And now he wished for her to put on an evening gown and dine with him. The request was so out of the blue she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But since she owed him every bit of comfort she enjoyed, she would not refuse. So she called for Emma, who made sure Calista received a decent breakfast before they set off.
One hour later, they exited the Imperial. Wearing the only gown Calista still owned, she felt remarkably underdressed compared with the rest of the hotel guests she passed on her way out the door. Then again, she’d kept the gown for practical reasons since it would have fetched the least amount of money, was more appropriate for a job interview, and would also be comfortable to travel in no matter which class of ticket she eventually purchased.
“Since we’re short on time, I recommend heading straight to the Belle Anglaise on Bond Street,” Emma said once they’d hailed a hackney and the coachman inquired about their destination. “It’s an expensive shop, but they will have exquisite gowns ready to wear with a few alterations.”
Since Calista had no idea where to shop for anything in London, she decided to trust the maid’s advice. The coachman was issued instructions and the pair climbed into the carriage which lurched into motion as soon as they shut the door.
Peering out at the Westminster scenery, Calista marveled at the magnificence – the sheer architectural splendor – of the parliamentary buildings. Beyond it she glimpsed the Thames, until the carriage turned, taking them away from the river and farther into the city.
Gorgeous buildings lined the streets while well-dressed men and ladies strolled along the pavements. Clearly, this was an exclusive area devoid of squalor.
“Is that the palace?” she asked Emma as they trotted past a grand edifice set in a U formation with columns flanking the wings to the left and the right. It was most impressive.
“No. That is Marlborough House. King William’s widow, Queen Adelaide, resides there.”
“Goodness.” Emma couldn’t imagine a single person living in such an enormous building. It seemed extraordinarily extravagant. But then again, Mr. Thorkilson’s home was no small townhouse either. It occupied almost half a block on Fifth Avenue. Yet Marlborough House was at least twice as large, if not bigger.
They continued onto a broader street which Emma declared to be Piccadilly – an exceedingly busy thoroughfare from which they made a left turn onto Bond Street. The carriage drew to a halt moments later in front of the dress shop Emma had mentioned, upon which the two women alit, paid the coachman, and entered a world filled with colorful silks and lace.
Calista gaped at the wonder of it all. She was sure such shops must exist in New York as well though she had never visited one quite like this. Her family was considered upper middle class with her father earning a steady income first as a lawyer and now as a senator, as opposed to men like Mr. Thorkilson who’d built their own empires. So although she’d owned a couple of gowns intended for formal events, both cut from silk, she’d never dressed in fabrics quite this luxurious.
Awed, she stood in dazed amazement until a woman’s voice spoke.
“Welcome to the Belle Anglaise. How may I assist you?”
“Oh…um…” Calista stared at the woman – an elderly sort with a pleasant smile and inquisitive eyes – then glanced at Emma briefly before returning her attention to the attendant. “I am in need of some clothes. Specifically an evening gown appropriate for a dinner at the Imperial Hotel. And a day dress.”
“Three day dresses,” Emma supplied.
Calista turned to her maid. “That’s really not—”
“Three day dresses,” Emma insisted. She gave the attendant a firm look. “Three day dresses, two evening gowns, a nightgown, silk stockings, corset, reticule, and two chemises of the finest muslin. One of the evening gowns must be ready today, Madame..?”
“Bernarde,” the woman replied while Calista tried to get her bearings. Before she could form a protest, Madame Bernarde was leading her to a small seating arrangement and then a series of gowns were brought forth for her perusal.
“I really don’t think,” Calista started, only to have Emma place a steadying hand on her arm.
“Mr. Donahue tasked me with seeing you properly attired, Miss Smith. I cannot risk letting him down.”
“He spoke with you about this?” Calista asked, shocked by the notion that such a discussion had taken place – that the tall, broad-shouldered man she’d met only once had not only penned her a note on the subject but addressed it with her maid.
“I believe he worried you’d only order the evening gown and asked me to make sure you spent the money he gave you as he intended.” A teasing smile curved Emma’s lips. “Apparently, his concerns weren’t unfounded. Were they?”
Calista pressed her lips together and frowned at the next few dresses presented to her. Mr. Donahue was clearly accustomed to people heeding his command. Very well then. She would do as he desired in this instance since she certainly wasn’t about to let her own stubbornness have a negative impact on Emma.
Instead, she asked the maid for guidance, inquiring after her opinion on color, cut, and fabric, until she’d selected an emerald blue silk gown and a lavender silk one too. Both were meant to be worn off the shoulders with large puff sleeves creating a lovely silhouette. The neckline, a great deal lower than what Calista was used to, seemed shockingly daring.
“Might I have this raised a little?” she asked when she tried the blue gown on and Madame Bernarde was done pinning the bodice.
“No,” she responded in unison with Emma. “To do so would be to ruin a perfect creation.”
“Perhaps a fichu then?” Calista asked them both hopefully.
Emma stepped a bit closer to her and stilled Calista’s fidgety hands. Together, they regarded her reflection in the tall mirror while Madame Bernarde began adjusting the hem. “You are a true beauty, miss, with perfect unblemished skin and a well-proportioned bosom. I think it would be a shame not to show you off to your best advantage. This is your chance to shine – to dazzle. Don’t squander it.”
Calista knit her brow while considering Emma’s words. Her mother would never permit her to wear a dress such as this in public, nor would Calista wish to wear it in front of Mr. Thorkilson once they married. She shuddered at the very idea. The last thing she’d want was to encourage his advances more than necessary. Rather, she believed she’d take a liking to high necked gowns with long sleeves as soon as she became his wife.
But would she feel the same about Mr. Donahue?
A different sort of shiver swept through her as she imagined his gaze upon her tonight. Dark, intense, and strangely exciting.
“Very well,” she said. “We’ll leave it as is.”
10
It wasn’t in Steven’s nature to be nervous. On the contrary, he was always in control, completely calm and collected. So the heat pricking the back of his neck and the jittery beat of his heart frustrated him to no end.
He flexed the fingers of his left hand, enjoying the stretch of tendon and muscle while tossing back the glass of brandy he’d ordered upon his arrival in the Imperial’s dining hall. Standing by the bar so he’d spot Miss Smith when she arrived, he let the spicy drink soothe him.