Scandal of the Year by Laura Lee Guhrke Read Free Book Online Page B

“But sensation wouldn’t help me a bit if you didn’t have the panache to carry off my designs. What about a new afternoon ensemble? You can parade around the Row every day telling everyone how wonderful my spring collection is, and I shall gain at least half a dozen new clients.”
    Julia laughed and relented. “All right, all right. You’ve twisted my arm.”
    Vivian cast another glance over her. “I like that you’ve gained a bit of weight,” she said, hooking her arm through Julia’s and guiding her to a nearby settee of black-and-white striped velvet. “When I last saw you at Pixy Cove, you were so terribly thin, dearest.”
    Vivian gestured for her to sit, then glanced around and beckoned to one of the tall, sylphlike assistants standing about the room. “Miss Wellesley,” she said as the girl approached, “I want you to display the spring afternoon toilettes for Lady Yardley, if you please. Ask Miss Lovell to assist you.”
    The girl strutted off with the rather insolent, catlike stride all living mannequins seemed to possess, and Vivian settled herself beside Julia on the settee. “So, I’m dying to know how it was to relax at the spas of Biarritz over the winter, now that you’ve cut the chains of matrimony and are a free woman.”
    “Divine,” she confessed. “I cannot deny it. But really, Viv,” she added with a hint of surprise, “why all this talk of chains? When did you develop such an aversion to marriage?”
    Her friend shrugged. “I don’t know that I would use the word aversion . But I am thirty-two, remember. I’ve been on the shelf for quite some time.” She opened her arms in a sweeping gesture of her surroundings. “Besides, with all this, when would I have time for a husband and children?”
    “I suppose you’re right. But you’re not judging the entire institution of matrimony based on my horrible experience, are you? Yardley isn’t . . .” Julia felt her throat closing up at the mention of her former husband, and she swallowed hard, working to regain her voice. “Not all men are like Yardley.”
    “True, but nonetheless, I don’t think I shall risk it. Given the opportunity, would you ever marry again?”
    “God, no!” she said, appalled by the very idea.
    “You see?” Vivian laughed. “We haven’t changed since childhood. We’re still in agreement about nearly everything.”
    “Ma’am?”
    Both women looked up as Miss Wellesley approached, and it was clear something untoward had happened, for the mannequin had not changed into one of the afternoon gowns she was supposed to be modeling for Julia, and her usual expression of sophisticated boredom had been replaced by unmistakable panic. She leaned down to whisper in Vivian’s ear, and as the dressmaker listened, her auburn brows lifted in surprise.
    “She loathes the chiffon, you say? Loathes it?”
    At Miss Wellesley’s frantic nod, Vivian sighed. “Just like a princess to have more money than taste,” she murmured and turned to Julia. “Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Montenegro, does not like the blue silk chiffon I am recommending for her ball gown, though it is perfect for her figure. She is demanding my immediate presence in the fitting rooms. Do you mind if I leave you for a moment?”
    “Go, go,” Julia said, laughing, waving a hand toward the fitting rooms in the back of the shop. “It doesn’t do to keep a princess waiting!”
    “I’ll be back. In the meantime, I shall have Miss Wellesley carry on with those afternoon ensembles for you.” She glanced at the mannequin, who immediately departed. “I’ll also have some fabrics brought out for you to look at,” Vivian added over her shoulder as she started after her employee. “I’ve a lovely lilac mousseline de soie I think would be divine for you.”
    Vivian departed, and to occupy herself while she waited, Julia reached for the most recent edition of La Mode Illustrée from the table, but she had barely opened the fashion