“My lord, intelligence is not original. There are countless people—even women—who are believed to be overwhelmingly smart. They’re called bluestockings, and I am the bluest of them all.”
“I tell you, that is a good thing!” Then before she could repeat her objections, he stepped directly in front of her, forcing her to stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk. “Listen to me. I can help you with the little things. People’s names, how to gain their attention, all of the simple things.”
“Simple!” she cried.
“Yes, simple for me at least. You may have to do a bit of studying.” He winked at her. “But that is your forte, is it not?”
“Why are you forever winking at me? What does that mean?” she cried out.
He stared at her for a moment, seeing her genuine distress, and he felt an equal confusion. Who needed an explanation of a wink? She did, apparently, and so he answered as honestly as he could. “I suppose it means that I like you.”
She frowned as she considered his words. In the end, she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s what it always means.”
“It does with me. When I wink at you, it means I like you.” And now he had a clue as to why she hadn’t taken before. She didn’t seem to understand the usual cues. But that was something that could be learned. “Lady Gwen, if ever you don’t understand something I’m doing, pray ask me to explain. I shall be all too happy to answer.”
She stared at him, clearly thinking about it. “I will, if you will swear not to laugh at me.”
And there he heard the pain of a woman who had been sneered at all her life. Unable to fit in, she had withdrawn and refused to shine for anyone else ever again. “I swear. Even more, I swear I shall make you appreciate your beautiful intelligence and your wicked sense of humor so you won’t care what anyone else thinks. And once that happens, everyone will be so amazed that they will try to copy everything you do.” His smile widened. “Even to the point of buying your signature flower from me at a grossly inflated price.”
She stared at him with no more objections to voice—at least no new ones—and he held her gaze.
“I know you don’t believe me,” he said, “but this is where I excel. I promise it will work. Can you not trust me?”
She shook her head, the gesture too small for the misery in her eyes. “You cannot promise that. No one could.”
“No man can promise the future, and yet I am still confident.” And when she didn’t speak, he pressed her further. “I am the expert on bringing things to popularity, am I not? You said so yourself.”
“I did,” she grudgingly admitted.
“I can do it,” he said. “But you need to try with your whole heart, Lady Gwen.”
She took a deep breath, one that lifted her bosom and momentarily distracted him. “I promise to do that provided I can bring Lilah with me everywhere. She needs to find a husband and—”
“Agreed!”
It startled Jackson that he was so happy to finally gain her agreement. Normally he looked for easy compliance in all his business endeavors. He knew what he was doing and anyone who questioned him merely wasted time and energy. But far from being exhausted by their battle, he felt strangely exhilarated. He guessed that Lady Gwen did not give her trust easily, and yet she had given it to him. That was a victory worthy of an epic poem.
Buoyed by his success, he pulled out a page of foolscap and showed it to her. “I have made some preliminary sketches for your wardrobe. I have no skill with a pen, but I hope you can make sense of these.”
She took them and frowned, turning them slightly left and right.
“What are these? Ribbons?” she asked as she stepped around him to let the full light of the sun land on his ugly sketch.
“Only one here and here.” He gestured to her hair and bodice on the paper. “I’d like to use them to tie in the flowers.”
She frowned at the design. “The ribbons will have to be very large to hold and hide a small water vase to keep them fresh.”
He hadn’t thought about that. “Excellent suggestion. Perhaps we could discuss it in here?”
She looked up and frowned as if she hadn’t realized how far they’d walked. “How did we get to Madame Juliette’s?”
How lucky he was that Lady Gwen frequented the same modiste as Isabelle. Though he’d never had occasion to discuss Isabelle’s wardrobe, he had been called upon to find various fabrics that were difficult to locate. He had excelled at that task, and Juliette had reason to be grateful to him. Hopefully that was enough for her to throw herself into this task.
He opened the modiste’s door and set his hand to the small of her back as he ushered her in. You would think that his hands were made of ice given the way her back seemed to ripple at his touch and she all but leaped inside.
Clearly, the woman did not like his touch. That was going to be difficult if he were to help dress her in his flowers. Fortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell on the problem as Madame Juliette rushed forward.
“Lord Sayres, I’m so glad you made it.” The lady clapped her hands with enthusiasm. “How can I help you today?”