Reid sat beside me, head leaned on his fist and ankle on his knee as I looked through the catalog. “What do you think of this one?” I asked, pointing.

His green gaze twisted to look first at it, then at me. He was not comfortable.

“Don’t like it,” I said and mused. “Honestly, they all look the same to me.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it,” Reid said.

“Oh. Is that all,” I said dismissively and tossed the book onto the table. It had been a while since Madam Weatherly had taken my measurements. I’d removed my breast binder to ensure she had accurate numbers and sent the poor woman to the floor in shock.

“You’ve seen every last one of us naked,” Reid said.

“So?” I stood to look at the mannequin displaying a purple dress. It was clearly made for a royal ball. However, the placard that said who the dress was for had been removed.

“It really doesn’t bother you? At all?” Reid asked, finally dropping his relaxed posture to sit upright.

“No.” I turned to look at him. “Does it bother you?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “A bit,” he said, looking down.

“Are you backing out of being my ally?”

Reid snapped his head up. “No! It’s just… not what I expected.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Then why does it bother you?”

“Because…” His flush was unexpected and adorable. “I didn’t expect the first woman to see… everything to be the Vice-Captain and not my wife.”

“Wait.” I lifted a hand. “You took Roxy off to your tent once or twice. I saw you take her!”

Reid flushed even darker. “She gives really good foot massages! What about you?”

I covered my face and burst out laughing. “She does give good foot massages!”

Sputtering, Reid joined in my laughter. 

Madam Weatherly entered the waiting room and politely waited for our laughter to die down. “Lady Mortuary. You didn’t specify what you required this dress for. However, I assume it is for the ball after the award ceremony.” She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t believe I can get anything done in time.”

I looked at her, then turned to point at the lavender dress. “Whose is that?”

Weatherly's eyes widened. “Marquess Flowers… was meant to wear it,” she said in a small voice.

My face twisted. I didn’t know what expression I was wearing until Reid snorted. “That’s an evil look,” he said.

“I’ll take it,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

“But, My Lady!” Weatherly objected, her eyes wide. “That would be social suicide!”

“Put it on Duke Owen’s tab,” Reid said.

Weatherly stared at Reid, then me, as she realized this was a decision out of her hands. She bowed to Reid, then went to get the dress off the mannequin. “I’ll have to have it taken in some, but if you would like to try it on for a final fitting, we can do that now.”

I nodded and followed her to the dressing room, still chuckling to myself. I’m stealing Auntie-dearest’s dress! Oh, the irony!

I touched the scar on my cheek as I came to stand in front of the mirror.

“I know an excellent makeup artist,” Madam Weatherly said as she hung the dress up. 

I considered that as I got undressed and lifted my arms to let the designer wrap a corset around me. She only tightened it enough to cage my breasts and push them up and to the front. Ducking, I let her pull the dress over my head and help me get my arms into the sleeves. “Sure. I guess this will be my debut.” I snorted.

“I admit I don’t understand any of it,” Weatherly said. “A decorated war hero was a woman this whole time. Why make it known now?”

“Because I don’t want gross old men throwing their daughters at me,” I said and watched as she laced the dress behind me. I ran my hand across the silk bodice. “I’m glad people will get to see this dress. It’s beautiful,” I said, my eye straying to the scar on my shoulder, reminding me of the only other person who knew my real gender. “Even if it is on a pig. I hope that doesn’t bring down your store's reputation.”

“Marquessa Flowers’ patronage was already doing that,” Weatherly admitted with a dark expression. “I worry more for your reputation, wearing her dress after everything.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s perfect. I don’t want a title. I don’t want to be tied to the capital. If I can get kicked out of High Society on my first night, all the better.”

“This… will certainly do it,” the dressmaker said grimly and stepped back. “Have you no care for getting married at all, then?”

“None,” I said with absolute conviction.

“You’re slightly taller than Lady Flowers,” the woman said. “She was to wear heels, but I believe you would be fine with flats.” She stepped out of the dressing room, and I followed, going to reveal myself to Reid. He’d been given cookies and tea while he waited.

Stepping in, I cleared my throat to get his attention.

Looking up, the teacup slipped from his grip, pouring hot tea across his thigh. It wasn’t enough to register past the shock of seeing me in a dress. “You… really are a woman,” he said finally.

I looked down at myself. I wasn’t incredibly endowed, but I supposed it was enough to be a pleasing handful. 

Reid shifted uncomfortably, dabbing at his thigh with a napkin after he picked the teacup off the floor. “What’re you going to do about all the scars?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m intending to make a fool of myself. Nothing will save me. His Grace will have to give up on this stupid power trip and let me go or embarrass himself. He’s far too enmeshed in High Society to do that.”

“I don’t know…” Reid said. “I don’t know that this will be enough.”

“Believe me. I’m wearing the dress of the woman I brought down. How much tackier could I get?”

Reid bowed his head. “Inviting someone inappropriate as your date,” he suggested.

“Oh! Got anyone in mind?” I asked, even as I went through everyone I knew. The men at the barracks were all good people and didn’t deserve this kind of damnation.

“Yeah,” Reid said and groaned. “And this would be just the kind of drama he loves.”

“Who?”

“Emeritus Cecil Lambs,” Reid said. He gave up trying to dry his leg. Movement to my right caught my attention.

I looked to find that the dressmaker had returned with some accessories and pins. She looked even more dismayed. I turned back to Reid. “You really think he’d escort me for the night?”

“If I asked,” Reid grumbled, looking ill. “I wouldn’t suggest him if I didn’t know you could handle him…”

“Oh, I already know his reputation,” I said. Cecil Lambs was an eighth-circle mage, egotistical, and narcissistic. He loved drama and having his name associated with it. This would be right up his alley. He was devilishly handsome, a playboy who left broken hearts in his wake like a spoiled child left half-eaten cookies everywhere. I was not the type to fall for his charms, which would probably infuriate him enough to make a fool of me at the ball. His attention would ward off every other man who might have been foolish enough to try to court me anyway.

“My Lady,” Weatherly bemoaned. “Do you plan on entering the capital ever again?”

“Nope!” I said cheerfully. “Though, Reid, how do you know him well enough that you could ask him to escort me?”

“It’s… a long story,” Reid said, looking embarrassed.