Chills by Heather Boyd Page A

right item to make my gowns perfect.”
    “The marquess exerts himself to choose these personally?”
    “I think he and Madame du Clair have an arrangement.” Virginia’s eyes twinkled at the thought.
    Constance’s stomach revolted again.
    “Oh, now, do not take that the wrong way. I know it sounded dreadful, but he isn’t having an affair. I simply meant that, at a later time, Jack will visit the modiste and together they add to my order. Look, do you see this gown? Do you remember it?”
    “No,” Constance confessed.
    “I didn’t choose this. Jack picks out at least three gowns each year without my advice or permission and Madame delivers them with the rest. No matter what I say, he won’t stop. I gave up arguing about it years ago because his taste is excellent. Let’s go see what is in your room.”
    With great reluctance, Constance followed Virginia to her bedchamber. As a maid displayed them, Virginia commented on each, considering what trimmings would compliment them. “My, my, Jack has a very strong opinion of what you should wear.”
    She blushed at the impropriety of having a man choose her gowns, but she couldn’t say she hated his choices. Unfortunately, he had doubled the size of her order. The parcels contained items to match: shoes, fans, reticules, and gloves. Items Constance had given no thought to.
    “Oh, this is one you simply must open yourself.” Virginia sank down amid the rustling papers at Constance’s feet and placed a heavy square parcel in her hands.
    Constance eyed the box suspiciously. “What is it?”
    “Open and see.”
    Trembling with a new burst of anxiety, Constance tore the brown wrapping paper to reveal a hinged leather box. She dug her fingertips into the join, lifting the lid slowly.
    Nestled inside on blue velvet was a single, bright gem, strung on a fine gold chain.
    She gulped. “This is paste, isn’t it?”
    “Will you feel better if I say it is? I don’t really want to lie to you.”
    Constance closed her eyes. The gem couldn’t be a diamond. But when she cracked her eyelids open again, she couldn’t truly believe the stone wasn’t authentic. Constance rested her fingertips on the cold stone. She let them slide away. She couldn’t accept this.
    When she went to close the lid, Virginia’s fingers were there—slipping the chain from its hooks, undoing the clasp, and encircling her neck with the proof of her indebtedness. Jack would not let her forget how mercenary she’d become. But the necklace, a symbol of her obligation, would return to him as soon as she had a husband. She could countenance nothing else.
    Virginia settled the stone into place over the fabric of her gown. Once she was wearing the new styles, the stone would lay between her breasts. Embarrassed by the thought of Jack’s gift hanging there, she moved to stare out the window.
    “As usual, my brother has excellent taste. You aren’t going to argue with him again about the gifts are you?”
    Constance turned around quickly, but slumped at the way Virginia grinned. Jack had warned that Virginia knew of their disagreements but she hadn’t believed him.
    “No. I promised I wouldn’t.”
    “Good, you wouldn’t believe what it feels like.”
    “Like not being able to close a book,” Constance recited, remembering Jack’s earlier words.
    “Ah, he has been honest with you. It’s about time. I was getting sick of interfering between you pair. When I think how well you once got along…” Virginia shook her head. “Do say you will keep the gowns and other things. It makes him happy to spoil us.”
      Constance tried one last appeal. “Virginia, you know how it would look if anyone found out. I will look like a kept woman. I couldn’t bear the scandal.”
    “And who would tell? My brother is nothing if not discreet. Look how well he has managed to hide this future wife of his. I have not heard a whisper of her name or even met the woman. The man knows how to keep a secret. He’s