Owing to the scant amount of sleep she’d gotten the night before, her patience hung on a short leash. With a deep breath, she schooled her features, reminding herself that she was a lady. No colossal jackass, be he a lord or not, was going to rattle her cage. Before she could order whomever it was to go away, the door opened and in trotted a maid that looked for all the world like a dwarf with a great bobbing topknot of brown hair piled on her head.
“Her ladyship sent this gown to see if it suits your complexion. She believes the shade will accentuate your dark hair and fair skin perfectly.” She tipped up onto her toes and held some of the deep cornflower blue fabric next to Elizabeth’s cheek. “And so it does. Her ladyship will be ever so pleased.”
The odd little woman laid the gown on the bed and bustled about the room as if she were in charge.
“You’re Lady Alameda’s abigail, are you not?”
“Aye, that I am. I’ve been her lady’s maid since she was out of leading strings. An’ seeing as you have a gentleman waiting downstairs, I expect you’ll be requiring a bit of help.”
Elizabeth obediently held out her arms as the lady’s maid untied her tapes. “Am I to understand that the countess means to loan this gown to me?”
“Heavens no, m’lady. She wishes you to have it, with her compliments. She had it made for one of her nieces. No need of it now. Happily married, with a newborn babe. A lovely young lady. Saved my life, she did.” The chatty maid went efficiently about her work while relating a preposterous tale wherein Lady Alameda’s niece dove off a pier, into a raging sea, and performed a daring rescue to save the maid from certain drowning. The young lady’s handsome suitor found Lady Alameda’s niece collapsed on the beach and carried her to safety. It had been years since anyone told Elizabeth a fairy story.
The gown slid over her shoulders, soft, luxurious blue satin floating down, draping across her figure. The heart-shaped neckline curved perfectly over her breasts and fell in cunningly simple lines. Very plain, but elegant, it had been trimmed at the hem and neck with darker blue silk. Elizabeth vowed to study the pattern in greater detail when she had more time, for the effect was stunning.
She smiled and murmured, “It’s absolutely brilliant. Lady Alameda is a genius.”
“Oh yes, miss, that she is. No question about it. Now, if you’ll sit down, I’ll be seeing to your hair, shall I?”
When Lady Elizabeth finally set her slippered toe on the white marble staircase and prepared to descend, it was with complete confidence that Lord Horton would be kneeling at her feet before the afternoon ended. Men were such simpleminded creatures. Most men. There were a few exceptions. Her inscrutable father for one. And Lord St. Evert, damn his eyes...
At the sound of his laughter emanating from the sitting room, she cringed. Once more, the lout was causing lines to form in her brow. No more wrinkles, she reminded herself. What she needed was a stiff plaster to hold her forehead smooth until the glorious day when she and Robert might remove themselves from Lord St. Evert’s abode.
More guffaws, louder this time, echoed from the second-floor drawing room. Elizabeth recognized another familiar voice. Oh joy, Robert was there too. The three of them were so effectively entertained they would neglect her entrance entirely. It was so vitally important that Lord Horton receive a stirring impression. She hesitated on the stairs.
Cairn appeared out of nowhere and bowed. “Would you care for me to announce you, my lady?”
Yes. No. It would be doing it up a bit too much. She shook her head and stood in the doorway doubting whether any of them, Lord Horton in particular, would notice her at all. Everything depended on her securing his affections. The voice of uncertainty taunted her, whispering truths she didn’t want to hear. She was a pauper and no real beauty into the bargain, merely a cunning craftsman, a trickster. What was she playing at? Her family’s future depended on her, and what did she have at her command? Precious little. A title and a few artful tricks.
She vacillated between anger and tears as she watched the men laughing together. It was all so abominably difficult. Unfair. Robert failed to grasp the gravity of their situation. How could he stand there hooting like a schoolboy and slapping his friends on the back as if he hadn’t a care in the world when she must do this wretched marriage thing? Her hands began to shake, so she pressed them against her thighs. She would not succumb to nerves. She would not.
St. Evert noticed her first. He abruptly stopped chuckling, straightened, and let go of the fireplace mantel, staring at Elizabeth with the same startled intensity he had the night before. She felt utterly naked under the broad strokes of his gaze. He reddened. And so he should. She failed to understand why his features then hardened, and he frowned at her as if she had caused him some offense. Following such a shameless perusal, she was the one who ought to be offended.
“Ah, Izzie. Speak of the devil...” Robert gestured broadly to her. “I was just telling St. Evert and Lord Horton about that time you put together a pair of wings for each of us.”
She remained in the doorway exchanging hostile glares with Lord St. Evert, refusing to look away until he did. She noted his
