To Tame a Dangerous Lord (Courtship Wars 5)

“Because my friend is a renowned courtesan. Fanny had a genteel upbringing but left home when she was sixteen to seek her fortune. We have known each other since we were in leading strings, though. In fact, we were neighbors and bosom friends in Hampshire and played together as children.” Arabella wrinkled her nose in amusement. “My sisters and I refused to repudiate our friendship with Fanny, much to the chagrin of the ton, but you might not care to be associated with her.”

Madeline was a little surprised at the sisters’ relationship with a famous courtesan, but she had no objection. “I don’t mind in the least. I would be grateful for any help she could give me.”

“Trust me, her help will be substantial. She was instrumental in aiding both me and my sisters in our understanding of men and husbands. But we should keep your consultations confidential so you don’t invite scandal unnecessarily.”

When an image of Rayne’s imperious grandmother flashed through her mind, Madeline murmured her agreement. “That would probably be wise, given Haviland’s illustrious relations.”

“Didn’t you say that he is away on business?” Arabella asked. “How much time do we have before he returns home?”

“I am not certain,” she admitted. “That is part of the problem—I am not really a part of his life so he didn’t feel the need to keep me informed of his plans.”

“Well, we will soon change that,” her neighbor said with conviction. “But we had best spend the entire day in London. While Madame Rousseau is fitting you, I will send word to Fanny and ask her to receive us this afternoon if she can manage to break free. And in between, we can visit the shops. You needn’t worry, Madeline. Roslyn and I will ensure that you have the perfect wardrobe, and Fanny will oversee the rest. Between the three of us, we will turn you into a bride that Haviland cannot fail to notice.”

Madeline smiled tentatively, feeling optimistic for the first time since speaking her wedding vows. She’d been crushingly disheartened when Rayne had left her bed so unceremoniously, but now she saw the silver lining in his abrupt departure. She could make use of his absence to turn herself from a caterpillar into a butterfly. No doubt it would take quite some time and effort.

They called for Roslyn on the way to the dressmaker’s salon, and Arabella spent the short drive to Madame Rousseau’s explaining to her sister what was needed. Madeline soon learned how fortunate she was to be taken under their wing.

Their attempt to turn her into a fashionable lady began with making countless decisions from an overwhelming number of options. Together they pored over sketches of various garment styles and designs and debated a dizzying array of fabrics and colors before winnowing down selections. The choices the sisters made in conjunction with Madame Rousseau were exquisite—beautifully cut apparel that shouted taste and refinement and that slimmed and flattered Madeline’s buxom figure.

She felt awed by the result, and more than once had to fight a lump in her throat. She had never owned many pretty gowns—had refused to let herself yearn for them, in fact—so suddenly experiencing such riches was like awakening in a fairy tale.

The entire morning was devoted to gowns and outer garments. After partaking of a light luncheon supplied by the modiste, the ladies set out to visit other shops that were the next-highest priority … milliners for hats and bonnets and cobblers for shoes and slippers. Since time was growing short until their appointment with Fanny at three o’clock, Arabella suggested they return to London later in the week for such accessories as chemises and petticoats and corsets, silk stockings and garters, gloves, fans, and jewelry.

Madeline’s confidence in their plan grew as the day wore on, in large part because Arabella and Roslyn were so certain it would work. Roslyn’s graciousness and warmth was particularly infectious. She was every bit as approachable and understanding as Arabella, and she heartily approved of the proposal to involve their notorious friend Fanny Irwin, responding with a private disclosure of her own when Madeline admitted her hopes about her marriage.

“This past summer,” Roslyn confessed, her tone one of sympathy and kindness, “I sought Fanny’s advice about making a gentleman fall in love with me. If you wish to make Haviland love you, you could not find a better champion than Fanny.”

If you wish to make Haviland love you. Madeline felt her breath catch at the simple phrase. She had set her sights on making Rayne desire her, thinking that would be a daunting enough task. But now she let herself wonder if it would be possible to win his heart.

No, you would be a fool to raise your hopes so high, Madeline scolded herself. It would be enough to have Rayne want her. Besides, she added, striving to dampen her rash optimism, to achieve even that much, the courtesan would have to be an utter miracle worker.

It took very little time later that afternoon, however, for Madeline to decide Fanny Irwin indeed might be able to work miracles.

Shortly after arriving at the courtesan’s private residence in a quiet, surprisingly elegant neighborhood north of Hyde Park, the sisters left her in Fanny’s capable hands, with Arabella promising to call back for her in two hours.

“Give us three hours,” Fanny said briskly, acknowledging the difficulty of the challenge ahead of her.

Shepherding her guest up the staircase to the second floor, Fanny led the way through her bedchamber and into a well-lit dressing room, then got right down to business by ordering Madeline to remove her pelisse and gown and corset.

Madeline felt extremely self-conscious when she had stripped down to her shift, but Fanny appeared oblivious to any discomfiture. Frowning, the courtesan walked in a slow circle around Madeline, studying her closely while analyzing her physical assets and drawbacks.

“Your eyes are definitely your best feature,” she finally proclaimed.

Madeline couldn’t disagree. Only her eyes had any real claim to beauty.

“But you also have a very pleasing figure, lithe and curvaceous. The kind of body men dream of. Surely your husband has noticed.”

When Madeline felt herself flushing, Fanny smiled dismissively. “If I am to advise you, Lady Haviland, you must overcome your modesty at once, for I intend to go into much more intimate detail with you before we are done. As I was saying, you have the lush sort of body that appeals greatly to men.”

Her gaze left Madeline’s lavish breasts and returned to her face. “Your lips are unfashionably full, but that again is fortunate, since men will tend to think of you as kissable. Has no gentleman ever attempted to steal a kiss from you?”

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“Once or twice,” Madeline conceded. Actually Baron Ackerby had attempted it more frequently, but an arrogant roué did not count as a gentleman, despite his noble rank.

Fanny made another slow circle, then seated Madeline at a dressing table before a large mirror and turned her attention to her client’s mass of ordinary brown hair.

“The color is acceptable but the style … Do you always wear your hair scraped back so severely?”