The Lover's Children novel Chapter 13

JAMES

Laughter and chatter spills through the door. I give a brief tap and walk straight in…

“Charlotte, I…”

… then realise my mistake, halt in mid-step, spinning to leave. “Sorry, bad timing.”

Kirstie is, not exactly undressed, but not exactly dressed either. The layers of corsetry and petticoats she’s wearing definitely qualify as undergarments. On the other hand, she’s showing less skin than the Regency heroine of some Austen Romance. I’ve certainly walked in on a woman in her underwear. But I can’t claim to have seen anything that wouldn’t be perfectly proper were she seated at her desk in the main foyer of the Haswell offices.

“Not at all, James,” purrs Mitch. “It’s very good timing. Take a seat. This is Kirstie’s final dress fitting. You can tell us what you think. We could use a male opinion.”

“Um…” I hover. “That alright by you, Kirstie? You’re er…” I wave a hand in the general direction of layer upon layer of… Of what? Skirts, petticoats, corsetry… Something to the rear, padding her backside…

The tall, elegant girl gives me a nervous smile. “That’s fine, James. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so overdressed.”

Beth Tuts. “It looks beautiful on you, Kirstie. It suits you very well, and the outfit will be a lot warmer than the usual meringue outfit. Let’s just get it on you, then we can all see the full effect.”

The dress is a poem in cream lace and satin. Kirstie is tall and statuesque, not particularly full-figured, but Mitch has… constructed… the dress to make the most of all its wearer’s best features: Kirstie’s height, her long legs, her elegant stance.

The bodice, corsetted and beautifully fitted, emphasises her waist and makes more of her modest bosom. But her slender arms and the curve of her lovely swan neck are emphasised. The dress gathers in tiers over the layers underneath and Kirstie’s long, dark hair falls in soft waves under a veil which sweeps over the whole as far as her waist.

And as I look more closely, here and there, in the subtlest of effects, butterflies flit through lace and satin, the palest of pale greens against the cream background. I shift left, then right, seeing one, then another as the light catches them. The wings seem to flutter and move. I know it’s optical trickery. I’ve seen Mitch do this before with paint and plaster, but I didn’t think it could be done with…

With…?

How the hell does she do that?

Embroidery?

Hand-worked?

It must have taken her days…

Weeks?

All that time, while she was waiting for Klempner to be found…

“Did you make all this, Mitch?”

“Ah-ha.” She stands back, a finger pressed to her lips as she considers the product of her labours. “It’s the first time I’ve tackled anything so complex as this. It took forever to make the corset with the boning.”

Charlotte says, “Well it’s having the intended effect. I should think boning will be right at the front of Ryan’s mind when he sees Kirstie in it.”

I throw her a look and Charlotte drops her head and subsides. But there’s no missing the grin plastered over her supposedly submissive expression.

Kirstie flushes.

Mitch straightens up, folds arms. “So, what do you think, James?”

Kirstie winds her fingers together in that way she has. “You think Ryan will like it? It’s so…. elaborate. I’ve never worn anything like this before.”

Ye gods…

“Kirstie, that’s the point. It’s your wedding day. And I wouldn’t worry about Ryan. You look… astonishing… He won’t know what’s hit him.” I wind a finger in the air. “Turn around. Let me see you.”

Her lips twitch, but obligingly, she turns.

“No train?”

“No,” says Mitch. “It didn’t seem sensible, given the time of the year. A second’s inattention and it would be plastered in mud.”

Charlotte mutters to Kirstie. “Y’know, most wedding dresses only get worn once, but it wouldn’t take much to turn yours into great Fet Wear for the clubs afterwards.”

I quell her with another look, but she has a point. The corset would give any man itchy fingers. The laces are long and silky and...

I rub at an ear. “I have to agree. That is one helluva dress. Kirstie, you look devastating. Congratulations, Mitch. You’ve created a masterpiece.”

*****

Once we’re on our own, Charlotte is rolling eyes…

Wondering if I’m going to blister her ass?

“I've not seen you in a corset recently,” I say. “How about it?”

Her face falls. “The last one was a bit of a disaster, Juliana reeling me in like that with the corset as bait. I… I couldn’t stand having it around. I threw it away.”

I feel a complete heel. And my own performance in that shambles was hardly star-quality. “Um, yes. I understand…” I brush lips over her forehead… “… But that was my fault, not yours. And your father is safe now.”

“Hmmm, yes.” All the wind has gone from her sails.

“Charlotte, it wasn’t your fault. And…” I pat her ass… “You suit a corset just as well as Kirstie.”

Her face pops up, mischief dancing the tango over her lips. “I never realised. You fancy Kirstie, don't you?”

My face heats. “Charlotte, you know how Michael and I first met Kirstie. Long before I knew you.”

“Yes, I do know. But I'd not realised you still fancy her.”

Trying to rescue the tatters of my Stern Dom image, “It's not appropriate. I'm married. I'm her boss. And she belongs to another man.”

Charlotte dimples. “You can look at any menu you want so long as you eat at home.”

“I'm pleased you see it that way. Now, about that corset...”

*****

KLEMPNER