The Wedding Dress(37)
“And does he still? Have luck with the ladies?”
Herschel looked in her eyes and exhaled, his breath warm on her face. “He has you, hasn’t he? I’d fight him for you if I thought you’d take me after I won.”
“Mr. Wainscot.” Emily moved out of his arms.
“Call me Herschel, please.”
“You seem to be in no short supply of beautiful escorts, Herschel. Emmeline is quite beautiful.” Emily knew most every woman in their social circle, even the nieces, granddaughters, and relatives who came to Birmingham for long visits now and then. “How do you know her?”
“She’s the daughter of a friend.” Herschel offered Emily his arm, motioning to the refreshment table. He handed her a glass of punch, then took one for himself.
The drink was sweet and minty, but the air between Emily and Herschel was hot and sticky. Wanting to escape his company, she scanned the guests for a sign of Mother and Father. Or Phillip. But she couldn’t find them among the dancers.
“Emily,” Hershel said after a moment, “I hope I didn’t offend you earlier. I think your position is admirable.”
“You didn’t offend me, Herschel.” She strained to see where Phillip had gone, wrestling with guilt for suspecting him. Blast that Daniel Ludlow for sowing seeds of doubt in her heart. “I only hope I didn’t offend you.”
Herschel laughed. “It’d take more than pushing out of my arms to offend me.”
She sipped the last of her punch, and as she set her cup on the table, Herschel offered her his hand. “Shall we?”
Emily hesitated, then slowly gave him her hand. “We must find Phillip soon.”
“Perhaps it is upon him to find us.” Herschel swept Emily around in the dance, the sheen of his blond hair catching the sparkle of the chandelier, his magnificent smile attempting to work his charms.
“You think highly of yourself, don’t you, Herschel?”
“No more than any other man thinks of himself.”
Emily laughed, moving with him among the other guests. “Perhaps Phillip is right, you’re not a bad sort after all.”
“You pay me a high compliment.”
“We shall have to have you to dinner once we are married.”
“At your earliest convenience, please do.”
“I’ll speak to Phillip at the end of this dance.” It was then Emily caught sight of her fiancé’s broad back disappearing into the dark, secret shadows of the terrace, dancing with Emmeline Graves in his arms.
Chapter Ten
Charlotte
Charlotte carried the Herrera gown up to the sewing salon, walking under a waterfall of sunlight spilling into the shop from the skylights. The cherry hardwood gleamed beneath her feet.
Her heart still lacked light, but she felt better today, nearly a week after seeing Tim at Homewood Gourmet with his ex-fiancée. She’d slept well the last two nights, after pleading with God for some kind of peace.
Slipping the dress over the dress form, Charlotte smoothed her hand over the ivory satin bodice with handcrafted embroidery set above a full tulle skirt, one of her favorite designs.
A new client had chosen the Herrera—which was perfect for her—and had scheduled her first fitting for Saturday. Malone & Co.’s seamstress, Bethany, always inspected the gown before working with the bride.
Heading back downstairs, Charlotte pictured the bride’s face when she slipped on the Herrera, then phoned her fiancé in tears. I found my dress, baby.
Why hadn’t she ever found a nickname for Tim? A term of endearment? He was just Tim. To her recollection, he’d never called her anything but Charlotte or Char. Not babe or baby. No sweetie or honey.
And if she was honest with herself, which she had the courage to be now, Charlotte held back from him, not really willing to give up her identity as orphan girl made good.
She, Charlotte Malone, could soar high and wide all on her own. She didn’t need a man, a family, or her own Cinderella wedding to validate her. She’d proven she could make it on her own and created a good, safe, dependable life she loved.
At the bottom of the stairs, Charlotte paused when the front door opened and the bells chimed. The fragrance of roses swept into the shop. “Welcome to Malone & Co. May I help you?”
The man wandered toward her through the display of Heidi Elnora and Bray-Lindsay gowns. She tried to estimate if he was the father of a bride. Perhaps of a groom? “Are you here about a wedding?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He paused in front of her. She’d noticed his purple shirt immediately, and his blue eyes pinged Charlotte with something familiar, creating a fiery, stirring feeling in her belly. She stepped back with a gasp. Where had she seen him before?
“Did you open the trunk?” he said.
“Excuse me?” Charlotte slipped behind the sales desk and into a silky cool stream of air that hit her in the chest and swirled down to her feet.
“The trunk. From the auction. Did you open it?”
“You’re the one who sold me the trunk?” She laughed low, pressing her hand over her middle. How could she forget such an odd little man? “No, no, I, um . . .” She shrugged. “It’s welded shut.”
“Yes, but it’s good to work at redeeming a treasure.”