“Dash it all,” Fi breathed. “I’m doomed.”
The bruise hadn’t looked bad last night. During the carriage ride back to the theatre, Livy had expertly applied concealing face paint, and Fi had pulled her ringlets forward to hide the area. During intermission, Fi had been careful to stay in the shadowed area of the Hadleighs’ box; no one had seemed to notice anything different about her.
Now, however, the bruise shone like a dashed beacon; it might take days to fade. She shot a desperate glance at the gold shepherdess ormolu clock on her dressing table. The clock face next to the beaming country lass showed that it was already eleven in the morning.
“What do you have to be so cheerful about?” Fi moaned to the innocent shepherdess. “If I don’t figure something out, I am going to land in hot water for certain. How am I going to show my face to my family…and to the visitors who will undoubtedly call this afternoon?”
She’d been lucky her parents had been abed when she arrived home last night. But she couldn’t hide in her bedchamber all day. She rang for Brigitte, praying that her maid could work a miracle. In the meantime, she sat at her dressing table, frantically dabbing on concealing paint.
The knock on her door filled her with relief. “Come in, Brigitte—”
“Fiona, dearest, it is Mama. Papa and I wish to speak with you.”
Her mother’s gentle voice acted like a spring, catapulting Fi from her chair. Shoving the cosmetics into a drawer with shaking hands, she called out, “I am still in my nightgown, Mama, and not presentable.”
“Are you all right?” Mama’s worry filtered through the wood. “It is almost noon. You are never abed this late.”
“I’m fine.” Fi whirled around her room.What can I use to hide my face?
“Fiona, this is Papa. Open the door now.”
Dash it all.
“Um…I can’t. I can’t find my dressing robe,” Fi lied.
“You have at least a half-dozen hanging in your wardrobe,” Mama said helpfully.
“I need time to change. If you’ll just wait for me in the drawing room—”
“Unlock this door, young lady.” Papa’s tone brooked no refusal. “Or I will.”
Fiona backed away from the door. Wildly, she looked for a place to hide…and ducked behind the dressing screen in the corner. And not a moment too soon. She heard the click of the lock, and her parents entered.
“I…I’m just getting changed.” Her heart thundered in her ears; her voice tremored.
“I’ll help you, dear,” Mama said.
“No, truly, it is not necessary—”
It was too late. Mama stood at the opening of the dressing screen. Her blue eyes rounded with heart-wrenching dismay.
“Oh, my heavens!” she cried. “What happened to your face?”
“It was just an accident, Mama. It looks much worse than it is—”
Then Papa was there, looming next to Mama. He roved a pitch-black gaze over Fiona. Seeing the white lines slashed around his mouth, Fi knew she was done for.
“Come out this instant,” he snapped.
She did as she was told. Shoulders hunching, she faced the firing squad.
“I can explain,” she began.
“The time for explanations is over, young lady,” Papa bit out. “We know what you have been up to.”
Fi’s breath jammed in her throat.Oh, no. How did they find out about my investigating?
“We forbid you from further participation in Lady Fayne’s group.” Papa’s expression was foreboding. “Your charity work stops now.”
