The lofty matrons would consider Lissette too familiar for a lady’s maid, but she put Claudia at ease, and that was all that mattered.
Claudia followed Lissette into the dressing room. The maid flung back the door of the armoire to reveal a host of silk gowns in an array of colours. Monsieur Dariell had spared no expense when instructing the modiste in matters of her wardrobe.
“You are to attend the masquerade tonight, no?” Lissette beamed.
“Yes.” Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, Claudia added, “Though having never ventured to town, I don’t have the first clue what to wear.”
“Let me see.” Lissette pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. “Perhaps you should look at the masks.” The maid did not wait for an answer but pulled a hatbox from the top shelf. She placed it on the floor, lifted the lid and removed two sparkling creations. “We have the proud peacock or the red devil.”
Claudia admired the masks in Lissette’s hands. The blood-red mask was rimmed in black silk, boasted red and black feathers and a large onyx stone between the brows. Tiny teal jewels decorated the bronze arabesque swirls on the other mask. A teal feather served as a backdrop for a fan of small peacock feathers. The mask looked exotic and far more mysterious than the bold red one.
“Peacocks are proud creatures,” Claudia agreed. “Is there a gown that might suit it, do you think?”
Lissette’s eyes widened. “Is there a gown? Madame, there is a gown that will make every man in the room stop and stare.” The maid returned the masks to the box before drawing a cerulean blue dress from the armoire.
A soft sigh left Claudia’s lips.
The blue silk taffeta was trimmed in gold brocade. The sleeves were designed to bare the shoulders, the bodice cut scandalously low. Heavens, how would she wear such an elegant gown without looking like an imposter? One would need a natural sensuality, the confidence of royalty. Yet she was a mere country girl.
Panic surfaced.
And she thought feigning love proved challenging.
“Isn’t it marvellous, madame?” Lissette hung the dress back on the hook. She bent down, opened a drawer and withdrew a length of blue velvet ribbon. “Monsieur Dariell, he chose this choker. He said a lady has no need for jewels when she sparkles like the stars in the night sky.”
Claudia snorted. Perhaps Monsieur Dariell had another lady in mind when he chose the wardrobe.
“Well, I must try on the dress and hope it needs minimal alterations. I’m told you’re skilled with a needle and thread.”
“Oui, madame. I learnt my trade in Paris.”
“Paris? You served as a lady’s maid there before coming to England?”
A chuckle escaped Lissette’s lips. “This is my first position in a grand house. I came to England to work for Madame Armand five years ago. Monsieur Dariell, he asked me to serve you, and I owe him a debt of gratitude that I long to repay.”
Claudia drew her brows together in confusion. She wasn’t sure which question to ask first. “You’re a seamstress?”
Lissette nodded. “Monsieur Dariell said you are a lady without prejudice.”
Claudia pondered the maid’s comment. The Frenchman had been staying at Falaura Glen when Claudia accepted Mr Lockhart’s proposal.
“When did Monsieur Dariell tell you that?”
“A week ago, madame, during his last visit to the modiste.”
A week ago?
Then he was definitely speaking about someone else. Mr Lockhart must have approached another woman with the same proposition. Ridiculous as it was, Claudia couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She was the second choice—the inferior model.
“And what is the debt you owe Monsieur Dariell?”
Lissette hung her head and cast her gaze to the floor. “It is a shameful subject, madame. Please, do not make me speak of it.”
Claudia was not one to judge, nor was she one to pry. Besides, the notion that Mr Lockhart had not been completely honest left a sour taste in her mouth. Pain throbbed in the base of her throat as she held on to the feeling that she had been naive, naive to imagine he saw something in her other than a usefulness to serve his own ends.
“Then I shall try on the dress so you may make the alterations.” Claudia raised her chin and kept her voice even. She would approach the task of playing Mr Lockhart’s wife as she would any other chore—with a determination to do her best whilst remaining indifferent.
“I doubt we will need to make any adjustments, madame.” Lissette removed the gown from the armoire, shook out the material and held it against Claudia’s body. “Monsieur Dariell, he was most precise in his measurements.”