03 - The Wicked Lady (6 page)

"Not now, Hagan," Trevor warned.

Marie walked about Kristen with her hand propped beneath her chin as she studied every inch of the girl. "She has very unusual coloring, but if I pick just the right colors and accessories, you'll not recognize your future bride upon your return."

"I
truly doubt that," he observed.

"Then let's say, I'll make her so lovely you will not be able to take your eyes off her."

Trevor chuckled. "I would know Kristen across any room." And, he realized, what he said was true. In just this short time, he couldn't imagine not ever seeing her. And it frightened him to admit the fact. "Then, I shall leave her in your capable hands. When shall I return?"

"We have much to do." Madam Marie clicked her tongue and tapped her chin and considered. "I should think late in the afternoon," she said finally. She searched the pockets of her skirt. "Oh, dear. I seem to have misplaced my timepiece." Her brows drew together in puzzlement. "A moment please while I check the back." She scurried through the curtains.

Trevor looked at Kristen. She stared back at him with those guilty green eyes, never once batting her pretty eyelashes. "Rebecca, please escort Hagan to the carriage, and I will follow in just a moment."

When the door had shut, he simply turned to Kristen and held out his hand, a stern expression on his face.

"What?"  She looked at him, trying to look puzzled but failing miserably.

He took her arm and pulled her to the side. Again he held out his hand, more insistently this time. Kristen sighed. Reluctantly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the missing watch and unwillingly placed it in the palm of his hand.

"You promised," he whispered with a vague hint of disapproval.

"
'Tis hard."

"Well, try
."  Trevor slipped the watch back onto the table, easing it under some papers just in the nick of time before Marie came through the curtains.

"I just don't know--I'm not usually so absentminded." She fumbled with the papers on her desk. "Here it is! I must apologize, Your Grace, perhaps I'm getting feeble-minded in my old age."

Trevor looked at Kristen and, at least, she did have the grace to blush. Perhaps, it was a small sign that she might have some kind of conscience. "We all misplace things, Madam Marie. I believe Kristen can attest to losing a few things herself."

"At least once," Kristen murmured.

"However, she is much better at finding things," Trevor teased.

"I'll keep that in mind." Madam Marie laughed. "Your Grace, you seem so different from the man who came to see me six months ago. Could it be love?"

Trevor stared at her, but didn't bother to respond.

Marie rushed on. "For a complete trousseau, I'm afraid, we will not be finished until five, and it will be quite expensive."

"Spare no expense." He moved over and kissed Kristen on the cheek, surprising himself at how natural it felt. "I'll pick you up sharply at five." He opened the door and Rebecca came in as he was leaving.

"Goodbye," Kristen said as she touched her cheek. She hadn't expected the small display of affection. She figured he'd be angry at her for swiping the watch. The man surely puzzled her, and she wondered if there was more to this marriage than he let on. No matter, 'twas better than being in the streets.

"This way, madam." Marie pulled the curtains back as Kristen and Rebecca followed to the back. "Is there a particular color that you like?"

"Color? I should like something truly different. Perhaps a lavender."

"I agree. Would go nicely with your complexion. I can also see you in russets, reds, golds and rich greens," the older woman commented.

"I think an apple-green would look pretty on Kristen, too," Rebecca voiced her opinion.

"Then I should like a green dress, too." Kristen smiled at her maid. "Please help me decide and choose wisely."

The next few hours became a blur of satins, laces, gauze and Indian muslins. There were buttons to choose and shoes and hats, and some of the softest fabrics she'd ever felt for undergarments. Kristen had never been pinched and prodded so much in her entire life, and she soon tired of all the fuss.

Every time a new material was wrapped about Kristen, Madam Marie exclaimed, "
Oui
, you are lovely. His Grace won't be able to take his eyes off you--not that he could when he was here earlier."

"Really?"

"
Oui
, I could see he is quite taken with you."

Kristen thought the lady was just imagining what she saw because Trevor didn't care for her in any way other than for his own purposes. Theirs was a business agreement--nothing more.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't believe how differently she looked when she finally dressed in the gown that had been made last night for her. Evidently the seamstress had been up all night sewing.

The
pelisse was of silk; its color a light shade of marguerite. The collar stood up to allow a white ruffle, and down the front, rich satin of the same hue ran down the middle in a swirling design.

Rebecca insisted Kristen's hair must be done to go with her new outfit. She pulled Kristen's hair up and twisted and fastened the long curls at the crown.

After Kristen dressed, she sat at a table with Marie who began drilling the etiquette of the
ton
into Kristen's head. There were too many forks and too many glasses. They went over it again and again, and surprisingly, Kristen learned very quickly. It was like a game to her, and she was a master of games . . . a lesson she'd learned early in life.

Kristen felt almost like a lady, and she smiled under Madam Marie's praise.  It was amazing how new clothes could make her feel so differently, even though she knew she was the same person.

They finished a little earlier than expected so they were escorted to the front lounge to wait until Trevor came to pick them up.

"If you ladies will make yourselves comfortable, I need to give the seamstresses instructions, so you'll have your gowns in a few days. You're a very lucky lady."

"I know," Kristen agreed.  "Thank you for all your help." She squeezed Marie's hand, deciding she liked the dressmaker.

Rebecca automatically relaxed upon the green velvet settee, but Kristen couldn't sit still. She paced, then she stopped, stared out the window, and then began to pace again. She wasn't sure if what she was about to do was very smart, but she was going to do it anyway, and now was the perfect time before she changed her mind. She tugged at the neck of her gown, not use to wearing such a confining garment.

"Listen, Rebecca. Where I used to live isn't far from here." Kristen's mind was working overtime again. She could do this. She needed to.

"I don't recall any abbeys around here."

Kristen recalled Trevor's lie. "I'll explain about that later. I need to get a few things I cherish before they're stolen."

"But mum, it's after two," Rebecca said.

Kristen started at her maid a little dumbfounded. "What does the hour have to do with anything?"

"Ladies are not usually seen after two o'clock around here. They don't wish to be thought of as fast."

Kristen laughed at the absurdity. If Rebecca only knew that she'd been on the streets at every hour of the day, Rebecca would probably turn several shades of red. "I will not bump into anyone, so dinna fret."

Rebecca hesitated, blinking with surprise. "I'm sure His Grace will take you there, mum."

"No."  Kristen shook her head. "Ye don't comprehend. Where I came from 'tisn't very nice, and I dinna want Trevor tae go there. 'Tis bad enough he knows where I came from, but seeing the actual place is a different story." She bent down and picked up her empty purse. "If I hurry, I can get everything I need and be back here before Claremont returns. Ye'll have tae stall him if he happens tae return early, but I'm sure he won't."

"No, mum!  You can't go out alone."  Rebecca got up with the intentions of going, too. "His Grace will have a royal fit."

"Rebecca, ye don't understand." Kristen grabbed the girl's arms. "I've been alone for years. One more time isn't going tae hurt. I'm only dressed differently, but I am the same person I was yesterday and the day before." Kristen dropped her hands and smoothed her dress. "Now, ye stay here and stall His Worship in case he takes a notion tae return early."

"But, mum."

That was all Kristen heard. She shut the door and hurried down the street.  he knew these alleys like the back of her hand, but she felt different walking the streets this time and very much alone. Her heels clicking on the sidewalk sounded like a drum in her head.

A gentleman passing her doffed his hat, and she smiled, resisting the urge to see how much he had in his pocket.

It would be hard to mend her ways, but she'd try a little for Trevor's sake. However, she wasn't a fool. She'd be sure to fix a little nest egg for herself and Hagan.

She turned left at the corner and then a right and finally she saw her old grimy neighborhood--just the way she'd left it.
Her stomach clenched tight. Some things would never change.

A wave of apprehension swept through Kristen, but she'd come this far and now wasn't the time to turn into a coward. Besides, it wasn't anything but a house--one she didn't have to stay in any more.

Wasting little time, she entered the shack that she'd called home for as long as she could remember. She shivered the minute she was inside. Funny, she hadn't thought of the place as being dumpy when it was all she had. Now it looked small and dirty, and Kristen realized she was thankful to be out of the place even if it might only be for a little while. Trevor had truly rescued her.

There wasn't time to stand around. She needed to get out of here. A brown box sat in one corner of the room, and Kristen went directly over to it. She searched through the wooden box until she found her mother's silver brush and mirror. Picking up the cold metal objects, she sat them aside. They were too large for her purse. Then she looked for the old can where she'd stashed a few pounds for when she was in dire straits.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around for the final time without regrets. "Thank ye, Father, for giving us a chance," she prayed.

At least she could get back to the shop before Trevor, and he wouldn't have to know a thing. She hoped Rebecca hadn't pulled her hair out worrying.

Kristen had everything. It was time to go.

But when she turned, her smile faded. Standing between her and the door was her stepfather. He hadn't changed at bit. Ned Blume stood an inch taller than herself, but he was much heavier. His big belly hung over his belt and his faded brown coat was wrinkled and dirty. It appeared he hadn't shaved in a weak from the gray stubble on his chin.

"I knew if I kept looking, I'd find your ungrateful hide!" Ned Blume stood hunched over in the doorway, one hand propped on the door jamb. "And look at ya!"  He took a step forward. "All gussied up when the rest of us pour souls are starving."

Kristen tried to choke down the panic that sprang up in her throat. "Get out of my way."

"Not on your life, girly." He took two more steps and grabbed her by the shoulder. "Look at ya. Whose pockets ya been pickin' to buy clothes like this, or have ya finally wised up and started selling yaself?"

"
'Tisn't any of yer business." She shoved him hard, and he stumbled, grabbing at her dress.

Kristen heard her sleeve tear. She gasped. Ned had ruined the first new dress she'd ever had. He was such a by-blow, she wondered how her mother could have ever loved such a man.  Kristen was thankful he wasn't any of her blood.

"Ya haven't learned a damned thing, girl." He slapped her, and she stumbled backwards, hitting her head on a shelf. "If ya think I'm going to let the likes of ya get away from me again, then girly, you're badly mistaken."

Kristen slowly got to her feet, feeling a little wobbly from the crack on her head. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when she'd been given a chance at something more. She touched her mouth and felt the sticky blood on her fingers. Bracing her head on the wall, she attempted to steady herself from the dizziness spinning in her head, and tried to keep her fragile control.

Ned's gaze swept the miserable interior of the shack. "Where's my boy?"

"Safe," she said in a choked voice. "Ye'll never get yer hands on him."

Ned started advancing on her again, and Kristen backed up, searching for anything to protect herself. He would not hit her again and get away with it!

"The boy's my flesh and blood, girl, but y
ou, on the other hand--"

Kristen's fingers brushed against a knife lying on a small wooden table. She gripped the hilt and waited. Her stomach quivered. Silence loomed around them as her breath came in shallow, quick gasps. Kristen realized she was scared. She'd never taken a life before, but he wouldn't touch her again. She'd make sure of that.

A loud rattling sounded outside the half-open door. Ned turned as a man burst through the doorway.

"Who the hell are y
ou?"  Ned shouted just before his body flew across the room, slamming against the far wall.