received any visitors. The only outsiders to come calling had been her uncle’s men. Had they returned?
Hands clenched, she glanced around the room. What should she do? If she stayed quiet and didn’t answer the door, maybe whoever it was would go away.
The knock came again. Harder. Louder. And then a voice. A woman’s voice.
“Miss Knightsbridge? Hello? Is anyone home? It’s Madame Raschelle.”
Elena frowned. Who on earth was Madame Raschelle, and what was she doing here?
“The dressmaker,” the woman clarified. “From Brasov. I have a delivery for Lord Drake.”
Lord Drake? He hadn’t said anything about being royalty. Curious, she went to open the door.
“Miss Knightsbridge?”
Elena nodded. Madame Raschelle was tall and lean. Her hair was bright red under a frilly bonnet that was the same shade of green as her eyes. Her russet-colored silk gown and colorful fringed shawl were like nothing Elena had ever seen before, except in period movies.
“May I come in?” Madame Raschelle asked, a note of amusement in her voice.
“What? Oh, yes, of course.” Elena took a step back, allowing the other woman entrance, only then noticing that she had several large plastic garment bags draped over one arm, and a large handbag over the other.
“I’ve brought you a number of gowns to try on, my dear,” Madame Raschelle said. She dropped the garment bags onto the trestle table, along with her bag.
“Gowns?”
“For the wedding.”
“Oh, but I can’t . . . I mean, I don’t have any money to pay for . . .”
Madame Raschelle dismissed Elena’s concern with a wave of one beringed hand. “Not to worry, my dear. Lord Drake has taken care of that.”
“But . . .” Elena sighed. There was no use arguing with the dressmaker. She obviously had orders from the master of the castle.
Madame Raschelle removed her shawl, then began unzipping the bags, pulling out one dress after another, each more beautiful than the last. Rich silks and brocades, lush velvets, smooth satins, most of them in varying shades of white from ivory to cream. Two gowns stood out from the rest, one the color of a midsummer sky, the other a pale rose. In addition, there were a number of undergarments.
Elena could only stare at the amazing assortment. So many styles and fabrics. How could she ever be expected to choose just one gown when they were all so exquisite?
Madame Raschelle held up a velvet gown with a square neck and long fitted sleeves that ended in points. “This is one of my favorites,” she said, smiling.
Elena ran her hand over the soft, cream-colored velvet. Lace edged the neckline. The skirt was gathered up on one side, revealing more lace. It reminded Elena of dresses worn in medieval times.
“Why don’t you try it on?” the dressmaker suggested.
With a nod, Elena took the dress and hurried up the stairs to her chamber. She changed under the curious eyes of the cat, then glanced around, only then remembering that there was no mirror in the room. She frowned as she realized there were no mirrors in any of the rooms of the castle.
Lifting her skirts, she made her way down the stairs.
“So,” Madame Raschelle asked, smiling. “Does it suit?”
“I need a mirror.”
The dressmaker glanced around the room, then rummaged in her bag and produced a large hand mirror, which she offered to Elena.
“Oh,” Elena murmured, “it is lovely, isn’t it?”
“Quite. Perhaps you should try them all on?”
There was no need, Elena thought. She had already made up her mind. Still, who knew when she would ever have a chance like this again? Between the two of them, they carried all the garments up to Elena’s room.
Trying on all the gowns was not only time-consuming, but a mistake. Elena had been certain the velvet was the gown she wanted, but there was a lovely silk adorned with pearls, a beautiful satin with an empire waist, an elegant ivory brocade fit for a queen. How was she ever to decide?
“Lord Drake