Cassandra nodded and one apprentice helped her remove her pelisse while the other carefully held the gown open.
Within a few minutes, Cassandra emerged from behind the dressing screen and Mrs. Fletcher’s eyes lit up.
"Oh..." She gasped in awe, sounding pleased.
She circled Cassandra slowly, studying every seam with the critical eye of a master craftswoman. She smoothed one shoulder, adjusted the fall of a sleeve by scarcely half an inch, then stepped back.
One apprentice clasped her hands together. "It suits you beautifully, my lady."
"I agree," the other added with an eager nod. "It’s the finest gown we’ve ever made."
Mrs. Fletcher chuckled. "Now, now. Don’t flatter me before I’ve inspected the hem."
She crouched briefly, examining the length before rising once more.
Finally, she looked at Cassandra with a mixture of hope and nervous anticipation.
"Well?"
Cassandra studied herself in the mirror for a long moment before turning back to the modiste.
The gown was made of rich burgundy velvet with black panels and delicate embroidered details along the skirt. It had an elegant empire waist with short puff sleeves that were quite fashionable.
The dress was commissioned before she became embroiled in scandal and now she couldn’t help but think how its bold and striking color might draw more attention to her during the ball.
"I like it very much. It is the finest dress I have ever seen." She said truthfully. "The fit is impeccable and your work is remarkable."
Mrs. Fletcher’s hands were truly gifted.
For a heartbeat, the woman simply stared. Then the tension visibly left her shoulders.
"Why, thank you." The woman said, preening at the compliment. "I’ll have it wrapped immediately if you are satisfied with it."
One of the apprentices helped her carefully remove the dress before walking away with Mrs Fletcher on her heels to prepare it for its journey back to the palace.
While they worked, the other apprentice remained behind with Cassandra.
"My lady..." She began a while later when the silence had stretched a bit too long.
"Yes?"
The young woman hesitated, evidently debating whether she ought to speak at all.
"I... I simply wished to thank you."
Cassandra regarded her curiously before asking. "For what?"
"For having faith in us. Most ladies of your station would never think to come here. They prefer the larger, more well-known dress shops." She glanced around the modest fitting room, cheeks reddening. "My mistress poured her heart into making that dress. She does the same with every piece she works on to make sure each customer walks out satisfied."
Mrs. Fletcher returned just in time to overhear the last remark.
"Oh, don’t mind her," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "She talks far too much."
"But I’m right," the apprentice protested.
"You are also supposed to be helping Grace wrap Lady Cassandra’s dress." Mrs Fletcher countered. The response was enough to make the other woman turn and scurry away.
It didn’t take long for one of them to return carrying a neatly wrapped parcel tied with an ivory ribbon.
"Everything is ready." She presented it with both hands. "I do hope you’ll wear it in good health, my lady."
"I have no doubt that I shall." Cassandra said as she accepted the parcel. "As always, your workmanship speaks for itself."
The bell above the shop door chimed once more as Cassandra stepped back onto the bustling street.
She had barely taken a step toward her waiting carriage when she saw him again—the strange man she had glimpsed through the shop window. His unremarkable attire allowed him to disappear into the sea of passersby.
She should have overlooked him as easily as everyone else, yet the unwavering stare fixed upon her drew her attention at once.
Cassandra remained rooted to the spot, an odd sense of dread churning low in her belly.
After several seconds, the footman approached her, a faint crease forming between his brows as he took the parcel from her.
She narrowed her eyes and with a barely noticeable flick of her wrist, she had the footman’s attention.
Lowering her voice, she said, "Do you see the man standing across the street? The one in the brown coat and matching hat. Don’t look at him directly. Only a glance. I do not wish him to know I’ve noticed him again."
Without a word, the footman obeyed. As though merely surveying the busy street, his gaze drifted across the road before returning to her a heartbeat later.
"I see him, my lady," he said quietly.
Cassandra’s stomach twisted.
So she had not imagined it.
How long had the man been there, monitoring her? Dear God, had he followed her there?
This was no time to panic and fret, she told herself sternly. She had to get out of there as fast as she could.
Cassandra gave the footman a barely perceptible nod before forcing herself into motion.
Together, they crossed the pavement to the waiting carriage.
The footman reached the carriage first and opened the door for her as he usually would, swinging it shut after she climbed inside.
The instant the carriage door shut behind her, her composure crumpled.
Slipping her fingers beneath the brim of her bonnet, she carefully eased a long steel hairpin from her coiffure.
She concealed it within her palm, the sharpened tip resting against her wrist. It was hardly an ideal weapon, but it was better than having nothing at all.
Before her execution, she would have dismissed such precautions as excessive. She had encountered suspicious men before and had always managed to walk away unharmed.
But dying once had a way of changing a person’s instincts. Since returning to this life, she found herself wary of every odd glance and every unexplained occurrence.
Outside, the footman spoke quietly with the driver before the latter climbed on and gathered the reins.
A light tap came from the window beside her.
"My lady?" Someone called.
It was so sudden and unexpected, that Cassandra’s heart leapt into her throat.
She nearly snapped her neck with how quickly she turned, her grip tightening instinctively around the hidden hairpin.
Instead of the stranger, she found one of Mrs. Fletcher’s apprentices smiling up at her, a small neatly wrapped parcel held in both hands.
Relief loosened the knot in Cassandra’s chest.
"My mistress asked me to give you this before you departed, My lady," the girl said, offering the parcel. "She said it is a small token of her gratitude for your patronage."
Cassandra hid the hairpin discreetly before accepting the box with a grateful smile.
"My thanks. It is most thoughtful of her."
The apprentice curtsied before stepping away. Moments later, the driver flicked the reins, and the carriage rolled forward, carrying Cassandra away from there, though the uneasy feeling that someone had been watching her never truly faded.
The journey back to the palace was thankfully uneventful.
Rows of elegant houses gradually replaced the busy storefronts of the commercial district before giving way to the familiar avenues leading toward the royal grounds.
By the time the carriage passed through the palace gates, it was past noon.
The carriage came to a halt within the palace courtyard and Cassandra stepped down.
As she made her way to her room, a servant approached and bowed respectfully. She was one of the maids assigned to wait upon her throughout her stay at the palace.
"Welcome back, my lady." The maid greeted politely before presenting the cream-colored envelope she held, offering it to Cassandra. "This arrived while you were away."
Cassandra accepted it without much thought.
The quality of the paper suggested it had come from one of the noble households.
Her name was written across the front in elegant script.
"I’ll read it in my chambers."
"As you wish, my lady."
Accompanied by another maid carrying her newly acquired dress, Cassandra made her way through the palace halls.
Only after she reached the privacy of her room did she set the parcel upon a nearby table and finally unfold the letter.
Her eyes calmly perused the pretentious words written on the paper.
Dear Cassandra,
It is with sincere regret that unforeseen circumstances have compelled us to reduce the number of guests attending our forthcoming ball. As a consequence, we find ourselves obliged to withdraw several invitations, yours unfortunately among them.
We trust that you will understand the necessity of this decision and hope that another occasion may soon present itself under more favorable circumstances.
Lady Charlotte Abernethy.
Cassandra crinkled the letter in her fist.
She understood exactly what this was. Charlotte might have softened the blow with polite words but it did nothing to change the truth.
She was rescinding the invitation, no doubt because of the scandal. It was not the first time this has happened but this was a ball she had been looking forward to attending.
Whoever had started the rumors had wanted to isolate her and make her a social pariah.
The person wasn’t merely attempting to stain her reputation but was also systematically dismantling her place within society.
And Cassandra had had quite enough of it.
She allowed the crushed letter to fall carelessly to the floor.
She suspected John’s involvement. After three years of being married to the man, she knew this was exactly the sort of thing he was capable of.
Petty, calculated, and cruel, he had never needed to dirty his own hands when there were always others willing to do it for him.
After the way she had publicly rejected him, he would want to destroy her simply because he believed he could. And he would do it all without lifting a finger himself, letting others carry out his dirty work while he remained comfortably out of sight.
At first, she had been willing to sit back and wait for the rumors to die down on its own. But it no longer seemed as though that was going to happen, especially if John truly had a hand in spreading them.
Fine then, Cassandra thought.
She was no longer his to torment. If he wanted a battle, she would give him a worthy opponent. If he wanted to see her ruined, then she would be sure to return the favor.