ONE O' CLOCK.
The Dressing Room…
This was usually Henderson's domain. The valet was present, hovering in the corner with a brush, but Delaney had insisted on supervising the "Transformation to Sportsman."
Rowan stood in front of the full-length mirror. He had stripped off his blue morning coat. He was in his shirt and waistcoat.
Delaney stood by the wardrobe, holding a coat of rich, tobacco-brown wool.
"This one," Delaney said. "It is rugged but sophisticated. It says 'I can handle a team of horses' but also 'I own half the county'."
"It's brown," Rowan muttered. "I hate brown. It makes me look like a tree trunk."
"It brings out the gold in your eyes," Delaney said automatically. Then she caught herself. She bit her lip. "It is fashionable. Viscount Weston wears brown."
"Weston is a dandy," Rowan scoffed. "He wears yellow pantaloons."
He turned to Henderson. "Henderson, give me the navy driving coat."
