Page 7 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“Right,” Annie said. “You’re in. There’s a bit more to you than there is of Lady Huntingdon.”

That was true. The dress might be lovely, but at the moment it felt like a lovely cage. The bodice was so tight that it forced my spine absolutely straight – there was no chance of slouching.

In a way, it helped. I felt made of steel, and I lifted my chin to match my posture.

“All right, Queen Victoria,” Annie murmured. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

The corner of my mouth tugged up, but I forced my face to stay serene.

I swept through the curtains, my steps as gliding as Madame could wish.

“Ah, ’ere is Iris now,” Madame cried, and the indulgent look she gave me would have fooled most people into believing I was the daughter she’d never had. I pinned a smile to my face, even as I fought the urge to stare at Nicholas Wynter.

It was extremely difficult.

He stood in the corner of the room, one elbow propped up on a cabinet. His tall body possessed a certain grace even when he was standing still. He gave the impression of a big cat – a leopard, perhaps – poised to unfurl himself. He was not a large man, but he seemed to take up a lot of space. I was surprised by how young he was – he must have been only in his early twenties. I had assumed a man who commanded such authority over society would be older, more established.

He wore a beautiful dark blue jacket, perfectly cut, and a waistcoat that was a trifle too ostentatious for my taste, embroidered in heavy gold thread. In one hand he held a polished wooden cane with a gold handle. There was a white rose in his lapel. His hair was very dark, and he wore it slightly longer than most. His features were a series of hard, sharp lines. From the cut-glass cheekbones to the square jaw, he looked as if he had been sketched by a decisive hand.

But it was his eyes that made him impossible to ignore. Ice-cold blue eyes, their touch a shiver across the skin. Those eyes were older than the rest of him, full of the sort of lazy amusement that I could easily see would cause people to wilt.

It had the opposite effect on me.

Despite my intention to remain inconspicuous, I lifted my own gaze and met his assessing stare full on.

I did not smile.

For a moment it was as if the rest of the world fell away. The lazy look disappeared, sharpened, until all that remained was the challenge in those cold eyes. His face was still, but after a long moment a small pucker appeared between his brows. Whether it was because he disliked what he saw I wasn’t sure, but he turned away, and the spell was broken. The room rushed back in, and I realized that my pulse was racing.

I pasted a vapid smile on my face, and shook out the skirts of the dress, ready to be admired like a china doll.

“Well, Teresa,” Nicholas Wynter said, “I think you might actually have found something after all.” His voice was a dry rustle of autumn leaves.

I finally noticed the woman he was with – curvy, dark-haired and a little younger than him. She had risen from the sofa where Madame had plied her with tea and biscuits, and she stepped closer, her face wreathed in smiles.

“And you thought I’d never get a dress so late as this,” she exclaimed and turned to Madame. “I hadn’t planned to be in town for the ball, but then my husband got detained on business and I thought why not stay a little longer? Lord Wynter offered to come and help me choose a dress.” Her eyes returned to Nicholas, as if seeking his approval. “It’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Very beautiful.” Nicholas too moved forward. There was still more than an arm’s length between us, but it felt as if he was closer. “Though not, I think, the right colour for you. Blue or purple would be best.”

Teresa pouted, but Madame swept in, effusive. “The gentleman ’as a verrrry good eye.” Madame clicked her fingers. “Iris, we weel show the purple silk next, I think, for Madame.”

It was a dismissal and I picked up my skirts, glad to escape even temporarily, though determined not to show it.

Madame and Teresa continued to chatter, but Lord Wynter was silent.

Even with my back turned, I felt him watching me as I left.

CHAPTER FOUR

In the end, Teresa took the purple silk. Lord Wynter was right; it suited her perfectly. She also ordered a lilac day dress, and a pale blue evening gown for delivery at a later date.

I thought Madame’s Cheshire-cat grin was going to split her face. A future princess ordering a new wardrobe, and the approval of the most fashionable man in London – it had been quite the week for her.

That fashionable man himself, though, had seemed largely bored throughout the whole affair. Only once did he become truly animated, and that was when he vehemently rejected Teresa’s suggestion that she buy a hat with an ostentatiously dyed-green ostrich feather curling at the front. I couldn’t blame him for that – the hat had been sitting in the shop for months.

While Madame and Teresa disappeared to measure her for the necessary alterations, I took the opportunity to slip away. The purple gown was less constricting than the green one, but I was still finding it hard to catch my breath in Lord Wynter’s presence.

“One moment, Miss…” His voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned reluctantly to face him. I let the silence hang heavy in the air for a moment longer. He lifted an eyebrow, making it clear he was in no hurry and could wait as long as it took. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes.