“I wish you girls would come with us,” Mrs. Danby remarked next Monday evening as her maid curled her hair. Her daughters were peering into her room, trying to look as though they weren’t counting the minutes until she left. Della needed time to prepare her disguise before she was to meet Lord Ashton, and her work couldn’t begin until her parents were safely out of the house. “Ever since you started that club, you spend all your time there.”
Della had used Bishop’s as an excuse to escape the fête the rest of the family was attending this evening. Even though the club was closed on Mondays (and had been for the three years it had existed), her mother hadn’t noticed.
If Mrs. Danby objected to Bishop’s, it was only in an abstract sort of way. Not really an objection so much as confusion. She had never understood why her eldest daughter should want to tie herself down in such an endeavor when she could be socializing instead.
“Annabelle could come with you,” Della volunteered.
“I can’t,” her sister replied without missing a beat. “I have heaps of reading to catch up on.”
They exchanged a simmering glance.
There would be a row over it once they were alone, but Della would be damned if she would let her sister ruin this for her.
Sheneverhad time to do something for herself these days. Della intended to make the most of her evening out with Lord Ashton, and that didn’t include fending off Annabelle’s barbs.
Mrs. Danby sighed, pinching her cheeks in the mirror of her vanity. With her rich, chestnut hair and full lips, she was still a beautiful woman, even in her mid-forties. “For you to manage your own lives then.”
If their mother’s childrearing style had a motto, something to be stitched above the nursery in petit point, this would be it:For you to manage your own lives.
The Danby siblings had been managing their own lives for decades. With great success, as far as Della was concerned.
“Have a good time, Mama. Give my regards to Mrs. Hayward.”
Their parents went out nearly every evening, leaving the children free to do as they wished without any consequence until one or two in the morning. Peter occasionally posed a problem, for though he was as reprobate as any of them, he expected his sisters to hold higher standards. But as he was accompanying their parents this evening, they were quite safe. The moment the front door clicked shut in the latch, Della raced to construct her disguise.
“If you’re going, I’m coming too.” Annabelle hollered after her.
Not if I leave without you.
But this proved easier thought than done. Della had given her maid the night off (her usual reward in exchange for continued silence about everything Della got up to) and now she had to dress herself. Most of her gowns were a bit complicated. Besides which, she still wasn’t sure which one would be least recognizable if they crossed paths with a man she knew.
Annabelle popped into her room without knocking, pausing to stare at the sight of Della in her shift.
“Are you not coming with us? I can accompany your viscount all on my own if you like. He’ll be quite safe with me.”
Annabelle had already donned her disguise in the time that Della had been assessing her options. She was dressed in a gentleman’s suit and top hat, her hair pinned up carefully beneath.
She stole my idea, the little cheat.She looked the part very well, being so slim that she had no figure to hide and so young that her hairless face passed as boyish. Her suit draped perfectly from her narrow shoulders, forcing Della to conclude that she’d had it tailor-made for the occasion. Their father’s and brother’s clothes would have been far too large for her. Where had she found a tailor willing to indulge this scheme?
“You’ve wasted your money on that getup. I’ve already told you, you’re not coming.”
“Then I’ll tell.” Annabelle stuck out her chin defiantly. This was an empty threat, and they both knew it. There could be no appeal to their parents before ten or eleven tomorrow morning. And if Annabelle wanted to betray her secrets, they each had a list a mile long they could use against each other. No one wanted to open that Pandora’s box.
“Don’t be childish. Just let me have my fun for one evening.”
“You can have your fun with that stuffy old hypocrite all you like, just so long as you let me come too.”
Della narrowed her eyes, irritated. She secretly hoped she might kiss Lord Ashton tonight, if the opportunity arose. Annabelle would ruin everything.
“Be honest,” she said. “You aren’t really worried about me. You just want to see the dancers.” Without anyone else here, there was no need to pretend.
“Fine,” Annabelle conceded. “I just want to see the dancers. When else will I have a chance like this one?”
“The ballet.”
“You and I both know it’s not the same thing.”
That was true enough. Della felt her resistance giving way. At times, she and her sister had much in common.
