Which sibling is it?’ Penwick looked to Jasper for explanation.
‘The older brother, Randolph.’ Jasper made no attempt to stifle his amusement.
‘Another Randolph?’
‘It seems everyone is named Randolph of late. Quite fashionable moniker. No matter Oliver’s brother dresses as a dimber damber, my wardrobe is superior.’ Beaufort adjusted the knot of his gingerline cravat and straightened his shoulders. ‘What you need, Penwick, is a pre-marriage celebration, an homage to bachelorhood… in other words, a fond farewell to freedom.’
‘Now there’s a jolly idea.’ Jasper’s expression displayed unmitigated enjoyment at the opportunity to goad. ‘Every fellow should have one last rout before volunteering for the parson’s mousetrap.’
‘And did you?’ Penwick’s quick repartee caught his friend unexpected. ‘Before vowing your eternal affection to Miss Shaw, did you sample the sweet offerings at one of Beaufort’s frequent diversions?’
‘Mrs. St David and I constitute a rare union. I speak in generalities, nothing more.’ Jasper’s assertive declaration was spoiled by his broad grin.
‘But I speak in specifics.’ Beaufort warmed to the subject, anxiously rattling off a list of suggestions for debauched pleasure. ‘Every man needs a singular experience to celebrate the end of bachelorhood before becoming a tenant for life. It all comes to a fiddlestick’s end, after all.’
‘How we’ve digressed.’ Penwick smirked as he dismissed the conversation. He’d grown accustomed to Beaufort’s uniquely scattered conversation since their fast friendship a year ago.
‘It’s an art form.’ Jasper arched a brow and canted his head towards Randolph. ‘He can send a discussion downhill like a runaway cart with three wheels.’
‘Beaufort?’ Penwick chuckled the question.
‘Beaufort.’ Jasper nodded in the affirmative.
The next morning, Livie sat in the library at Kirby Park, a fresh edition of Ackermann’s Repository nestled in her lap as if she guarded precious treasure. The illustrated periodical featured a fashion plate on the cover, the lady dressed in an extraordinary creation, sewn from sumptuous layers of satin, blue as a robin’s egg, to rival the most beautiful ball gowns Livie had ever seen. The daring neckline revealed a glimpse of cleavage, the model’s bosom displayed with flirtatious elegance, while the sleeves were no more than sheer wisps of fabric trimmed with the same detailed lace found in the bodice. The skirt flowed elegantly from an empire fall adorned by delicate floral embellishments with crystals and seed pearls. She followed the gown to the hem where the toe of a gorgeous pearl-white slipper caught her eye as if a flag waving her into surrender by temptation. This dress surpassed anything she’d worn or coveted on the pages of the Repository. With all her fashion sense, she couldn’t have created a better design of perfection.
What an entrance she’d make descending Kirby Park’s grand curved staircase in the centre hall on the evening of her debut. She’d pause halfway to gaze out at the guests and allow them a collective breath. How she’d dreamed of the moment when she was bedridden and bored, unsure she’d ever walk again. Those daydreams, along with Randolph’s letters, had been the best part of her confinement.
She brushed the pad of her finger over the pearl shoes displayed on the cover and in a flash remembered the glistening shoe clips she’d thrust into her skirt pocket before Whimsy rushed through her bedchamber door yesterday afternoon. She’d changed clothes several times since then. With any hope Dinah hadn’t discovered the clips because, at present, Livie had no answers to difficult questions. She hadn’t returned the walking boots Mr Horne handed her in error, nor had she decided precisely what to do with the exquisite accessories. How wrong to keep them and equally devastating to relinquish their beauty, most especially now that she’d found the ideal gown for her celebration. Perhaps if she wore the shoe clips once, at a single function, she could return them without despairing the loss, a reaction she abhorred to confront too closely.
She returned her gaze to the cover design. What would it feel like to wear such a breathtaking gown? Every eye would be drawn to her, every guest would take notice as she danced in the arms of a handsome stranger. Her eyes fell closed and a vivid image of Lord W clarified as if he’d waited patiently all the while for her to get on with her romantic imagining.
In truth, she thought of Lord W and their enchanted dance frequently, though she knew the entertaining fantasy was all for naught. She’d never see the gentleman again and didn’t know his name. Nor could she pursue the subject. Her not-so-subtle enquiries into Randolph’s identity last year had yielded nothing but odd looks and questions she wouldn’t, often couldn’t, answer. Wilhelmina behaved as persistently as a bloodhound with the scent of fresh prey when she protected her younger sister, and everything Livie did seemed to fall under the category of sibling surveillance. And she understood why. Despite numerous conversations to the contrary, Wilhelmina still harboured misplaced guilt over the carriage accident that had damaged Livie’s legs. Dashwood’s protective supervision was another subject entirely. While she appreciated his role as protector, master of the house and brother-in-law, his well-meant interference at times seemed overbearing. Must she be the object of everyone’s concern?
She loved her sister and brother-in-law thoroughly. Their generous welcoming of her into a new, wonderful life surpassed most all of Livie’s dreams, yet her greatest hope held fast. To be independent and adored as well as Dash loved Wilhelmina, perhaps beyond the idyllic examples before her – Livie dreamed of this daily.
She blinked behind her spectacles and gave her head a little shake.
‘Good heavens, that must be the most captivating design. You’ve stared at that illustration for no less than ten minutes with a faraway expression on your face.’
‘Aunt Kate,’ Livie answered with pleasure, her words loud and clear to compensate for her aunt’s hearing loss. ‘I was lost in a daydream, but you are correct. This gown is exquisite.’
‘Let me see.’ Aunt Kate accepted the magazine and settled on the cushion beside Livie. ‘Oh my, you are correct. I’ve never seen such beautiful detail.’
Livie nodded. ‘I have the perfect slippers to match.’
‘My dear, you have the perfect slippers to accompany every dress.’ Aunt Kate barely managed the words as she laughed at her reply.
The two were lost in a fit of giggles when Wilhelmina entered, a smile on her face as soon as she spied them huddled over the magazine and cheerfully recovering their composure.
‘Wonderful. I’ve found you together.’ Wilhelmina raised her right hand where she clasped a folded note. ‘Whatever has captured your attention and tickled your fancy will soon be forgotten when I share the news in this message.’ She took a seat across from them before she opened the white paper and skimmed the words. Then she eyed them with a glint of mischief in her eye. Silence stretched taut.
‘What is it, Whimsy?’ The words burst out before Livie could stop them. ‘It’s cruel to make us wait when you promise your announcement will be delightful.’
Her sister smirked in a fashion only older siblings accomplished and then cleared her throat to read aloud the invitation in her hands. When she finished all three ladies chattered at once.
‘A masquerade. How exciting.’
‘It’s barely the start of the season.
