She leaned against the pitted table used to cut fabric. A weight pushed off her chest and floated free. Turning, she sobbed into her hands, trying to stifle the sound before she started wailing away at Madame Dupree’s.
“Beatrice.” Andromeda gently turned her. “Stop weeping. I insist. You are forgiven, and we need never mention this again. Are we agreed?”
“Must you be so bloody wonderful? I shall try not to hate you further.”
Andromeda smiled. “I am rather spectacular. Granby often says so. Now.” Her gaze focused on Beatrice’s ruined ear. “We’ll have to find a way to work around that. A hairstyle with curls that cascade to the right and a subtle rewiring of—”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Beatrice’s hand raised to cover her ruined ear. “Stop staring at it.”
“Earrings, Beatrice. You want to wear them again, yes?”
“Well yes, but—” She took off the shawl around her shoulders and laid it on the table. “There is also this to contend with.”
Andromeda cocked her head, taking in Beatrice’s neck. “I’d heard the rumors, of course. Disfigured. So hideous you couldn’t be looked at.” A snort left her. “Goodness. It isn’t nearly as bad as all that. Blythe was right. The scars, at least along your cheek and neck, aren’t too deep and will fade with time.” Andromeda paced around her. “Blythe told Granby and me, of course. Over a dinner during which he became incredibly foxed. He spouted off terrible poetry about your beauty. I had to have a footman escort him to a guestroom.”
“He isn’t any good at writing poetry, only reciting another’s words.” Another ache in her chest. “Blythe doesn’t know I’m in London.”
Andromeda regarded her shrewdly. “You needed to prove you could do this without his help. I understand. And Blythe did not need to be present for our earlier discussion. That will remain between us, Beatrice.” She leaned closer to Beatrice’s ear. “I can’t hide all of it, but I can hide the worst.”
“It becomes more terrible closer to my shoulder and bosom.”
“No matter. I can arrange the neckline just so.” Andromeda scratched furiously with a piece of charcoal across the sketchbook she held. “To sweep up your right shoulder while leaving the left exposed.” She smiled. “I saw a gown similar in design while Granby and I were abroad. Very daring.” She circled Beatrice again. “I need to take your measurements.”
“I told you the scars become worse.” Beatrice lifted her arms obediently as Andromeda started to unbutton her gown. “Don’t go screaming or say I didn’t warn you.”
“I shan’t. Do Lord and Lady Foxwood know you are in London? Does Lady Blythe know of your involvement with her son?”
Beatrice shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to my parents in some time.”
Andromeda gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “I see.”
“And I don’t think he would have mentioned me to Lady Blythe.”
“Good. I feel certain Lady Blythe could do with a surprise or two. Repayment for her kindness to my sister, Theodosia. Oh, and luring Blythe to London under the pretense she’d fallen ill. She’s in perfect health for a tyrant.”
Blythe’s mother wasn’t ill after all. “He must be furious.”
“Oh, he is. I’ll have to work much of tomorrow to get this done in time.” Andromeda measured Beatrice from waist to ankle, pausing only to make a note.
“Time for what, exactly?”
“The party Lady Blythe is hosting, which was planned well before her sudden illness. Thankfully, she has left her deathbed just in time. There will be dancing, of course. Terrible refreshments. Blythe has promised not to depart London until after.” She took a hold of Beatrice’s shoulders. “He’s trying to get back to you.”
The thought warmed her. “I wasn’t sure I could attempt London. He wasn’t either. It isn’t as if anyone will welcome me back, pitted as I am like a month-old orange. I include Lord and Lady Foxwood in that number. But I will go. Hold my head up. Brave the esteemed Lady Blythe.” A tremble started down her spine, but Beatrice forced herself to straighten once more.
“That’s the spirit. Granby and I will be there. Blythe will find you.”
I will look for you, Bea. Always.
“I have no doubt,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster. “And I will have a friend with me. Mrs. Farthing. Do you have something possibly half-done that she might wear to this party of Lady Blythe’s?”
“I do. Bring her over tomorrow. Through the back.” Andromeda helped Beatrice dress once more. “And bring a pair of earrings you wish to wear. I have an idea.”
“Andromeda.” Beatrice took her hand. “Thank you.”
She motioned for Beatrice to follow her back through the stacks of fabrics. “Don’t thank me. I’m doing this for Blythe. I don’t even like you.” She winked before stopping. “How do you feel about blue?”
24
