She no longer cared that there were those who took a gander as he escorted her toward the seamstress, for her eyes were rooted firmly on his face, a shy smile crossing her lips and a look of genuine adoration was her expression. When they entered the shop, he was shooed away so she could be properly fitted. Soon, she was cocooned in silks and satins, velvets and laces, reds and blues, rich colors that set off the coffee tones in her eyes.

She soon came out with a gown that had been made for another of a similar build, but never paid for, and was soon fitted to her. It was a rich claret color, her waist cinched just so to set off the flare of her hips. Someone had gone through the trouble of pinning her hair up and placing a the matching hat on her head at a jaunty angle. "One wouldn't know it was made for another, wouldn't you think, Mister Vaughn?" asked one of the assistants.

Color washed into her cheeks as her eyes found his, having overheard the compliment.