Her Dress in Disarray Read online

didn't want his money, nor did she care for his good looks. He was mannerful and intelligent but again, these didn't matter. Caralynne did not love him and she knew she never would.

  Her hands moved under the long tresses of her raven-dark hair, and she pulled it up off the nape of her neck, admiring herself in the mirror. A few pins from a nearby table held the slightly curling locks in place. Even the white shift didn't hide all of Caralynne's smooth neck and shoulders. A proper necklace, and dangling earrings, and she'd have been fit to tempt any man in the room.

  Caralynne's eyes went down her form in the mirror. She looked exquisite, and she knew it. There was something about a custom tailored dress that made her feel properly loved. Cared for. Like she wore something familiar to her, made by someone who knew her and knew what was best for her.

  The young dark haired woman froze in her subtle movements in the mirror, sky blue eyes going wide. Her little mouth dropped open as she looked down the dress again, this time with a near frightened gaze. Her fingers pressed and pulled and tugged, and she turned this way and that, suddenly a flurry of activity as she stood on the spot.

  Where was it? Would it be there? Was it real? Was it possible?

  And there it was. Under the little flap of material that signified the waist of the dress, the transition from bodice to skirt that was identified by soft stitching and careful beading. She felt it first, then scooted closer to the mirror, lifting the little well sewn hem almost hard enough to tear the stitches. But she had to see, had to make sure.

  There were three Xs sewn into the dress, the thread matching the rest of the thread used in the dress, except that it was thicker, sturdier, meant to last. Three Xs, no bigger than her pinky fingernail when set side by side. Tiny things really, though thick with how deeply they had been sewn into the underside of the material of the flap. Three Xs. But three were all she needed.

  Caralynne flew out of her bedroom, barely pausing to clutch at a cloak as she dashed down the hallway. She was heading for the door before her brain caught up with her feet. She didn't even know where she was going! Pausing in her flight, she turned on her slippered heels and ran down the grand foyer towards Gregory's study.

  He was inside, and she could see from the glossy look in his blue eyes that he had drunk many cups of wine since she had departed with the dress. When he looked up and saw her coming towards him in the very garment he was sure she'd never wear out of her bedroom, he stood up on wobbly feet, mouth open. Caralynne knew he thought, hoped, things had miraculously changed. But his face fell when she grasped his shoulders in her hands and shook him.

  "Where did you find the dress! Tell me! Where did you buy this?"

  "A tailor, in the woods. Let go of me, woman. What is with you? What is this about?"

  "What was the name of the shop! You must tell me, Gregory!"

  He tried to undo her claw-like grasp on his arms but to no avail. She was digging her fingers in for dear life.

  "Tell me!"

  "The Verdant Egress! Why?"

  Caralynne turned to flee the room, meaning to head for the door once more, but Gregory was quicker. His hand shot out, drunk or not, and he turned her back towards him.

  "You can't go out at this hour alone! It's unheard of!"

  "Let go of me!" Caralynne squealed, pushing at him.

  "Caralynne, I can't let you leave…not like this!"

  For a moment, she paused and looked up at him. In his cups or no, he was stronger than her. This wouldn’t be easy for her to say, but there was much at stake. And she would give anything to leave the house in this very moment. There was no time to spare.

  "If you…if you let me leave, I shall return…"

  Her hands were gentle as she pressed them lightly to his velvety vest and pushed him away from her. She saw him swallow at the merest hint of heat in her touch, but still he didn't let go of her arms.

  "When I return, I shall…I shall find you. In your…bedroom…"

  Lord Esteban's eyes widened at the suggestion. Caralynne nodded, knowing he had made the connection she intended. Whether she would keep that soft agreement she had just made or not, she didn't care. But she needed to leave. Now.

  "When you return," Gregory said carefully, "I'll be in my bedroom. Attend me there. Like a wife should…"

  Caralynne nodded this time and slowly, Lord Esteban let her go. Then she turned and left the room, running for the door that a servant was already opening for her. With barely enough time to draw her cloak hood up over her head, she ran out into the rain and into the night.

  The shop was called The Verdant Egress. No doubt it was located in the town at the bottom of the hill from the Esteban Estates. Caralynne, however, went in the opposite direction, trying to remember what she could about the countryside. Egress could mean many things, she knew, though she doubted Gregory would have understood the word. It could mean door, exit or entrance, or simply the way out. But it could also mean road, route, trail, path. Hoping she was right about the obscure connection, the young woman continued to run down the road, turning at this or that corner until she was quite lost.

  Out of breath, panting heavily, Caralynne turned her face up to the sky. The rain was beginning to ebb, and the clouds were parting, revealing a distant and soulful half moon that hung in the sky like the last drop of moisture, portentous and patient all at once. Caralynne let the last of the rain sprinkle her face, then slowly turned her chin downward to survey where she was.

  There was a crossroads before her, a fork in the road that resulted in her having three directions to choose from. One direction no doubt went back to town, as all roads around here did eventually. One would lead her out of Esteban Province altogether, towards home or one of the neighboring provinces. And the third…

  She blinked and stared down the green lit path. Strange lamps were set along that meager road that meandered into a grove of short trees. No carriage would fit in there, not easily at least. But the path was lit by the strange green lamps all the same. Their glow disappeared around a corner, to parts of the forest she couldn't see. But Caralynne knew that this was the path she had to follow.

  Somehow, she found her breath once more and began to run. Her cloak was billowing out behind her, and mud shot up at every step she took, splashing onto her dress and making it drag heavy against her feet. Still she pushed on, into the forest and under the canopy of interwoven branches. Breathing hard, she spied a house in the distance and began to make her way towards it. It was a few steps from the muddy road, and when she pressed herself against the rather rickety wooden door, she half expected that it wouldn't open under the light quick rapping of her knuckles.

  "P-please!" she sobbed, then hung her head, cheek pressing to the splintery grey planks of the door. "Please…don't let it be too late…"

  Suddenly the door seemed to cave in more than open, and Caralynne felt her slight weight falling forward. Falling, falling, until someone caught her and dragged her upright. And the lips that pressed to hers were so familiar, so warm and full and welcoming, she didn't even question. Her arms slipped around the thick neck the lips belonged to, and she clung on to the form in front of her for dear life, far beyond hoping and praying for this moment.

  At last the man who had caught drew his mouth away from hers, pulling her into the house fully and closing the door without ever letting her go.

  "Shhh," he whispered. "Hush, dear one. My Cara, sweet Cara. Shhh…"

  Caralynne Esteban sobbed loudly, feeling a rush of tears flood to her eyes. She hadn't cried in ever so long. In eight long and lonely months. Since her father's awful decree, she hadn't cried a single tear. And now her eyes felt like they would leak forward, her cheeks beginning to burn for the salty feel of tears rushing down them.

  "It's okay, my love, you're here. You came."

  The man pulled her lightly against him, and they sat down on the edge of a thick mattress on an old wooden bedframe. Caralynne leaned against the man she loved, truly loved, and let him hold her.
Eventually he pulled her up into his lap and held her like a child while she sobbed, caring nothing for how long it took her to calm herself. Only when she was ready to speak did he smile into her eyes and stroke her cheeks, wiping her tears away.

  "I thought I would never see you again," she whispered, hiccupping softly.

  The man nodded. "I thought the same, but you knew the code. You remembered. And now you're here."

  Caralynne lifted her lips up to him and he let her kiss him for a moment before pulling away, so he could look into her eyes once more.

  "I missed you," the man whispered and Caralynne nodded, sighing softly and sinking against his chest.

  "I missed you too."

  His name was Timbor. He was Timbor the Tailor, known only as that. She had no idea what he called himself now, of course. There was no way he would dare to show himself, even at his own store. No doubt he had his daughter running the shop in town, and she was a sufficient tailor in her own right. But Timbor was an excellent master of his craft, had always been the best in the land. Until he fell in love with the Lord-Regent's daughter, sweet and young Caralynne, twenty years his junior.

  He hadn't meant to fall in love with the girl. He'd known her since birth, as well as any of her nannies or governesses might have known her. Timbor had made her infantile bedding and bonnets, had gifted her father with her pearl-beaded christening gown, and had made