“It’s just what I would have selected myself.” I gently ran my fingers over the neckline, touching the delicate lace. Although the dress was a few Seasons old, it would always be one of my favorites, as Mama had selected it for my coming-out.
Nora helped me change, and then I sat at the vanity table so she could style my hair.
I grimaced at my reflection. My freckled skin was sallow, my curls limp, and my indecisive hazel eyes—which were neither brown nor green, but an ever-changing combination of the two—looked tired. I lifted my gaze to Nora. “Help.”
“Not to worry.” Nora patted my shoulder, then picked up my hairbrush. “I know just the thing.”
“You always do.”
Nora worked for the better part of an hour, styling my hair into an intricate coiffure. “There,” she said, passing me a hand mirror so I could see the back.
“You’re a miracle worker, Nora. Thank you.”
“You are kind to say so, miss, but your natural curls do all the work. I only arrange them.” Nora adjusted a pin in my hair. “But I think Mr. Jennings will be pleased.”
“We shall see. That isifhe ever makes an appearance.” I sighed.
Nora’s brow furrowed. “We are speaking of Mr.OliverJennings, are we not?”
“Yes.”
Nora smiled. “Then you’ll be pleased to know he came home earlier this afternoon, just after we arrived. I thought you knew.”
“No.” Why had he not come to me when he’d gotten home? Did he think I was too fatigued from the long journey? Or perhaps Damon had told him about the incident with his boots and he thought me ill.
“Well, you should not keep him waiting. I’m sure he’s eager to see you.”
***
Standing at the entrance to the drawing room, my eyes immediately found Ollie. He stood by the hearth, his handsome face lit by the glow of the fire. Like Damon, Ollie had grown into a man. He’d been gifted with golden curls that once framed his soft face, but his hair was shorter now and styled elegantly, revealing his profile. Straight nose, square jaw, full lips. He was devastatingly handsome.
“If you don’t close your mouth, you will catch flies like a frog.”
I snapped it shut and turned to face Damon. “It is rude to sneak up on a person, sir.”
“Sir.” He smiled. “An improvement frommy lord, I think.”
“Do not flatter yourself.”
“Never,” he said, stepping around me. “And I didn’t sneak.” He said this only loud enough for me to hear. “I was only walking down the corridor to enter the drawing room. I think it wasyoudoing the sneaking. Or should I sayadmiring?”
I narrowed my eyes at him and stepped fully into the drawing room.
Ollie looked up, and when our eyes met, he smiled. “Hannah.” He set his drinking glass on the mantel shelf and crossed the room to meet me.
I started to curtsy—expecting him to behave as formally as Damon had earlier—but Ollie stopped me.
“Must we be so formal?” he asked.
Relief washed over me. He may have grown, but he hadn’t changed. “No,” I said, and I peeked over my shoulder to be sure no one would overhear my next words. Damon moved toward the sofa with a thick green book, well out of earshot, but our parents stood nearer to us in the center of the room, so I lowered my voice. “You were not here to greet me when I arrived.”
“Punctuality is not one of my virtues.” He hung his head, making a show of his penitence. “Are you very vexed with me?”
“Tell me where you were, and all is forgiven.”
“Tellyou, you say.” Ollie clucked his tongue. “Now where is the fun in that? Why don’t you guess where I was, and I will tell you if you are correct.”
“A guessing game?” I glanced at Papa.
