The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory
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‘But Rosthorne will be there!’
‘I know. That is why I want to go.’
With a tiny squeal Lydia sat up. ‘Have you run mad?’ she demanded. ‘Do you know the risk you will be running to attend a masquerade?’
Felicity nodded. ‘I have considered that. But I want to see him again, Lydia.’ She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. ‘It is the perfect opportunity for me to talk to him.’
‘But as soon as you speak to him he will recognise you.’
Felicity shook her head. ‘He will not be expecting to see me there.’ She thought back to their time together in the shrubbery. ‘I doubt he even remembers my voice.’
‘This is madness,’ Lydia said again. ‘Think of the danger, Fee. These events can be very…wild.’
‘It is no matter,’ said Felicity calmly. ‘All I want is to dance with Nathan. We have never danced together, you see. And I would so like to know how it feels. Just once.’
Lydia looked at her, tears starting in her blue eyes. ‘Oh, my dear—’
Felicity quickly put up her hands. ‘No, please, Lydia, do not pity me or I shall start to cry, too. Instead I would like to ask you to help me in another way.’ She fixed her eyes upon her friend. ‘I will need some dancing lessons. Apart from a few country dances at Souden I have not danced, not properly danced, since we were at the Academy together…’
‘And you were always such a graceful dancer. I shall ask my old dancing teacher, Signor Bellini, to come here and I shall play for you,’ declared Lydia. ‘Oh, Fee, this is so exciting. And when Rosthorne discovers who you are…’
‘You go too fast, Lydia!’ Felicity frowned. ‘I am not at all sure I am ready to reveal myself to him.’
Lady Souden looked as if she would say more, but after a brief hesitation she merely smiled, and nodded. ‘Very well, my love. Now, let us think of a disguise for you.’
‘I thought you might have a domino that I may borrow. And a mask.’
Lydia sat back and regarded her friend. After a few moments a mischievous little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘I think I can do much better than that for you, my love.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I will tell you nothing more now, except that you must leave everything to me!’
Lady Souden refused to say any more.
Felicity was obliged to curb her curiosity until the very day of Lady Preston’s masquerade, when she accompanied Lydia on another of her shopping sprees. This included the purchase of a pair of scarlet stockings, which Lydia presented to her friend.
‘What on earth would I want with these?’ asked Felicity, laughing.
‘They will add the finishing touch to your costume this evening.’
‘What are you planning for me, Lydia? Do tell!’
But Lady Souden merely looked mysterious and bade her to wait until the evening.
‘How fortunate that dear James could not dine with us tonight,’ remarked Lydia as she took Felicity upstairs to her apartment. ‘I can help you to dress without fear that he will want to know what we are doing.’
‘I am becoming mighty anxious about this myself,’ said Felicity as she followed her hostess into the white-and-rose dressing room. ‘The thought of those scarlet stockings is quite alarming.’
Lydia giggled. ‘Nonsense, they are just right!’ She smiled at her maid, who was standing beside an open trunk. ‘Well, Janet, have you put everything ready, as I instructed?’
‘Aye, m’lady.’ She reached into the trunk and with a rustle of tissue paper she pulled forth a gown. Felicity stared.
‘Lydia,’ she breathed, ‘I couldn’t…can you not find me a plain domino? That is all I require…’
‘Nonsense, you will look wonderful in this. We are very much of a height, so it will fit you very well. I would wear it myself but…’ Lydia smiled and placed her hands on her waist ‘…I would not look my best in it this year.’
Felicity looked again at the gown the maid was holding up for her inspection. It was a heavy brocade gown with full skirts and a narrow, boned bodice, but it was not the old style that made Felicity’s eyes widen. It was the colour. The gown was a vividly patterned scarlet-and-black, trimmed with black lace.
‘Begging your pardon, my lady, but I am not sure this is a suitable gown for Miss Brown,’ offered Janet, eyeing the gown doubtfully.
‘Pho, it is for a wager,’ Lydia responded in an airy tone. ‘Come now, we must help Miss Brown to dress. Quickly, Janet, for there is much to do.’
Felicity submitted meekly to their ministrations. Soon her light, flowing muslin gown had been replaced by pads and hoops and petticoats. She gasped as Janet tugged on the laces of her bodice, fitting it tightly into the curve of her waist. When Lydia sent the maid off to pack away her discarded clothes, Felicity gave a little whimper.
‘I can scarce breathe.’ She regarded herself in the mirror. The tight bodice emphasised her tiny waist and the creamy swell of her breasts above the low neckline. As she raised one hand to her throat the black lace ruffles fell back softly from her white arm. ‘Oh dear, Janet is right: I should not be wearing this.’
‘You want to dance with Rosthorne, do you not?’ said Lydia, eminently practical. ‘Trust me, he will not be able to resist you in this gown.’ She sighed, a faraway look creeping into her eyes. ‘The modiste named this gown “Temptation”. I remember when I wore it: James could not take his eyes off me.’ Lydia gave another sigh, but as her handmaid came back into the room she recollected herself and said in a very businesslike tone, ‘Now for the headdress. Sit down here, my love, while Janet helps me.’
A heavy black wig was fitted over Felicity’s soft gold-brown hair and she watched in some consternation as Janet pulled up a side table and began to set out a frightening array of powders and paints.
‘Is this really necessary?’ protested Felicity. ‘I am sure—’
‘Hush,’ Lydia told her. ‘You must look the part.’
‘Why, ’tis no more than a little powder, miss,’ said Janet. ‘Thirty years ago no lady would ever leave her room without painting her face as white as snow.’
‘And what is that you are putting on my eyes?’
‘Nothing more than a little burnt cork, miss.’
And so it went on. Felicity stared ahead of her as Lydia and her maid worked their transformation. The daylight faded and was replaced by the soft glow of candles before the maid began to pack away the little pots and brushes.
‘Can I look in the mirror now?’
‘Just a few more touches,’