Adelaide wasn’t foolish enough to marry beneath her station, and she doubted she had the fortitude to endure such a state anyway. Phillip would not be enough for a viscount’s daughter for some years, being still in remainder for his grandfather’s title, and the family name was only fair. New money, his father called it, though it was an antiquated notion. And Phillip, bless him, lacked ambition to become more than he was at present if it required too much of him.

Being an elder son, he could not be expected to find an occupation, and Adelaide did not know how else a man gained a great fortune. She would never have been able to marry Phillip unless her father were content to wait beyond the grave for the match. It did not stop her wishing that fair Phillip would be her groom rather than the dark and nettlesome Basset, but it was at least a glance at reality.

Perhaps he was not so perfect, then.

But he was a good deal closer to it than Basset, and no one could argue there.

“I thinkyou will be well pleased with the lavender taffeta, Miss Dyer,” Madame Hubert assured her in what was undoubtedly supposed to be a bright change of topic. “Particularly with the deeper purple accents at the waist, sleeves, and hem. And your neckline will be so elegant. What gems will you wear?”

“Diamonds,” Adelaide replied absently, not truly caring if she were to be dressed in black crepe and draped in matching lace. “His lordship has family heirlooms.”

“Ah, it will complement your coloring so well,” Madame said with a sigh, nodding in delight. “And where will the wedding be?”

“St. George’s Hanover Square,” her mother answered, her tone almost haughty with her pride.

Madame Hubert paused, looking up at Adelaide with some speculation. “Indeed? Such a lovely place. Exquisite, really. And I think, perhaps, I may need a word with Miss Dyer privately to discuss a particular detail.” She gave Adelaide’s mother a sympathetic look. “I trust your ladyship will not object. It is a tradition for all of my brides. Very special.”

Adelaide bit the inside of her cheek a little as her mother looked bewildered, her face wreathed in consternation. She could not very well refuse to go in the shop of the best modiste in London, but to be intentionally excluded from her daughter’s fitting and any particular detail of the wedding would grate her nerves like nothing else would.

But to have a moment away from her…

That would be a wedding present in itself.

“I suppose,” Adelaide’s mother murmured, still looking rather put out for an appointment she was so looking forward to. Her brow puckered, her lips pinched, and she moved to the front of the shop to look at fabrics.