Page 76 of Stardust Child

“There’s a…before winter.” The duchess’s hands gave an anxious flutter that instantly set Mionet’s teeth on edge. “These are my guards. Sir Leonin. Sir…vi…and this is Jacot, he is…”

It was with difficulty that Mionet restrained herself from moving closer simply to hear better. Surely, she must have heard wrong; that could not be Leonin of Breuyir, the son of an earl, serving as a guard for this little mouse? What a comedown for a nobleman.

“Lady,” muttered Jacot, who was clearly as common as cobblestones and eager to be gone.

“You can take the book with you, and please finish the chapter,” the duchess said a little louder, and the boy offered a single jerky bow and departed. “Have you eaten, Lady Verr?”

“I have, Your Grace, thank you.” It was natural to offer hospitality first, but Mionet did not fancy torturing a conversation out of this creature. “Duchess Ereguil gave me a little guidance before I departed. I gather you have no lady to manage your wardrobe or bath at present?”

“No. There is a bathhouse…” The duchess’s hands moved toward several of the worst crumples in her gown as if to hide them. “Most of my clothes…storehouse.”

“Well, if you are not too tired, my lady, then perhaps we might beginthere while we get to know one another,” Mionet said brightly. “It is such fun to look at gowns, is it not? And then we may talk about the things you like, and see what ravishing costumes we might put together. Shall we?”

“All right,” agreed the duchess, as Mionet had been almost certain she would.

The maneuver served to separate the duchess from her guard dogs, who could not be hovering while they were discussing something so intimate as the lady’s clothing, though Elodie clung determinedly to her mistress, like a guard dog of the toy variety.

“It is a good range of colors,” Mionet remarked as gown after gown was drawn forth in the dim confines of the storehouse. It was really the only thing she could say in their favor. Inwardly, she was shocked and appalled as drab gown after drab gown emerged, many of them draggled, stained, blotted, crumpled, or otherwise defaced. There were only two of any real significance at all.

It was a serious problem. She had very little here to work with. And that included the duchess, who had barely spoken a dozen words.

“I was three years with Lady Carolen Sallen,” Mionet said, giving no sign of any of this. “She is the wife of Duke Ereguil’s second son, and the last ensemble we planned was for the opening of the Gold Leaf Theater. She is famous for her patronage of artists, you know. Her gown that night was a champagne-colored silk with accents in pink and melon, with tourmalines. It all looked like a sunset together, and quite smashing on a blonde.”

“There isn’t anything like that here,” said the duchess, looking both apologetic and intrigued.

“Yet,” said Mionet, with a little mischief. “But with your hair and eyes, my lady, I think perhaps…”

In a trice, she had selected a half-dozen gowns, mostly in pretty, muted colors because the lady was not confident enough for flash. Even as she chattered on, Mionet eyed her like a sculptor sizing up a likely bit of clay. The duchess had a figure to die for, and good tailoring would make a world of difference even to these drab gowns. Good hair, or at least a great deal of it, and her eyes were really rather spectacular, so large and distinctive in hue. She might be quite a smasher, if she would just stand up straight and stop flinching.

It was an unforgivable waste that she did not dress to her station,especially since everyone knew the Duke of Andelin was richer than many nations. If there was one thing Mionet Verr detested, it was to see a thing done poorly.

“Are there any colors you especially like, Your Grace?” she inquired, setting the least terrible dresses aside for further attention.

“Oh. Um, green?” The duchess’s fingers brushed over a green silk gown, probably the third best of the available dresses and still heartlessly plain. “His Grace likes me to wear green.”

Mionet made a mental note. And also noted the flush in the lady’s cheeks when she said it.

“And you, yourself?”

“Pink? Light pink,” she qualified nervously, as that color spread to the tips of her ears, and she looked down at her feet. Mionet generously shifted her attention to give the duchess room to recover.

“What do you think, Elodie?” she asked, turning to the girl, who had been in raptures to be included in such a grown-up pastime. “What gown do you like best on Her Grace?”

“Oooh, this one,” Elodie said instantly, with no shyness whatever. She held up a wine-red gown with a pretty embroidered bodice. “This one’s my favorite.”

“Oh, it is?” The duchess asked, much easier with the child. Perhaps it would be a good idea to keep the girl close at hand, at least in the beginning.

“Yes, it’s so soft, and makes you look so sweet and dear that I want to give you a hug,” Elodie said artlessly, with a triumphant glance at Mionet as Duchess Andelin exclaimed and immediately offered one.

“It is a lovely color, especially for the season,” Mionet agreed, adding it to the small pile of acceptable gowns. “Is there a tailor in town, Your Grace?”

“No, not yet. There is one coming from Belleme. Sir Tounot’s mother recommended him. Master Tiffen.” It was easier to hear the duchess’s soft voice at close quarters. “It is quite a long journey from Belleme.”

“You might be surprised what we can manage in the meantime. I have an idea,” Mionet said, tapping a fingertip to her lips. “Perhaps you will allow me to make a trial of you one morning, and surprise His Grace?I think you will like the results.”

“I suppose so,” Duchess Andelin replied nervously.

It would mean a lot of tedious sewing and a late night or two for Mionet, but sometimes sacrifices were necessary. As they looked through the gowns and Mionet spun delightful visions of the possibilities, she also gleaned a great deal of information about the lady, the bathhouse, and the duke.

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