveling the continent to come home to care for us. He never complains, but I know he is sad. I see it in his eyes.”