Marissa regarded Jordana standing on the block, her shoulders stiff and unyielding, facing the world with a stubbornness few females her age possessed. She admired Jordana’s single-minded purpose in wanting to become a physician because she knew where it came from—the agonizing death of her mother. But society would not look kindly on Jordana or her interests if she were given freedom to pursue them.
Possibly I can find her a gentleman who would be encouraging of her passions.
Marissa had played matchmaker before with excellent results. But it would take some time to find the correct man for Jordana. One who was open-minded and would not be intimidated by her intellect or her dedication to helping women.
Jordana now had her arms stretched out and was glaring daggers at Marissa.
“My lady.” Madame Fontaine came forward and looked at the pattern book in Marissa’s lap. “If I may give my opinion?”
Marissa nodded. “Please.”
The dressmaker flipped open the book, pointing an elegant finger stained with pencil lead to the pattern of a simply cut dress. “This one, I think. Simple, with clean lines. The design can be adjusted easily to a ballgown as well. She does not strike me as a young lady who will appreciate frills or additional embellishment. Modest necklines.” Madame Fontaine cocked her head taking in Jordana. “Her bosom is generous.”
“It is?” Marissa sat up and looked at Jordana. Madame was right. She’d never taken notice with Jordana always jumping about in dresses much too girlish for her.
The modiste nodded.
“Agreed.” Squinting at the pattern book in her lap, Marissa finally sighed in resignation before reaching into her reticule for a pair of reading glasses. Perching them on the end of her nose, Marissa leafed through the pages, agreeing with the suggestions or choosing something else, but staying with the same basic design Madame Fontaine had suggested. After selecting fabrics for a handful of dresses appropriate for paying calls and walking in the park, Marissa took off the glasses and set the book aside.
“I also have these.” Madame Fontaine gave a sharp clap.
An assistant rushed forward to drape a lovely dress of periwinkle over a dressmaker’s dummy to Marissa’s left. “I will add a ribbon of darker color here,” her hand ran along the neckline, “as well as the sleeves. This can be ready in a day or two.” She snapped her fingers and another dress was brought out, this one the color of summer grass.
“These are the only two I have at present, my lady. But both dresses need only minor alterations to fit Miss Ives.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
“It is my greatest pleasure, Lady Cupps-Foster.”
Madame Fontaine sauntered off and pulled another pencil from her hair. “I assume you will want new underthings for Miss Ives as well?” she said, brow raised at Jordana’s slightly worn chemise. “Petticoats. Chemises.” She gave another wave of her hand.
“Yes. Thank you. Everything to be sent to the home of Lord Haddon.” Marissa rattled off the address.
Once the assistants had whisked away the two dresses, Madame Fontaine informed Marissa the gowns she’d ordered for herself would require one more fitting.
Marissa looked to where Jordana stood clenching her fists, waiting impatiently for her gown to be buttoned up, eager to be gone from the dressmaker’s and off to Mr. Coventry’s. “I think I’ll return later this week.” She smiled. “Miss Ives grows ever impatient.”
“I concur,” Madame Fontaine agreed. She bowed politely to Marissa and went to greet Lady Barton and her three daughters. “I bid you good day, Lady Cupps-Foster.”
Jordana hopped off the podium, ignoring the outstretched hand of one of the girls sent to help her. Her skirts lifted, showing a great deal of ankle. “May we go to Mr. Coventry’s now?”
“Dear, must you leap and jump at every turn? A lady waits for assistance. And yes, I did promise you a trip to Mr. Coventry’s. Thank you for not biting off anyone’s fingers.”
“You’re welcome, my lady.”
“I think perhaps you should call me Marissa after all of our adventures.” Regardless of her initial reluctance in taking on Jordana and the girl’s difficult manner, she was enjoying herself immensely. She hadn’t realized how much she missed mothering another ‘duckling’.
I will miss Jordana dreadfully when Haddon’s sister arrives to take charge.
“Marissa.” Jordana tested the name on her tongue while taking Marissa’s arm. “Thank you, Marissa.” Her silver eyes, so like Haddon’s, gleamed with real affection.
Marissa blinked and turned away, ashamed to find her eyes filling with tears over the prospect of losing Jordana.
“Oh, Mama.” A familiar shrill voice cut the air. “I simply must have the dress of peacock blue to wear to Lady Ralston’s ball. Madame’s assistant assures me no one else has taken the silk. I shall stand out in the crowd.”
Lady Christina Sykes, stunning in a confection of peach satin and lace, came around a table on which several bolts of fabric were stacked, trailed by her mother, Lady Stanton.
“The color is a bit mature for a girl your age,” Lady Stanton cautioned. “Though I agree, you would look lovely in it.”
Jordana quickened her pace, towing Marissa along in a most unladylike fashion. “Please hurry, my—Marissa.”
“Are you avoiding someone?” She cast a glance at Lady Stanton who was smiling at her daughter. “If you are, it is a foolish task. Better to confront obstacles head-on.”
“I don’t wish to speak to Lady Christina or Lady Stanton. I’ve had my fill of them both. They’re always inviting me to tea or to go shopping. I don’t care to renew our acquaintance.”
“It is very kind of them to wish to bring you into their circle.” Marissa’s heart had started a slow pounding at the sight of Lady Stanton and her daughter. Knowing the pair were making efforts to ingratiate themselves with Jordana told Marissa how far things had progressed with Haddon.
“She wants to marry my father.”
Marissa had
