The other girl glanced self-consciously down at her gown. “I wanted to stand out.”
“You will stand out by reputation. People will talk about your money, even without you literally wearing your fortune on your sleeve.” Without thinking, May had adopted Agnes’s forthright way of speaking. “And you’ll need to keep your opinions to yourself.”
“What opinions?”
“All of them! If you want to marry a future earl, let alone a duke, you’ll need to impress their mothers. No society mama wants her son to marry a modern girl.”
“Then they aren’tsodifferent from American mothers.”Agnes flashed that bright, hopeful smile again. “So you’re going to help?”
“Oh no—I was just giving you some friendly advice.” May couldn’t afford to be seen with an American husband-hunter. If she wanted to marry Eddy, there was no room for mistakes.
Agnes clapped her hands in sudden excitement. “But of course, we haven’t discussed your payment!”
“Payment?”May wasn’t a tradesman for hire, or someone who accepted bribes.
“You must understand that Americans don’t accept anything for free. So, to thank you for your generous advice, I must insist upon buying you a new gown.”
“I couldn’t possibly accept that.”
“Why not? It’s such a small thing. Please,” Agnes pressed. “I don’t like feeling like I owe anyone, or am in their debt. Let me do something to even the scales between us.”
May was well aware that a new gown far exceeded the value of the advice she had just given. And yet…How glorious it would feel to arrive at a party not in a turned-over dress with recycled lace, but in something new.
She felt her convictions wavering. Men didn’t go to war without armor; how could she wage the greatest campaign of her life, a campaign to marry a prince, without being dressed for battle?
“I don’t know how I would explain a new dress to my father,” May muttered, half to herself.
“Didn’t you just lose your grandmother? I’m sorry for your loss, by the way,” Agnes added hastily. “But could you say that the duchess left you a bit of money and you used it to buy the dress?”
May studied the American girl with new thoughtfulness. If Agnes knew how May was related to the late Duchess of Cambridge, then she reallyhadstudied the aristocracy. Maybe she could hold her own in a drawing room or two.
“What do you need from me?”
“Not much!” Agnes said swiftly. “Just make a few introductions; give me suggestions about my attire or behavior, as you did just now. And warn me about the people I’m going to meet.”
May’s eyes drifted once more over Agnes’s gown. Though it was far too ostentatious, with the train and the gold stitching, it was also sonew,its fabric rich and expensive-looking. She thought of her own drab wardrobe, the way everyone at these receptions looked at her with such pity in their eyes.
“Very well, Miss Endicott. I will introduce you around.”
Agnes squealed in delight. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” May told her, already hoping that she wouldn’t regret this decision.
CHAPTER TEN
Hélène
IT WASN’T EASY IGNORING THEguest of honor at his own party, but if anyone could, it was Hélène.
She’d been in the ballroom of Marlborough House for most of the night, and she’d managed not to make eye contact with Prince Eddy once. Even if some stupid part of herwantedto talk to him, just to find out what he’d meant by his mysterious gift.
After the opera, Hélène had done her best to forget about Prince Eddy. He was a rogue and a libertine, and there was no use getting entangled with him when it would end in heartache. She had almost convinced herself of this—until the package arrived at Sheen House.
Her lady’s maid, Violette, had brought it to Hélène’s room with evident confusion. The packages her mistress received were usually tied with the silk ribbon of a high-end boutique, not wrapped in unmarked brown paper. Violette had stood in the doorway, clearly hoping Hélène would open it in front of her, but Hélène could tell that this was private. She waited for Violette to leave before ripping off the paper.
Inside was a folded plum-colored outfit, the likes of which Hélène had never seen. She’d hurriedly unhooked her day dress and shimmed out of her petticoats to try it on.
The first piece—she supposed they were trousers, though they certainly looked nothing like the ones men wore—was loose and billowing, gathering at the ankles with gold-stitched cuffs that matched the cuffs at her wrists. The blouse was the same rich material, its hem falling to just above the waist of the pants, leaving a pale strip of her stomach bare.
