The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Seventeen

“And this one,” the modiste said, holding up yet another fashion plate, “would accentuate your petite frame. Might I recommend you get it with a pink organza overlay?”

Dinah took the plate and looked at it closely. It was a lovely dress—though, if it were up to her, she’d drop the shoulders a bit, bring the fabric in more snug just below the breast, and add a bit of lace to the hem. She shook her head, handing the plate back.

“It is lovely, but not quite right.”

“Are you certain?” Emily asked, sitting beside her. “I think it is a beautiful dress.”

Dinah gave her sister-in-law a smile. It was a beautiful dress, but she suspected Emily wished Dinah would agree to the dress more so that she could rest easy knowing all was in order for the ball, not because she actually thought it would be the best dress for Dinah.

With a sigh, Dinah picked up a fashion plate she’d discarded before. She shouldn’t be causing Emily so much unnecessary stress. The sweet woman was overly anxious about the possibility of reconciling with her parents; she didn’t need Dinah fouling things up over a dress.

But no, Dinah couldn’t find it within herself to like this other dress either—the cut was wrong for her frame, she was sure of it. She put the plate back down, pulling her lips to the side. She needed to decide on something. The ball was in only a couple more weeks.

“If I may, your ladyship,” the modiste said humbly, “is there something specific you’re wishing for? If you can describe it to me, I may have better luck in locating it.”

Dinah sat back, her eyes moving across the parlor, but not seeing much of it. She found she did indeed have a clear idea of what she wanted. Something low on the shoulders, with a sweeping neckline, but not too low. A dress that hung close to her around the stomach but loosened ever so slightly around her thighs, for easy dancing. Though she’d always felt she looked good in soft pink, now that she was married, she wanted to try something a bit more bold. Perhaps a deep red? Or a royal blue?

Dinah opened her mouth to say all she had on her mind, only . . . she hesitated. This modiste—the third Emily had brought in—would no doubt make Dinah a very fine dress indeed. But where would be the fun in that? Sending the woman off with some ideas and a choice in fabric . . . then sitting about, waiting for the thing to be made and sent to her?

Dinah sat up straighter. “I do know what I want, actually.”

Both women waited to hear what she would say next.

“I want to make my own dress.”

The modiste looked at her quite like she had no idea how to respond to such a declaration.

Emily, on the other hand, wasn’t so silent. “You cannot be serious.”

“Why not?” Dinah asked.

Emily leaned in and spoke low. “You are the wife of an earl. It is not done.”

“I would rather say it is the other way around,” Dinah said, “I am the wife of an earl, therefore, who cares what society believes I should or should not occupy my time with? It’s not as though sewing a dress is immoral.” If it was, everyone who was raised outside of the haut ton was rather in danger of losing their souls.

“Of course not,” Emily said, but her fingers twisted about one another. “Only . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Dinah said, placing a hand on Emily’s arm. “I promise this isn’t my first time working with dresses. I’ve taken in and altered more than I care to admit.”

“But this will be your first time creating a dress from bolts of fabric?” Emily guessed.

“Yes,” Dinah had to admit.

“That cannot be so simple, then, as what you are used to,” Emily pressed.

Dinah glanced at the modiste, but the woman seemed content to remain silent and let her talk it out with Emily.

“No doubt,” Dinah said, “you are correct. Making a dress is not the same as taking a dress already created and changing it a bit. But I love a good challenge, and I know I am up to the task.” She didn’t like the idea of giving Emily more to stress about, but honestly, Dinah’s dress was not going to impact the rebuilding of the relationship between Emily and her parents. Truthfully, Dinah doubted Emily’s parents would care one way or another what she wore. No matter what society may or may not say, Dinah wanted to do this. She wanted to try her hand at designing and sewing her own dress.

She turned toward the modiste, years of listening in on her father making trade agreements coming back in an instant. “I would love your expert thoughts, however, on fabrics. Show me what you have, and perhaps I’ll simply buy it straight from you.”

* * *

The names Dinah had given him were proving useful indeed. Henry had passed the names on to Mr. Harding and was still waiting final word, but the few letters he’d had from the man indicated that these new leads were promising. It was hard to wait, but he’d learned in the past two years that waiting was often what a spy had to do. It was work, work, work then wait, wait, wait. Push hard to find something, then sit back and see where it leads.

Oftentimes, it led to nothing.

Sometimes to only more waiting.

But on the off chance this was that rare moment it might lead to something actionable, Henry would be ready.

“Are you ready?” David asked, poking his head in Henry’s office.

Henry smiled ruefully at his brother’s timely question. “Of course.” He stood from his desk, placing his latest letter from Mr. Harding away in the desk before David could see the contents. He tugged down his jacket and crossed the room to the door.

Together they moved out of the house and toward the stables.

“Your wife is causing quite a stir . . . again,” David said at length.

“Oh?” Henry asked.

“Emily has informed me that day before last, Dinah decided to sew her own dress for the ball.”

Henry’s stride slowed. “Sew her own? Whatever for?” Surely she understood that he would gladly pay for any dress she wanted, no matter the cost.

David shrugged. “Something about Dinah welcoming the challenge and feeling she can rise to the occasion.”

Henry chuckled softly. Now that sounded like his Dinah. “I have no doubt she shall.”

David shook his head. “Society will tear her to shreds if she doesn’t.” He paused for a minute, the stables looming nearer with every step. “I have to say, I was quite happy when I first heard you were getting married.”

Henry’s brow dropped. “Are you saying you aren’t now?”

“No, nothing like that.” Yet his tone didn’t sound convincing. “It is only that she is not at all the woman I expected. She’s very . . .”

Feisty? Bold? Beautiful?

“Headstrong,” David finally settled on.

Henry nodded; she was that too.

They arrived at the stables, and Lewis came walking out leading a small, tan-colored mare.

“Here she is, my lord.”

Henry ran his hand down the mare’s neck, then moved around the horse completely. She looked healthy. Young, too. Dinah would have many fine years riding this horse.

“Excellent job, Lewis. She is everything you said she would be.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

David watched on. “How ever did you manage to purchase a mare at this time of year?”

Henry stroked the horse’s neck once more. “Where there’s a will, David, there’s a way.” She seemed a gentle mare, too. Part of him was glad, as he didn’t relish the idea of Dinah on a spirited steed. Even though part of him knew that deep in her heart, Dinah would prefer a spirited steed.

“What’s her name?” Henry asked Lewis.

“Cecilia, if it pleases you.”

“Cecilia,” Henry repeated. The mare turned his way, then tossed her head and went back to investigating the grass. Yes, she seemed a fine mare for Dinah.

“Please send word to Dinah that I should like her to meet me out here,” he instructed Lewis.

Instead of hurrying off, as Henry expected the stable hand to do, Lewis hesitated.

“I mean no disrespect, my lord, only . . . there is a matter of urgent business I need to speak to you about.” His gaze jumped to David and back again. “In private.”

David, good-natured man that he was, waved a hand and took a step back. “I was returning to the house anyways. I will let Dinah know to meet you out here.”

Once David was out of earshot, Henry took a step toward Lewis.

“Well?”

“There are rumors going about. I never heard much more than it had something to do with Lady Stanton”—Henry felt he was finally getting used to hearing that title—“and a man called Crow?”

Thathe wasn’t at ease hearing, however. His jaw tightened. It wasn’t hard to imagine that word had spread that ‘Crow’ had helped Dinah and Adele escape. Still, he didn’t like that the name he had used while working as a smuggler was being connected to Dinah.

“Then,” Lewis continued, “one night, whiles I was at the pub, a man sat down next to me. Started asking all sorts of questions.”

“Such as?”

Lewis shrugged. “Strange stuff. Askin’ if Lady Stanton was blonde. Askin’ if she ever left London. He even asked after you. If’n you had been away from London as of late. I figured it weren’t hurt to say you had been, earlier this year, since it was no great secret. Then he wanted to know where you’d been and why. I shut up right quick after that, I can tell you.”

He would have preferred if Lewis had ‘shut up’ before then. Still, he didn’t suppose the man could have guessed why answering such questions—facts that nearly anyone knew, regardless—would be a problem.

“What did he look like?” Henry asked.

“Carrot-top, he was.”

That didn’t help much. “Any unique characteristics? A scar or a limp, perhaps?” Not that Henry knew any men like that, but still, it might help.

“Not that I noticed. Oh, but he did have a very fine ring on his smallest finger.” Lewis tapped the side of his left hand. “He dressed like a farmer, but that ring”—Lewis let out a whistle—“made me think he slipped it off the hand of royalty or something.”

Finch. Henry slowly shut his eyes. He’d known the man would be trouble when he had been forced to face off with him to save Dinah and Adele. So then, was the man asking around because . . . he wanted revenge? Finch had been arrested thanks to Henry, but then he’d escaped. Whatever the reason, it filled him with much unease to think that there was a man as manipulative as Finch asking about Dinah.

“Thank you for telling me,” Henry said.

“Of course, my lord.” Lewis nodded toward something behind Henry. “Her ladyship is headed this way.”

Henry glanced behind him and found Dinah hurrying their direction. He dismissed Lewis and then turned, holding the reins out toward her.

“My lady,” he said, “your horse.”

She stopped just in front of him, her gaze moving toward the mare. “She’s . . . mine?”

“Yours and no one else’s.”

She grew suddenly still, far more so than he’d ever seen her. Her eyes grew wide, and in a sudden burst of movement, she flung her arms around his neck.

“Thank you!”

Henry froze. Of all the ways he’d predicted Dinah might react, hugging him had not been one of them.

She pulled back just as suddenly as she’d flung herself at him, her smile wide enough to nearly crack her face in two. With a squeal of delight and a small clap of her hands, she turned to the horse.

“What’s her name?” she asked, petting the mare affectionately.

Henry tried to shake off the feel of her pressed up close to him, but the memory refused to leave. “Cecilia,” he muttered. He’d not even had time to return the hug, something he now sorely regretted.

“She’s lovely,” Dinah said, then stood and turned his way. “Does this mean you and I are going out riding this afternoon?”

He struggled to find words, so strongly did her hug still cling to him. “If you wish it.”

She clapped again. “I cannot wait.”

Henry stood by and watched as she requested that Lewis saddle Cecilia and then bring around a mounting block. She was riding in only a few minutes, and it appeared Cecilia was taking to Dinah as quickly as she was to the horse.

She rode off a few strides and then turned and cantered back. Henry took the reins of his own horse when Lewis brought him out. But the longer he watched Dinah, the heavier his heart grew. Worries over Finch crept back into his mind. He needed to tell Dinah what Lewis had heard and said to Finch.

Dinah smiled brightly at him before turning away and riding off once more.

He would tell her, but not just now. For now, he would let her enjoy the moment.