"Tighter, I think." Jacques the dressmaker gestured at my already constricted waistline and ribcage with his pince-nez. The polished glass lenses caught the light and made my head hurt. The girl behind me, a rather beefy child with more freckles than was good for her, winked at me and yanked on the ribbons.
I groaned, swaying from the pressure while Georgina and Kate giggled and applauded.
Traitors, both of them.
Jacques sniffed as though the very air offended him. "Now, the overbodice."
Two more girls hurried forward as I struggled for breath and the willpower not to shove the arrogant man's half-glasses somewhere he'd never retrieve them. The material shimmered gold and palest ivory. Not that I had the wherewithal to approve of it. Drawing in air to keep me upright became my only foc
