‘There you go, miss, and you look a real picture too!’Betsy murmured, stepping away from the looking glass so Josephine could fully admire her supper ensemble.
‘Thank you, Betsy,’ Josephine replied, barely recognising the fashionable young lady regarding her back.
‘The pale blue taffeta really is special, miss, especially with the lace flounces and…rouleaux,was it?Miss Sophie really does have a good eye.’
‘Yes, I believe that’s what she called it.’ Josephine looked down her lace bodice to the firm fabric roll at her dress hemline. ‘Apparently, it’s all the rage in Paris, so Knightswood is officially ahead of London now!’ She raised her eyebrows and smiled.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else, miss.’ Betsy handed Josephine a pair of matching gloves. ‘And your ball dress is going to have all the young ladies swooning tomorrow too.’
Josephine glanced at the ivory betrothal dress Sophie had herself designed for the Grand Knightswood Ball. It was the sort of dress everyone should wear at least once in their lifetime, with a fitted bodice, glistening pearl decor and a sheer gauze stitched over, to create a shimmering effect when she moved. She’d spared no pains, and Josephine only wished she felt worthy of wearing it, instead of a consummate fraud.
‘I believe Madame Montmartre would be happy,’ Josephine murmured, watching the candlelight flicker in the sapphire hair pins Betsy had placed in her curled hair.
‘She would indeed, miss, especially finished with the Apollo knot as Miss Sophie suggested,’ Betsy replied, shaking out a discarded chemise. ‘The curls frame your face beautifully.’ She smiled as she made her way to the door. ‘It’s so exciting, miss, the beginning of a whole new chapter.’
Josephine frowned at her dark eyes and ruby lips, stained with a little rouge, before pushing her spectacles firmly up her nose.
‘Or the end,’ she whispered to herself.
* * *
Josephine was reassured by Benson’s kindly smile as she made her way downstairs. He’d accepted a retirement position at Knightswood when Rotherby and Sophie wed, and his very proper, steadfast ways had swiftly endeared him to the rest of the family.
‘Good evening, Miss Josephine,’ he called, nodding his head more regally than royalty. ‘Sir Thomas is gathering everyone in the library tonight.’
Josephine forced a smile. The library was usually her favourite place of escape, but tonight felt very different.
‘Thank you, Benson,’ she replied.
‘And this arrived a little earlier, Miss Josephine.’ He paused to withdraw a package from an inside pocket of his livery. ‘One of the kitchen maids brought it up.’
Josephine looked down at the thin paper package which was addressed only ‘Miss Josephine, Ebcott School’, before frowning and sliding it into her pocket. Then she nodded, and Benson opened the door.
‘Sister!’ Thomas proclaimed instantly, striding forward to take her arm. ‘I declare you look the very image of our dear Mama tonight, which seems so very fitting for this weekend of celebrations. He smiled to acknowledge a ripple of agreement while leaning closer. ‘And I applaud you for having the good sense to know when family duty must prevail,’ he whispered, leading her forward.
Josephine swallowed, taken aback by the chorus of greetings from her siblings, their spouses and selected family friends, including the Hamptons and their guest, Miss Amelia Carlisle. It had been a long time since such a group was gathered under Knightswood’s roof, and for a few minutes it was as much as anyone could do to stay afloat in the overlapping conversations. Yet, she was conscious of one gentleman’s regard from the back of the room, all the while.
‘Oh, my dear!’ Aunt Higglestone gushed, the first to secure Josephine’s sole attention. ‘How very lovely you look this evening,and what exciting news too!’ she added in a loud whisper, looking fit to burst with pride. ‘I could barely believe my ears when Thomas confided in me, but, oh dearest, it is the very thing I dreamed of throughoutallyour seasons, and I knew you’d do it in the end…’
‘Thank you, Aunt,’ Josephine intervened, before everyone was treated to a very plain account of her outstanding failure. She was also aware that most of those assembled had been apprised of her news, but had strict instructions not to speak of it until Thomas made the official announcement.
‘Did you know Sophie sent to Madame Montmartre for this taffeta?’ she continued swiftly, in the hope of distracting her loquacious aunt. ‘Indeed, she designed all of our ball?—’
‘Do excuse the interruption, Miss Fairfax, but I wonder if I might have the honour of escorting you into dinner?’ His voice was charming, and disarmingly near.
‘—dresses, and they are quite the latest fashion…’ Josephine clenched her fingers in her skirt, aware it was the first time they’d spoken since Ebcott, and that Lord Huntingly’s request made them seem the most ordinary betrothed couple in the world. She looked up with a million conflicting thoughts, while her aunt looked on indulgently.
‘Why, yes, of course, Lord Huntingly,’ she mustered with a hollow smile. ‘I should be honoured… thank you.’
He nodded, giving nothing away, and yet lingering all the same. Josephine willed herself not to recall their last encounter in painstaking detail, but it filled her thoughts all the same, sending a heat to her cheeks that fanned out like a telltale whisper. A faint smile creased his lips and she gritted her teeth, knowing he was recalling the same.
‘And have you been well?’ she asked in a brittle tone, ignoring her aunt who was making the greatest drama out of slipping away unnoticed. ‘I must admit, I am growing quite used to sending letters out into a great big silent void.’
A frown flickered across his face as he took her arm and guided her further from the chattering group. ‘I have been away from home these past three weeks, so please accept my apologies if I have missed anything. Believe me, it is not myintention to ignore anything you say. Why don’t you tell me what you wrote instead?’
Carefully, Josephine studied his expression, but his eyes were heavily guarded. She suppressed a frown, also aware that the efforts he’d made with his appearance were at peculiar odds with his absence. His claret evening coat was cut away to a nipped-in waist and fashionable narrow tails; his silk cravat was tied in the hunting fashion and secured with a single diamond pin; and his dress shoes shone with a gleam that put the silverware to shame.
And yet there was a wariness between them that no outward show could breach.
