Page 60 of A Touch of Charm
Margaret helped her into the ball gown, its rich-emerald silk sliding over the petticoat in a whisper of elegance. Snug across the bust, the fit tapered gracefully before falling into a sweeping silhouette over her hips and legs, ending in a small train that trailed behind. Delicate lace and tiny pearls adorned the bodice, adding a touch of refined artistry to the design. Each movement sent the skirt billowing, a cascade of luxurious fabric rippling like water with every graceful step she took.
As Thea gazed at her reflection, she saw someone who looked like a princess—a vision of grace and beauty staring back at her. The transformation was complete; she embodied the role she had once embraced so effortlessly, a role she thought she’d left far behind. And yet, beneath the layers of silk and lace, she felt like a stranger to herself.
The last time she had worn a gown like this had been at Bran Castle, as the promised bride to Prince Ralph. Those memories stirred something restless inside her—the girl who had been a princess, but also the woman who had run away from that life. They were both still there, shadowing her reflection.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as if pain might ground her. She forced slow, steady breaths, attempting to calm the storm of emotions raging within.
“There, all done,” Margaret said, stepping back with a satisfied smile after adjusting the gown’s hem. “You’re ready for a ball.”
Thea swallowed hard, giving a tight nod. “Yes, I suppose I am,” she replied, though the words felt as empty as the smile on her lips.
She stuck her tongue out for a fleeting second—the smallest act of rebellion against the suffocating perfection of her appearance, a brief reminder of the girl she still hoped to be.
Margaret patted Thea on the shoulder, reassuring her before leaving the room, leaving Thea alone with her thoughts. For a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes and breathe. The weight of the gown, the tightness of the stays, the elegance of the dressing room—all of it pressed down on her, a reminder of the life she had left behind.
She opened her eyes and stepped toward the mirror, examining her reflection. The gown was undeniably beautiful, a masterpiece of craftsmanship and design. But it also represented everything she had fled from: the expectations, constraints, and lack of agency over her destiny. Yet, once her brother Alex arrived, she couldn’t escape her duties. Somehow, she had to find a way to be as brave as Mary had seen her, following her heart and taking her destiny into her own hands. She had to be the princess Mary saw in her and the woman Andre found worth saving.
Thea took another deep breath, her chest constrained by the stays, but her resolve was hardening. She had come to England seeking freedom and a chance to live on her terms. The ball gown might be a temporary necessity along with a few day dresses, but none of it would define her. She would find a way to balance her past with her future, to forge her identity on her own terms.
But how?
As the shop’s door swung open, letting in fresh air, Thea felt a rush of anticipation. The world outside was waiting, and so was she.
Except that the world melted away when Thea caught Andre’s eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze met Andre’s.
The way he looked at her—his eyes softening with admiration and something deeper—made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t been for so long. His gaze traveled over her, taking in the transformation, and yet it was clear that he saw beyond the gown and the trappings of her station. He saw something, it seemed, that he’d lost a long time ago and just rediscovered.
He wasn’t intimidated by her.
Thea dwelled on this observation for a moment longer than she ought, because he’d also not hesitated to speak freely with her that night in the carriage when Stan introduced her as a princess. Most men reacted differently to her, but not Andre.
Andre took a step closer, his movements measured and deliberate, as if drawn to her by an invisible thread. The warmth in his eyes matched his tender smile, making her heart flutter. In that look, she found reassurance, encouragement, and something that resembled deep vulnerability.
And with that, Thea stepped into the light toward him, ready to show more of herself to him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Two minutes earlier…
Andre took amoment to absorb the scene at the shop. Behind Mary, a young assistant arranged a new shipment of French ribbons, their delicate patterns catching the light—the assistant’s quick, efficient movements spoke of experience and familiarity with the inventory. A large, gilt-framed mirror hung on the wall behind them, its reflection adding depth to the already elegant space.
While Thea had disappeared into the dressing rooms with a seamstress, Andre continued to look after Mary. The dressmaker had given her a little wicker basket with several cut-off ribbons. Indeed, they were leftovers from tailoring dresses and all the womanly trimmings of the gowns, but for the little girl, they were a treasure trove.
Andre remained near the counter, occasionally drifting to the dressing room, where Thea had disappeared with the two seamstresses.
Mary was happily occupied with the wicker basket filled with ribbons. She carefully deliberated about pulling out each piece, her face lighting up with every discovery. Andre watched her, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her innocent delight was infectious.
“Isn’t this lovely, Felicity?” Mary mumbled to herself, but Andre didn’t think much of it. She seemed content.
Andre’s mind drifted to Thea, the beautiful princess only a few feet away.
“Mother said that Miss Thea moves as if she always wore a petticoat and a ball gown,” Mary said.
“Your mother said that?” Andre tried not to betray the suspicion in his voice. If a lady thought that, she might ask why, and perhaps Thea’s cover as governess would be pierced. But Thea did indeed have a graceful manner of walking and moving. When she turned around, her hands stretched forward and down as if she were indeed ready to push a bustling dress down. And when she climbed stairs, she always lifted the front of her dress as if it were a much larger gown than the simple day dresses she wore.
Yes, she was a princess in every way—and indeed used to wearing elegant gowns every day at Bran Castle, where she and Stan grew up.
