“I know that, ma’am.”
“It was in her box that I saw Dauntry last night. I hadn’t thought to have you appear at a significant affair yet, but we will attend.”
Ariana wanted to ask if they had invitations, but the Dowager Countess of Cawle was probably invited everywhere and, if not, would never be refused admittance.
Things were running out of control. A mere mention of Lord Dauntry to deflect attention from Kynaston, and now her hostess had him in her sights. But that wasn’t intolerable. Any target other than Kynaston was a relief, and she couldn’t be dragged to the altar with any man she didn’t want.
“Despite mourning,” Lady Cawle said, “there will be dancing. Dancing gives an excellent opportunity to assess a man.”
Dancing! Ariana had thought mourning would spare her that. “It seems rather soon after Princess Charlotte’s death.”
“Life goes on beneath the mourning veil. You’ve come to Town a-courting, gel. Have some spine.”
“I have plenty of spine. If such a statement makes sense. If I have a suitable gown, I’ll be delighted to attend.” Ariana felt safe in the knowledge that she did not.
Lady Cawle’s smile should have warned her.
At four in the afternoon Mrs. Lassiter arrived. She had been given the task of enlivening Ariana’s black silk evening gown. Lady Cawle must have instructed her to make all speed, for the woman entered Ariana’s bedroom in triumph, followed by an assistant bearing a white muslin bundle. It was unwrapped to reveal a transformation.
The densely black evening gown had been orderedin the early days of mourning, modestly cut with a high neck. Now the bodice had been lowered to an alarming degree. The gown was made of crepe fabric to avoid shine, but now black satin ribbon work gleamed around bodice and hem, and the work on the bodice seemed designed to emphasize the wearer’s breasts.
As a finishing touch, bodice, hem, and long sleeves were also ornamented with a dark gold braid woven through with metallic gold thread, which caught the light.
It had become rich and rather splendid, in only two days.
Mrs. Lassiter was so proud of her work that Ariana obliged with warm thanks, even though she’d wished the woman had been a slow and clumsy worker. She was going to have to attend the ball, but even worse, she was going to have to dance.
She danced with pleasure in Hampshire among people she’d known all her life, but she hadn’t danced elsewhere since that dreadful time eight years ago, when she’d danced with the godlike young Earl of Kynaston.
•••
Later, dressing her hair for the ball, Ethel said, “Stop twitching!”
“I can’t help it.” Ariana let the word out. “Dancing.”
“You dance very well.”
“But this will be among strangers. Of all sizes.”
“You can hope only tall gentlemen ask you to dance.”
“But if a short man asks, I must accept or declare I’m too fatigued.... But I can’t do that for the first dances.”
“Or later,” Ethel said. “Or you’ll be sitting out all night.”
“I might prefer that. No, it would make me an oddity of another sort. Oh, to simply be unremarkable!”
Ethel chuckled. “I doubt you could ever be that.”
“It might be pleasant as a novelty. Perhaps Lady Cawle could hold a tall ball.”
“Then she wouldn’t be able to attend, would she? There, that looks well enough.”
Mrs. Lassister had provided a bandeau of black and gold to match the gown, and it sat well on Ariana’s amber hair, hardly adding another inch.
Ariana stood, trying to be optimistic. “Dancing is a good way to meet a number of gentlemen without it being particular. I felt awkward about having Churston’s escort once I realized I couldn’t marry him.”
“He might not want to marry you.”
