Lost Lady by Jude Deveraux Read Free Book Online Page B

lady. There was no mention of price, but then I got the impression Monsieur Travis didn’t need to ask.”
    Opening her mouth and then closing it, Regan smiled. So! The big, brawling Colonial thought he was still in the forests of America! It might be fun to play with fabrics and trims for the day, to pretend to order an extensive wardrobe, and then watch Travis’s face when he received a bill higher than any sum he’d ever imagined. Of course, she’d have the bill presented before the women began to cut the clothes; she wouldn’t want them to lose out when Travis couldn’t pay.
    â€œWhere shall we start?” Regan asked sweetly, her eyes dancing as she thought of defeating the braggart.
    â€œPerhaps with day dresses,” Madame Rosa suggested, lifting the samples of muslin.
    Hours later, Regan was quite wistful about the whole plan. Too bad she wasn’t going to get the clothes, because she’d planned a wardrobe a princess would love. There were muslin dresses of every color and trim, ballgowns of satin and velvet, walking dresses, a riding habit which made Regan laugh since she had no idea how to ride a horse, capes, cloaks, redingotes, spencers, as well as many nightgowns, camisoles, and lace-edged petticoats. When she finished, there wasn’t a single fabric she hadn’t used and very few colors.
    The noon meal was brought to them, and Regan was glad the session was over because she was getting tired.
    â€œBut we have only started,” Madame Rosa said. “The furrier is coming this afternoon with the milliner, the cobbler, and the glovemaker. And Mademoiselle must be measured for everything.”
    â€œOf course,” Regan whispered. “How could I have forgotten?”
    As the afternoon wore on, she ceased to be astonished at anything. The furrier brought pelts of sable, ermine, chinchilla, beaver, lynx, wolf, and angora goat, and she chose linings, collars, and cuffs for the coats she’d already selected. The cobbler took samples of cloth, planning to dye a pair of soft, heelless slippers to match every outfit, and he described the walking boots he would make. The milliner and Madame Rosa coordinated hats and clothes with the glovemaker.
    At dark, everyone’s energy began to fade, especially Regan’s. She felt bad at the thought that the day’s work would come to nothing because no American could possibly pay for all the clothes she’d ordered. She told Madame Rosa she was to submit everyone’s bills to Travis before a pair of scissors was raised, that she should see the money in her hands before she started filling the order. The dressmaker smiled politely and said she’d have it ready first thing in the morning.
    When she was finally alone, Regan slumped into a chair, weary from the long day and the constant feeling of guilt. All day she’d known she was playing a game, but the tradespeople were going to be very angry when they learned that their day’s work would go unpaid.
    By the time she heard Travis’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, she was feeling quite low—and it was all his fault. The moment he opened the door, she threw her shoe at him, hitting him on the shoulder.
    â€œWhat’s this?” he grinned. “I thought tonight you’d at least be a little glad to see me. You’re always complaining because you have no clothes.”
    â€œI did not ask you to do anything about my clothes! You have no rights over me whatsoever and especially not to take me to your barbaric country. I will not go, do you hear me? I am English, and I will stay in England.”
    â€œWhere all your family and friends are?” he asked sarcastically. “I’ve just spent another day trying to find where you’ve spent your life, and I can find nothing. Damn them!” he said, running his hands through his hair. “What kind of people could discard a child like you?”
    Perhaps it was the