“Turn,” he snaps. Savannah turns as ordered and Belinda steps beside her.
“That coloring!” Louis frowns.
“Louis, I’d like you to meet Miss Savannah Ward. She’s attending the Gala tonight and needs a dress. It must put all others to shame.”
Louis glares at her, “Cutting it short aren’t you sister?” he snaps.
Savannah smiles, “Sister?” she looks at them and sees the resemblance.
“Oui,” Louis looks at her closer, stepping to release Savannah’s hair, it tumbles from her pin, and he laughs at her shock.
“Louis!” Belinda hisses and shoves him back from Savannah.
“I must see the canvas,” he explains.
Savannah glares at him, ignoring the laughter around her. Slowly she unpins the rest of her hair, releasing a riot of glorious, flame-colored curls to her elbows. “You will not touch me again, without my permission,” Savannah snaps.
“Be careful,” Belinda warns in French. “Dayton Patrick will not take kindly to you manhandling his cousin.”
Louis’ eyes narrow in concentration as he looks at her. “I can see why. Fire equals passion. Forgive me, Miss Ward. I’m swamped with customers, as you can see. Tell me what you need.”
“Tonight, I shall be dancing with the richest men in the world. All with wives, daughters, and even sisters.” Savannah glances at Belinda and smiles. “I imagine they will want to know who dressed me.”
Belinda steps back and watches Savannah with sudden understanding. This woman knows her way through a battlefield. She doesn’t need her help or protection. Dayton is in serious trouble. Cousin, my toe! He’d be a fool if he lets her go.
Louis sits up slowly and stares at Belinda who nods. “Not only that, but I need a breakfast dress, and if you have time, riding attire.”
“This is it, Louis, the opportunity to showcase your talent. Money is no object.”
“Everyone out!” Louis shouts to the stunned shop. “Out, now!” he roars. He snaps orders in French to his three assistants, and they all begin rushing people out of the shop. Once the shop is closed, he turns to offer his arm to Savannah.
“Miss Ward, may I escort you to the sewing room?”
Savannah smiles, “You may.”
Once Savannah is seated, Louis carefully looks at her. His three seamstresses stand back quietly while Belinda sits next to Savannah in a show of support. “Tell me what you envision, Miss Ward.”
“Call me, Savannah, please.” She glances around the room at the lovely dresses hanging on racks and doesn’t see anything that will fit what’s she’s looking for.
“Louis, I’ve stood out all of my life for my hair, as you proved earlier.” Louis shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Unfortunately, God chose to gift me with freckles as well. I’m through hiding. I want to showcase my coloring.” Savannah stands and swiftly starts pulling dresses out and pointing out what she likes and dislikes.
“I want a bold color, one that rivals only the color of my hair. I don’t want a huge skirt, no tassels, ribbons, buttons or bows. I will stand out because of my simplicity, not because of the ornaments. Do you understand?”
Louis grins, “Oui!” excitement ripples through him and he snaps at two of the girls. They run to another room and return with three dresses. He grabs a pencil and starts sketching.
“Tell me more!” he demands.
“I don’t want to look like someone’s draperies with vast puffs of frills, ruffles, or bows.”
“Yes, you are too, short,” Louis snaps.
“Exactly, and no elaborate layers or mountainous folds. Keep it simple.”
Louis leaps up and grabs one of the dresses, “Stand please,” he requests.
He holds up a dress, it’s orange. “No, give me the red,” he orders. He holds up a deep, rich, red and frowns, “Maybe.” Savannah’s eyes are on the third dress. It’s a deep royal blue.
Savannah walks forward and touches the silk gown, “I love the bold color, but it has too many ruffles, layers,” Belinda says.
“Can I try it on?” Savannah asks softly.
“But of course,” Louis replies. “Corset!” he points to one of the girls.
“This way,” one of the girl leads, Savannah into a dressing room and they bring in multiple size corsets and undergarments. Soon Savannah is strapped and cinched into a black lace corset and bustled hoop skirt. When she steps into the dress, she sighs in disappointment. “It’s too small,” she says.
“No, wait. The sides are open,” the seamstress points, “see, we haven’t completed it yet.”
Belinda explains, “Sample dresses are kept on hand, just for this reason. Last minute fittings. We can add material as needed.”
“This material is perfection,” Savannah says holding the dress up. “It’s a shame about the layers and the puffy sleeves.”
“Let’s see it,” Louis orders from outside.
They follow Savannah out into the dressing area and Louis circles her. He frowns, and grabs the sleeve, pointing out to the seamstress next to him. “Remove the puffy sleeves,” he points again, “strip it down to the original shape, no layers.” Soon all four of them are pulling and snipping threads, releasing layers that were added to the outside of the dress.
Belinda frowns and glances at Savannah. She’s watching with fascination as they work. “Louis, love, what about the neckline. I hate it.”
“I agree,” he moves with a cup of pins and begins to tuck and lower the neckline until it is dangerously low.
“No!” Savannah says gasping and tugging at the dress. “Have you lost your mind?”
Belinda laughs at the look of outrage on Louis’ face, “Savannah, truly, it’s not that low. It just feels that way to you, but I swear there will be much more on display tonight besides your freckles.”
“Stars…” she murmurs.
“What did you say?” Louis demands.
“He calls
