Midnight Rose (19 page)

“It’s fine.”
Erin ground out the words icily. She couldn’t care less what she got married in, could hardly think straight, anyway, past the blinding rage over Ryan being so audacious as to pick out lingerie and have it sent to her, as if she were some kind of whore herself!
Damn him
, she inwardly cursed.

Arlene pressed on to divert her anger. “Rosa said there were two boxes from Cherise. What was in the other one, dear?”

“Don’t tell me he ordered that, too!” She stopped pacing to stare at her mother. “It’s a dove silk suit. Quite lovely. Quite tasteful. Modest. Not like anything he would choose. Now that, I would say, is accurate to call a mistake. I’ll check on that, too.” She started gathering up the boxes.

Rosa did not know what was going on but quickly moved to help her repack the lingerie in the boxes and retie them with the satin ribbons.

Arlene watched, bemused, for a moment, then cautiously asked, “What are you doing, dear?”

“I’m taking everything back.”

“To Ryan? He had it delivered, and—”

“Oh, I’m returning it to the store. I want him to feel like a fool when Madam Estelle has to tell him that his fiancée was insulted that he’d pick out such naughty things.” She held out a black lace gown and laughed, but inside, she had to admit she felt a warm tremor to think of wearing it for him. Still, she had to put him in his place. After all, selecting and sending such personal things was not something a man did for his fiancée. That was something he did for his mistress, and—

She froze, washed with fresh rage, for suddenly it dawned on her exactly what his motive had been.

This was his way of reminding her she was no more to him than what he’d intended when he set out to pursue her in the first place.

Well, by God, she would show him.

“Tell Ben to saddle my horse,” she snapped to Rosa as she hurried out of the room to change into riding clothes.

Arlene, stunned, called, “But why aren’t you taking one of the carriages? If you ride into town with all those boxes strapped on the back of a horse, people will see, and they’ll know where they came from, and they’ll wonder what’s going on.”

“Fine!” Erin was quick to shout over her shoulder as she went down the hall toward her room. “I hope they follow me like they did Lady Godiva, and if Ryan Youngblood is watching, I hope he’s struck blind or dead like the ones that dared look at her!”

Arlene shook her head and told Rosa, “Heaven help us when those two get together!”

Many heads did turn as Erin rode straight through the heart of Richmond. She had purposely turned the pink boxes so that the name Fine Things, emblazoned in red, shown brightly for all to see. They were also staring at her, for few women were ever seen riding astraddle a horse and wearing men’s riding breeches.

Madam Estelle’s place had been constructed in a space that had once been a very wide alley between two buildings. Cozy and intimate, it was set back from a busy street, the short way paved in cobblestones. A red-and-pink-striped canopy sheltered the steps leading up to a porch hidden behind a thick cascade of lilacs and honeysuckle vines. There were several small tables with chairs and a few empty wine bottles, which evidenced waiting clientele from the evening before.

There was no hint that it was a house of prostitution, or even a shop for ladies lingerie. Such unmentionables were certainly not advertised, so there was only a small pink-and-white plaque beside the door that simply stated, “Fine Things.”

There were two windows on each side of the curtained door, but the pink velvet drapes were closed, and Erin could not see inside. Not about to just walk right in, she lifted the brass knocker and let it drop loudly.

Almost at once the door opened, and a woman with bright red hair peered out at her. She had orange splotches of rouge oh her cheeks, and her eyelids were dusted with a gaudy shade of purple. Her lips were painted blood red, and she was wearing a yellow satin robe with some kind of fluffs’ feathers all around the collar that made Erin want to sneeze.

The woman looked Erin up and down curiously, noticed she was carrying several of her pink boxes, and said, “Yeah? What do you want?” She did not recognize Erin as anyone who had ever shopped there, and Estelle prided herself in knowing, and catering to, every rich man’s mistress in Richmond.

Erin gave her an equally thorough once over. Actually, she was dying to peek inside. She had no idea what such a place would look like, and curiosity burned. She gave herself a mental shake. There was no time for wondering. She wanted to get her business over with as quickly as possible. Crisply, she said, “I believe Mr. Ryan Youngblood did some shopping with you recently.”

Estelle continued to stare blankly, even though it suddenly dawned on her who this woman was.

Erin was growing impatient. People passing by on the main street, just a short distance away, could glance in and see her standing there on the porch, and she didn’t want that. “Well?” She drew a ragged breath, struggling to hold all the boxes in her arms. “You do know Mr. Youngblood, don’t you? And these things did come from your shop, didn’t they?”

Estelle was also losing patience. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, girlie, and I don’t have time to stand here and—”

“Neither do I!” Erin released her hold, let the boxes fall to the porch. With a wave of dismissal, she stepped back to declare icily, “Just tell Mr. Youngblood that his fiancée is very indignant that he would send her such insulting and degrading garments, and that your delivery person undoubtedly made a mistake in not taking them to his mistress.”

With that, she turned and walked down the steps as fast as her shaking legs would carry her.

Estelle opened the door all the way and furiously began to pick up the parcels. Behind her, Corrisa Buckner, dressed to go out, watched. She had been on her way down the stairs but paused to witness the scene, curious when she had heard Ryan’s name mentioned.

“Arrogant little chit!” Estelle fumed as she began to gather the filmy lingerie that had spilled out of the boxes. “Ryan must have rocks in his head to get himself involved with a cold fish like her. He sure ain’t gonna find no warmth in her bed. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one to tell him that, either. He’s going to be madder than drawin’ from a deck with five aces when he finds out what she’s done. I’ll just stack these things in the back room, and the next time he comes in, he can do whatever he wants to with ’em.”

Corrisa couldn’t help laughing as she stooped to help her. “He’s going to be mad, all right.”

“Maybe you’ll wind up with ’em,” Estelle offered, then couldn’t resist adding tartly, “I haven’t seen him around here lately. Maybe you need something new to entice him.”

At that, Corrisa bristled. She was not at all happy over the way Ryan had stopped coming around. Straightening, she continued on her way and snapped, “Pick it up yourself.”

She saw that Erin was heading across the street in the direction of Madame Cherise’s shop.

So that was Ryan’s future wife, she mused, the woman everyone was talking about as they tried to figure out just how she had managed to make him forget all about his betrothal to Ermine Coley. It was said she was quite beautiful, though Corrisa had not had a good look. She could see she had long, sable-black hair that fell silkily all the way to her incredibly tiny waist. And she was tall, with a well-rounded bottom that was presently swishing furiously from side to side in the tight men’s breeches she was wearing.

Corrisa smiled to herself. Obviously, Erin Sterling had a lot of spunk, just the kind of woman Ryan needed for a wife. And, even though Corrisa had no illusions about who or what she was, and made it a rule not to get personally involved with any of her customers, she had to admit secretly she was quite fond of Ryan.

Deciding she wanted to see his future bride up close, she started to follow her.

She was about to step out of the cobblestone alley and cross the street when she slowed at the sound of female voices—haughty, angry voices—and they were obviously talking about Erin.

“Look at her,” one of them said waspishly. “Dressed in men’s clothes. And she’s supposed to be so devastatingly gorgeous?”

They moved onto the boardwalk directly in front of Corrisa, still watching Erin. Quickly, she stepped to the side, in the shadows, so as not to be seen. She recognized one of the two girls as the daughter of Tyrone Manning. He was one of her regular customers, and Carolyn had been pointed out to her by Estelle when they were out shopping one day. She did not know the other girl, but since she seemed to match Carolyn in mannerisms and comments, decided she was equally snobbish.

“Did you know,” Carolyn remarked snidely, “that my Carl had the nerve to say he didn’t blame Ryan for being mesmerized by that little schemer, because he agreed with all the other menfolk who think she’s absolutely ravishing?”

Her companion cried, “Why, that’s ridiculous. Keith said the same thing when I told him how all the decent folk of Richmond are appalled that Ryan could even think of marrying Zachary Tremayne’s stepdaughter. Why, poor Victoria is going to have a fit when she gets home and finds out what her son has done.

“And I agree with you,” she added with a sniff of disdain. “She’s not so pretty. Why, she’s tall and positively gangly looking. There’s nothing feminine about her. Certainly not like dear, sweet Ermine, who looks like a dainty porcelain doll.”

Corrisa pressed her fingertips against her lips to smother a giggle. She might not know who Carolyn Manning’s friend was but sure knew the man she spoke of—Keith. He came at least three times a week to frolic with Josephine, one of Estelle’s younger girls. And, she thought with wicked delight, she knew Carolyn’s beau as well. Carl Whitfield was also one of her regular customers.

Suddenly, Carolyn turned around but did not see Corrisa as she looked toward Estelle’s place and cried excitedly, “That’s where she came from! Why, I’ll bet she was in there buying her…unmentionables.” She gave a soft gasp, then laughed shrilly. “Oh, Mary Susan, now we know how she mesmerized poor Ryan. She’s using the wiles of a whore!”

Mary Susan Hightower was quick to agree, her eyes narrowing with contempt. “Of course. She’s driving him crazy and holding out for marriage. How shameful!”

Carolyn offered, “She knows that’s the only way she’ll ever get a
decent
man. Ryan is too noble to take a woman out of wedlock.”

Now Corrisa was having a terrible time holding back her giggles. She clamped her teeth together till her jaws ached. The thought of Ryan being so noble as to keep a woman virtuous was hysterical.

Turning once more to stare after Erin, Carolyn cried, “She’s headed for Madame Cherise’s shop. Let’s follow her and see what she’s buying there.”

“Yes, let’s do.” Mary Susan cried, lifting her skirts to step out into the street and hurry along beside her. “That should be very interesting, since Cherise sells decent things.”

Corrisa followed close behind, not about to miss anything.

Madame Cherise glanced up at the tinkling sound of the bell above the door. “Ahh, Mademoiselle Sterling.” She smiled in pleased recognition, then saw the box Erin was carrying. Frowning, she asked, “Is something wrong? Did the wedding gown not fit? I had your measurements, and—”

“No. I suppose the gown fits fine. To tell the truth, I haven’t even tried it on.” She laid the box on the counter, untied the string, and lifted the lid to reveal the dove silk suit beneath the layers of tissue. “I’m here about this. There’s been a mistake. My mother said she didn’t order it, so I wanted to return it.”

Cherise was quick to say, “But mademoiselle. There is no mistake. Monsieur Youngblood, he came in and ordered this suit for you, to be delivered with your wedding gown. I worked day and night to have it ready,” she added, almost defensively.

Erin pointed to the outfit, expression incredulous. “He ordered this?” She shook her head, bewildered. “But…why?”

“He said you would need it for your nuptial journey.” She hesitated as she realized Erin was truly baffled. “Did he not tell you of his travel plans?”

Erin shook her head slowly, her gaze transfixed to the suit. Another surprise. And this one was lovely.

The bell after the door jingled again, but Erin was too deep in thought to be aware of anything going on around her.

Cherise recognized Carolyn and Mary Susan, gave a nod to let them know she would be with them soon. “So,” she prodded Erin impatiently, “since there is no mistake, I can repack the suit for you to take with you, or perhaps you’d like to step in the back and try it on while you’re here, to make sure it fits.” She motioned to the curtain that concealed the dressing area.

Erin came out of her reverie and picked up the box. “No. I’m sure it’s fine.” She turned to go and bumped right into Carolyn Manning, automatically apologized, and brushed on by.

With a lift of her chin, Carolyn launched her verbal attack. “This must be a terribly busy time for you, Erin. You seem to have so many different places to shop—suits from here, lingerie from Fine Things.”

Cherise gasped to hear such a thing and did not notice the bell ringing once more as Corrisa stepped inside the shop.

Erin stiffened at Carolyn’s remark but maintained her composure, commanding herself not to be goaded into an unpleasant scene. She continued on her way.