*Everly*
The carriage comes to a stop. Thank God.
“And we’re at the dressmaker’s. Let’s see about getting you some proper clothing”. He says.
Proper clothing ? As though what I am wearing isn’t proper.
But when I step into the shop, my irritation with him dims. I have been in shops before, but never a dressmaker’s. Two well-dressed ladies are at the counter, obviously making their purchases. Another elegant woman is sitting in a plush chair in a corner studying what appears to be drawings of patterns.
A large woman bustles toward us. “Sir, how might I be of service ?”
Tristan tugs on his waistcoat, as if it annoys him. “I wish to be attended to by the proprietor”.
“I am she. Madame Charlamaine”. She purrs.
“I expected a foreign accent”. He says.
She smiles, her teeth straight and
