Severine hesitated and then demanded, “Why?”
“Your father saved my life during the war.” For once Mr. Brand didn’t avoid her gaze. “I’d have seen him live a long and full life if I had my wish. I didn’t, but I’ll be”—those blue eyes settled on the statue of Mary and he censored himself—“darned if I don’t keep my promise to him.”
Well, Severine thought, that made sense at least. A man who seemed to be one of honor. One who wasn’t connected with Father’s business practices. Who was old enough to stand for her father and beholden enough to him to just do as he wanted. Was this the only man her father had trusted Severine with?
Severine rocked back on her heels. “So if I wanted to go home—”
Severine Euphrasia DuNoir stared at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger. Her face was all sharp angles and high cheekbones. It was what it was, she thought, having vanity thoroughly scoured from her in her youth and then completely buried with living in a convent for six years. She would never be lovely like her mother, and that had been the only useless wish of Severine’s heart when she’d bothered to make wishes. She had once wanted to be pretty and frivolous and as loved as her mother, and she had accepted it would never happen.
The days of useless fairy wishes were long past for Severine and she was stolidly something else. She met the gaze of the shop girl and asked, “Is this a normal dress?”
The dress reached mere inches below her knees, and Severine’s dark brown eyes were fixed on her naked legs. Her legs weren’t actually naked given the stockings, but she certainly felt as scandalous as Godiva on her nude horseback ride after all. The dress was a soft pink that made her want to vomit as she took in her white skin against the color. She looked like a blushing ghost.
She felt naked and ridiculous. Women wore such things here? Clearly, however, they did. The shop girl looked lovely and vivacious. Her pretty dark-brown locks were cut quite close to her head and smoothed into curls that clung to her forehead and cheek. While Severine thought it was quite flattering on the girl, she was sure it would never do for herself, even if one didn’t take into account the difference in their hair texture. The shop girl seemed to be of mulatto descent and had the Creole accent of so many in New Orleans. Severine’s mouth twisted. She had a goal, and that goal required she look the part of one of these bright young things. She had accepted she’d never be frivolous like her mother, so how was she to accomplish her goal?
“This is a normal dress,” the shop girl said gently. “Where you been, cher? The moon?”
Severine paused and admitted, “Almost.” She tried for cheery but failed.
“And people don’t bob their hair where you were? Or—” The girl gestured to the dress rather than explaining. Her horrified gaze was enough for Severine to laugh, but she was positive her humor didn’t really appear on her face.
“Oh.” Severine hesitated, her mouth twisting. “No. Not really.”
“Well, hello, darlin’,” the girl said cheerily, drawing out the hello. “Welcome to the new world.”
Severine tried and failed for another smile, but it seemed the attempt was sufficient. Or perhaps the warmth that appeared in the girl’s eyes was from what Severine said next.
“I need to change my look. You seem…” Severine struggled for the words and then hoped that ready money would make up for inarticulate words. “Quite modern and…” Another awkward pause until Severine added, “Quite fashionable. Lovely. So many of the others I’ve been watching look as though they’re parroting the fashion, while you look as though you’re setting it.”
It was the right thing to say. The girl held out her hand and said, “Meline Boucher. Fashion is my passion. I hope to have my own shop with my own line someday.”
They considered dress after dress and then Meline’s head tilted as she said, “I think we need to embrace you as you are, cher. Putting you in a rose dress and bobbing your hair will make you look like a penguin wearing peacock feathers.”
Severine waited for Meline to explain, but instead the woman disappeared into the back. She returned with sketch papers and a pencil box. In moments, Meline was sketching in black pencil and Severine was watching with interest as her face and her form appeared on the paper.
Dress after dress filled the pages that followed. Some of the dresses were black on black. Some were dark gray with black embroidery. One was a black and red wine that reached from chest to the floor and even had something of a train. Severine, for the first time in her life, desperately wanted the dresses on those pages.
When Meline paused drawing, Severine asked, “How long?”
Meline paused and then offered a date that was too far away.
“Is it possible to have them in two weeks? Perhaps if you hire help?”
Meline paused and then nodded, a slow, excited grin crossing her face. “I’ll get fired for certain if Madam,” she said it like an insult, “realizes that I’ve taken on a job like this.”
“Then, let’s not tell her. Let’s find something that will do for now, and we’ll meet at my house for the rest. I’ll need sensible day dresses and skirts with pockets along with this look. Can you make that happen as well?”
Meline nodded quickly.
Severine wrote her address on a page with her name and left the shop. When she stepped back onto the bustling streets of New Orleans, she winced. There were people everywhere. Handsome, fashionable, hard-working. There was a scent in the
