"I don't care if France declares war on England!" Elyse told the girl. "No one will ever know it's eighteen inches and not seventeen."
"Eighteen won't fit," Katy announced. "Madame said it would have to be no more than seventeen or you'd never get the back of the gown closed."
Holding the front of the corset against her firm breasts, Elyse strode across the bedchamber. "Then I won't wear it." Head held high, she threw open the wardrobe. "It's as simple as that," she declared, surveying an array of gowns.
Katy threw up her hands. "Yer grandmother paid a fortune for that dress. The seamstress has been working on it for weeks." A satisfied smile tilted her mouth as she added a final comment, knowing the effect it would have. "Master Jerrold approved the fabric himself. He's expectin' you to wear this gown to the engagement party. I heard him say the lady who's to be the future Lady Barrington has to be properly dressed."
That did it! Elyse whirled back around. "I don't care if Queen Victoria herself selected the fabric! Can't I be allowed to choose anything for myself!"
She jerked first one gown, then another roughly aside, the lace-trimmed corset falling to the floor.
"Good heavens, but yer an indecent chit." Katy swooped across the room, seizing the corset and wrapping it about Elyse's bare body.
"What if someone were to come in just now?"
"And who might that be?" Elyse demanded. "My fiancé, perhaps? I think not." She answered her own question with more than a trace of sarcasm.
"He's far too occupied responding to all the gifts we've received, or," she finally took a deep breath now that she was free of the corset, "visiting his mistress at Brookfield Court!" Her color, now fully restored, spread vividly across her cheeks.
"You don't know that," Katy warned. Her mistress really had her temper up this time.
"Oh yes, I forgot. If we don't speak ofthosethings, then perhaps they'll go away. Dearest Katy," Elyse squared her slender shoulders, "mistresses don't go away, they merely remain discreet. Or perhaps not so very discreet."
"You shouldn't say such things about the man yer to marry. Why, if anyone were to hear you, they'd think you didn't love him," Katy scolded, concern knitting her brows together.
"Would they now."
Elyse remembered the evening at the opera several weeks earlier, when Jerrold's supposedlyformermistress had approached them.
Katherine West had been more than a little intoxicated, and Elyse had felt sorry for her escort. He'd truly seemed like a nice gentleman. But the realization that she hadn't felt the slightest twinge of jealousy at the time was disconcerting. In fact, she'd been amused. After all, how often could a woman actually claim to be socially acquainted with her fiancé's mistress?
She remembered the livid expression on Jerrold's face at her reaction. He'd been cool and distant the remainder of the evening, and she knew the reason. He liked dictating her responses to such situations, just as he liked dictating the gowns she was to wear.
Katy gave her a thoughtful look. "That's it, isn't it?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"What is?" Elyse remarked absently. Her hand closed over a new gown she hadn't yet worn. She pulled it from the wardrobe and turned to Katy.
"I'll wear this one," she stated emphatically. "It'smyfavorite."
"Yer ignoring me," Katy said accusingly.
Elyse smiled, her eyes turning a darker blue with the lie. "That's impossible."
"You don't love him." Katy pinned her charge with an insistent gaze.
It was pointless to lie. Katy would see the truth despite any excuses she tried to give.
Elyse sighed heavily, wishing there were an easy answer. There just wasn't. "I don't know what I feel, Katy. I wish I did."
Katy shook her head. "It's wrong marrying a man ya don't love, even if he is one of the richest men in all England. All the money in the world can't buy happiness."
"It really doesn't matter, does it?" Elyse replied. "After all, a proper lady would never break her betrothal simply because she wasn't certain of her feelings. Now, bring the gown, and be sure to lace me up—eighteeninches."
The humor in her smile was forced. "After all, I have another party to attend. And please, work some of your magic." There was an odd catch in her voice, as she turned for the corset to be laced. "After all, everyone always expects the bride to look radiantly happy."
"You may be able to fool everyone else, including yer grandmother, but yer not foolin' me. I've known you since you were a small child. Have you forgotten? I know everything about ya. And," Katy added, lacing the corset to eighteen inches, "I know you’ve been havin' that dream again."
This time Elyse didn't even try to disguise the truth. "Why is it always the same?" she asked, more to herself. She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the post of the bed.
