Whoops. Jules winced. Vivian had been acting so…differently for the past couple of days that Jules had forgotten her intolerance for idle chatter. Vivian had not asked about the outfit; Vivian did not want to know about the outfit.

Jules looked at the garment bag lying on the seat next to her. The jumpsuit was stunning on her. In a few days, London high society would get a look at her in it. She’d be at Vivian’s side in scarlet silk with a scandalously low-cut top.

Brace yourself, Vivian Carlisle. I’ll challenge the hell out of you.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

By six thirty p.m., Jules had given up poking at her hair. Vivian had told her it would look better down anyway.

As usual, she was right: it looked better, although it wasn’t distinctive. Jules wished she had the guts just to do what Vivian did, go for one iconic hairstyle and never change it. It would make things so much simpler. The problem was you had to be an actual icon first.

She hissed at herself, fluffed her hair with her fingers, grabbed her clutch, and hurried downstairs. Not a moment too soon. When she hit the bottom step, she heard Vivian’s bedroom door open and close, followed by her footsteps heading down the hardwoods of the hallway.

“Julia?” she called.

“I’m down here,” Jules said.

“Are you ready for dinner?”

Dinner with the Chislehursts. Even more surprising than all the rest of this Christmas was the fact that people named Chislehurst actually existed. “Yes. And Jimmy’s outside with the car.”

Vivian came down the stairs. She wore a basic black sheath, but over it she wore a laser-cut black leather jacket that Jules recognized from the most recent Akris collection. She’d also put on bold red lipstick and towering red stilettos to match.

Damn. Someday Jules hoped to pull off that effortless confidence.

For now, she aimed for presentable in the black slacks she’d worn yesterday, dressed up with a purple crepe blouse and a chunky necklace. She straightened as Vivian gave her the once-over.

After a moment, Vivian nodded briskly and headed for the coat closet. She withdrew a wool swing coat that somehow managed to pull her ensemble together even better. Meanwhile, Jules was just glad her green peacoat didn’t have any stains on it from traveling.

She took in a deep breath and followed Vivian down the front steps. The day had been fair and warmer than yesterday, so at least there wasn’t any ice to navigate in high heels.

“Who’s going to be at this dinner?” she asked as they drove off. “Uh, the Schumanns won’t be there, will they?”

Vivian’s lips quirked in a half smile. “No. Herr Schumann and his heinous hausfrau will not be in attendance tonight.”

Jules longed to laugh but didn’t dare.