Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Three Weeks Later

"I beg your pardon, my lady, but we simply do not provide attire for... dogs."

Blanche glared at the young woman behind the counter of the modiste she was visiting with her best friend, Miss Nicola Eversley. She was a pretty thing, with a proud chin and astute blue eyes, and a skill for sewing that made her shop one of the most sought after in London, but that hardly meant she had to be so stubborn. "Well, you could make some, then," Blanche told her pointedly.

The modiste eyed the shivering creature Blanche had deposited on the counter between them with a look of utter disdain. Penelope, her Italian Greyhound Nicola had gifted her a few days ago, looked up at Blanche with an adoring look in her beady black eyes while her entire tiny, long-limbed body trembled with nerves- or excitement. She never knew which, the dog simply trembled as much as it did anything else.

"I am going to die from embarrassment," Nicola mumbled. She was standing on a raised dais at the back of the shop, having just been fitted for the last alterations to her wedding dress. Her friend straightened the skirts of her soft grey day dress before stepping down and moving through the colourful swatches of fabrics to stand besides Blanche. "I begged you not to do this."

"Penelope is a bridesmaid too," Blanche said tartly. "She needs the proper attire to match my own."

"Oh, God, Blanche please there are people entering," Nicola whined, her amber eyes frantically moving over the ladies now entering the modiste and the shivering grey dog on the countertop.

"So?"

Nicola gave her a pained look and then covered her face with her gloved hands, as if to hide her identity. Blanche scoffed wordlessly and turned back to the modiste. As much as she loved her, Nicola could be a right prude at times. With a wild mane of tawny hair that battled constantly at her pins and bonnet ties, Nicola never said a word out of place and epitomized politeness. Only rarely, and mostly only when Blanche encouraged it or instigated it, had she indulged in a bit of unladylike insurgence. "Take her measurements, go on," Blanche insisted, stroking her dog's ears affectionately. "You'll be commissioned handsomely for your time, I assure you."

The two ladies who had entered began to glance notably at the dog and Blanche, twittering their amusement behind their fans. Blanche recognised them however as the Southcott cousins- two pretty blonde girls with an unfortunately identical crooked front tooth. "Oh, do stop laughing, Anne, and come forward and agree with me rather," Blanche insisted. The younger of the two ladies gave her wide eyes and, lest she offend, moved forward reluctantly. Blanche's family gave her plenty of leverage in social situations, something she wasn't averse to utilizing if she were able to. Especially if it meant she could torment her poor, ridiculously shy best friend who was soon to be Lady Nicola Blackwood, the new Marchioness of Northwick, as she was due to marry Blanche's brother in less than a week.

"Uh," Anne said, her cheeks blooming with colour. "I suppose, yes, the dog would look nice in a... cerise lace." This she finished lamely, as if she couldn't quite believe she were discussing the matter, and Blanche sighed with annoyance.

"Clearly," she said with grave import, "cerise would make her look like a plum. Besides, I am wearing white so I need a nice little gown of the same colour for Penelope." She gave the modiste a stern look. "So, make it work? I'll wait."

The modiste seemed to relent then and her shoulders slumped slightly with resignation before she reached for her measuring tape. She would be a fool to deny the wages that she would earn from the assignment and she certainly wouldn't want to offend the youngest sister of the Marquis of Northwick. "I would also," Blanche added with a wide grin, "like to commission you to design Penelope a substantial and beautiful wardrobe."