Chapter Five
Grace slowly twirled, studying the reflection in the mirror.
Like a caterpillar just realizing it wasn’t one any longer, she studied the beautiful dress that was like fragile butterfly wings, wondering if maybe, if she stepped out on that proverbial ledge, she could actually fly.
The dress made her think it was possible.
It made her want to think it was possible.
But what if she didn’t fly, but simply fell?
The worst part? There was no way to know until after she jumped and tested her wings.
But the dress, dear Lord, she’d never had anything as beautiful. In the shop during the fittings, she’d looked at it, of course. She wasn’t blind. But, the fit, the final stitching, the way the fabric seemed to shimmer. . . it transformed her.
Samantha had said that the pastel shades of purple were all the rage this season, and the modiste agreed. Grace wasn’t sure why it mattered if she had one color purple over another. They all looked quite similar to her, but Samantha had insisted on the muted violet fabric, and now that everything was finished, Grace finally understood why.
Expressive green eyes came alive with the hue of the gown, and she almost didn’t recognize her own gaze. Though never one to boast about thick lashes, for once her reddish-tinted brow and eyelashes didn’t disappear into her pale skin, but came alive. Even her few freckles paled as the color enhanced the cream tones of her skin.
It was settled.
She would wear this dress for the rest of her life.
She twisted her lips at her own absurd thought. Maybe not wear the dress every day, but shewasgoing to march down to Bond Street in the morning and order several other gowns made of the same fabric. Would Samantha protest if she requested to purchase the entire bolt of cloth?
Grace gave her head a slight shake and took a slow breath to ease her spinning mind. She needed to focus, to concentrate on not just looking the part of the lady, but actually being the lady. Her hair was woven with little seed pearls, and looped elegantly with just enough strands to frame her face. She fancied that she looked like one of the Greek goddesses she’d seen in a museum somewhere.
Perhaps a little more clothing, but just as hauntingly feminine.
A knock sounded on her door, and she straightened her posture a fraction more, and practiced a graceful walk to answer it.
Samantha was on the other end. Her expression widened, her breath caught ever so slightly just before a wide, approving smile illuminated her hazel eyes. “Breathtaking, my dear. Utterly beautiful.”
Grace was surprised to see a shining tear gather in the corner of Samantha’s eye.
“Are you well?” Grace asked, immediately on alert.
“So well, very well. Do not concern yourself over me. I’m just so . . . thrilled and proud of you. You look every inch the lady, but Grace—” Samantha paused, took a breath, then continued. “You’re a lady at heart. I know how you think; at least I understand it enough to be able to conjecture how you’re feeling. You’re hoping that the outside will fool people into believing you’re a lady inside as well. But I’m telling you, it’s already true. You are every inch who you appear to be. It’s not all smoke and mirrors, or trying to fool someone. . . you truly are a gently bred, well-trained, well-spoken, graceful, and vibrant lady. Don’t question yourself; it is a great disservice to who you are,” Samantha finished, reaching out gently to grasp Grace’s hand.
Drat. Tears prickled Grace’s eyes as well, and she was sure she was about to turn blotchy and ruin the effect of the dress. But Samantha’s words, they were everything she needed to hear.
Everything she was already thinking.
And for her, Lady Samantha, daughter of the Duke of Chatterwood, a true lady of birth, character, and title, to say that she was one as well . . . it meant the world.
Especially since she had been the one to add the much needed polish to Grace’s life.
“Thank you.” It seemed so wretchedly insufficient a phrase, but it was all she could say. Words were simply not enough.
“It has been my pleasure. And we aren’t finished yet. This is simply the next step, and you’re ready.”
Grace took in a deep breath. “I am.”
“Then let us go, and show London all they are missing by not having made your acquaintance.” Samantha gave a quick squeeze to Grace’s hand and stepped back into the hall.
“Yes. They are missing so much,” Grace replied with a little sarcasm, earning a mock glare from Samantha.
They traveled down the hall, down the stairs, and to the foyer, where the viscount waited for them. He was dressed in his evening kit, cutting a fine figure. He grinned at his wife, then kissed her hand when she reached him.
