Chapter 72 - Seventy Two
The sun was a gentle, pleasant warmth in the sky, a welcome change from the tumultuous weather of the past day.
The grand Carson carriage, with its polished black lacquer and silver crest, pulled to a smooth stop in front of an imposing, elegant building on the most fashionable street in the capital.
A footman in crisp uniform immediately opened the door. Amber descended first, a picture of effortless grace. She was dressed in a dress of pale lavender, her posture perfect, her movements smooth.
The footman then helped Delia down. She looked up at the gilded letters above the large, clean windows: "Lady Tremaine’s Modiste." It was the most exclusive dressmaker in the entire kingdom.
Amber opened a delicate, hand-painted fan and began to flutter it slowly, a gesture of refined impatience. She mumbled angrily, though her voice was still as soft as silk. "I simply do not understand it. How could Lady Tremaine’s messenger not send the appointment letter directly to Eric’s residence? It makes no sense. If I hadn’t arrived earlier this morning to check on the progress myself, we would have been late. So inefficient."
Delia, standing beside her, heard her frustrated muttering and smiled gently. "It’s fine, Amber. We are here now."
Amber sighed, the gentle breeze from her fan stirring the air. Her frustration seemed to melt away as she looked at Delia. "You’re right," she said, her own smile returning. "I won’t let something as trivial as a lost letter ruin our day." She neatly folded her fan and then began to put on a pair of soft silk gloves, her movements precise and elegant.
Just as she was smoothing the last finger, the large, polished door of the modiste shop burst open.
"Lady Amber! Oh, Lady Amber, you came!"