Matilda turned from the mirror, her lips curving faintly. “It wasn’t. I have just… adjusted it.”
“Adjusted?” Cordelia repeated, scandalized and thrilled all at once. “My dear, you’ve transformed it. It’s divine!”
Hazel was seated by the window with her usual calm, and smiled over the rim of her teacup. “Divine or not, it was hardlymodest, as you intended. I still seem to recall you saying you how wanted to fade into the background.”
Matilda looked back at her reflection, at the soft shimmer of silver thread tracing the gown’s hem, at the way the pearls caught the light along her neckline. She had spent hours repainting the fabric with a faint sheen of lavender and sewingthe tiny sequins by candlelight. The result was subtle at first glance, yet impossible to ignore once seen.
“It was meant to be simple,” she admitted. “But it… evolved.”
Cordelia clasped her hands. “Evolved into a masterpiece, you mean. Look at you! The Dowager Viscountess of Forth shall set the church ablaze.”
“Do stop,” Matilda murmured, though her cheeks warmed. “It’s only a gown.”
“Only a gown?” Cordelia gasped theatrically. “You sparkle like morning dew. You’ll have everyone staring and one man in particular losing his senses.”
Matilda tried to sound stern. “Cordelia.”
“His Grace of Harrow,” Cordelia continued unabashed. “You must have noticed how he looks at you. Hazel, tell her she’s blind.”
Hazel sighed, setting her cup down. “You are blind, Matilda,” she said with pragmatic ease. “Or pretending to be. Either way, the Duke’s attention is obvious to anyone with eyes.”
“Attention is not affection,” Matilda said softly.
Cordelia arched a brow. “Then he has a very intense way of studying wallpaper.”
That drew a reluctant laugh from her. “You two are impossible.”
“Unhelpfully honest, you mean,” Hazel corrected. “But you do look beautiful.Truly. We all agreed that you should allow yourself to be seen for once.”
Matilda’s smile faltered slightly as she adjusted a strand of hair. “I shall try.”
Cordelia fastened the delicate clasp of her necklace, a string of pearls that rested perfectly against the lavender sheen of the fabric. “There. Now you are perfect.”
The compliment stirred something tender and uncertain inside her. For a fleeting moment, Matilda wished she could tell them everything: the kiss, the confusion, the way Jasper’s voice still echoed in her mind. But she couldn’t. At least, not until she had spoken to him first. She could not trust what the kiss meant until she heard it from him.
That was when a sound from outside made them all turn toward the window. The crunch of wheels on gravel assured them that Evelyn and Robert had to be on their way to church already.
Hazel rose, smoothing her gloves. “Time to go, ladies. The baptism awaits.”
Cordelia caught Matilda’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Brace yourself, my dear. You’ll cause a sensation.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I want to anymore…”
“You will, whether you wish it or not.”
Matilda laughed softly, though her heart had begun to flutter in a most inconvenient way. She glanced once more in the mirror. The woman who gazed back at her looked poised and elegant, while the soft light was glancing off her gown like sunlight through mist. But beneath the calm surface, hope and apprehension twisted together, impossible to tell apart.
“Very well,” she said at last. “Let us go.”
The corridor beyond her chamber hummed with the quiet bustle of servants, while Matilda, Cordelia, and Hazel moved together down the grand staircase.
“Evelyn will be radiant,” Cordelia said, half-skipping the last step. “She was glowing before the child was even in his christening gown.”
Hazel smiled. “And Robert looked ready to duel the vicar over the proper placement of the font.”
Matilda laughed softly. “That sounds like him. He takes fatherhood as seriously as diplomacy.”
“Which is why,” Cordelia said brightly, pausing as they stepped out into the sunlight, “you must take being an aunt just as seriously. I expect at least one dramatic godmotherly toast at the ball tonight.”
