one in black and bronze stripes that fitted her as if it had been both designed and cut for her personally; and one in white cotton and lace with ruffles and pearl buttons that was outrageously feminine. Even as a girl, in the days when her mother was trying to marry her to someone suitable, she had never felt so attractive, even verging on the really beautiful.
Temptation to have them both ached inside her.
The woman returned to see if Charlotte had made a decision, or if perhaps she wished for a further selection.
“Ah!” she said, drawing in her breath. “Surely madame could not wish for anything lovelier.”
Charlotte hesitated, glancing at the striped blouse on its hanger.
“An excellent choice. Perhaps you would like to see which your husband prefers?” the woman suggested.
Charlotte started to say that Narraway was not her husband, but she wanted to phrase it graciously and not seem to correct the woman. Then she saw Narraway just beyond the woman’s shoulder, and the admiration in his face. For an instant it was naked, vulnerable, and completely without guard. Then he must have realized, and he smiled.
“We’ll take them both,” he said decisively, and turned away.
Unless she should contradict him in front of the saleswoman, embarrassing them all, Charlotte had no alternative but to accept. She stepped back, closed the door, and changed into her own very ordinary blouse.
“Victor, you shouldn’t have done that,” she said as soon as they were outside in the street again. “I have no idea how I am going to repay you.”
He stopped and looked at her for a moment.
Suddenly his anger evaporated and she remembered the expression in his eyes only a few moments before.
He reached up and with his fingertips touched her face. It was only her cheek, but it was an extraordinarily intimate gesture, with a great tenderness.
“You will repay me by helping me to clear my name,” he replied. “That is more than enough.”
To argue would be pointlessly unkind, not only to his very obvious emotion but also to the hope of the success they both needed so much.
“Then we had better set about it,” she agreed, then moved a step away from him and started walking along the pavement again.
THE ART EXHIBITION WAS beautiful, but Charlotte could not turn her attention to it and knew that to Dolina Pearse she must have appeared terribly ignorant. Dolina seemed to know each artist at least by repute, and be able to say for what particular technique he was famous. Charlotte simply listened with an air of appreciation, and hoped she could remember enough of it to recite back later.
While they walked around the rooms looking at one picture after another, Charlotte watched the other women, who were fashionably dressed exactly as they would have been in London. Sleeves were worn large at the shoulder this season, and slender from the elbow down. Even the most unsophisticated were puffed, or flying like awkward wings. Skirts were wide at the bottom, padded and bustled at the back. It was very feminine, like flowers in full bloom—large ones, magnolias or peonies.
Tea reminded her of the days before she was married, accompanying her mother on suitable “morning calls,” which were actually always made in the afternoon. Behavior was very correct, all the unwritten laws obeyed. And beneath the polite exchanges the gossip was ruthless, the cutting remark honed to a razor’s edge.
“How are you enjoying Dublin, Mrs. Pitt?” Talulla Lawless asked courteously. “Do have a cucumber sandwich. Always so refreshing, don’t you think?”
“Thank you,” Charlotte accepted. It was the only possible thing to do, even if she had not liked them. “I find Dublin fascinating. Who would not?”
“Oh, many people,” Talulla replied. “They think us very unsophisticated.” She smiled. “But perhaps that is what you enjoy?”
Charlotte smiled back, utterly without warmth. “Either they were not serious, or if they were, then they missed the subtlety of your words,” she replied. “I think you anything but simple,” she added for good measure.
Talulla laughed. It was a brittle sound. “You flatter us, Mrs. Pitt. It is
“Please don’t concern yourself, Miss Lawless,” Charlotte replied. “It is very far from the most awful mistake. Indeed, were it a mistake, which it isn’t, it could still quite easily be put right. Would that all errors were so simply mended.”
“Oh dear!” Talulla affected dismay. “How much more exciting your life must be in London than ours is here. You imply dark deeds. You have me fascinated.”
Charlotte hesitated, then plunged in. “I daresay the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. After watching the play last night I imagined life was full of passion and doom-laden love here. Please don’t tell me it is all just the fervor of a playwright’s imagination. You will entirely ruin the reputation of Ireland abroad.”
“I didn’t know you had such influence,” Talulla said drily. “I had better be more careful of what I say.” There was mocking and anger in her face.
Charlotte cast her eyes down toward the floor. “I am so sorry. I seem to have spoken out of turn, and struck some feeling of pain. I assure you, it was unintentional.”
“I can see many of your actions are unintentional, Mrs. Pitt,” Talulla snapped. “And cause pain.”
There was a rustle of silk against silk as a couple of the other women moved slightly in discomfort. Someone drew breath as if to speak, glanced at Talulla, and changed her mind.
“Just as I am sure yours are not, Miss Lawless,” Charlotte replied. “I find it easy to believe that every word you say is entirely both foreseen, and intended.”
