“Hired,” Graham said. “Paid. Due to arrive at four o’clock for tuning. They have been instructed on the theme and the pacing of sets.”
“On the theme,” Eleanor repeated.
Graham’s mouth did not twitch, but his eyes did. “Yes, Your Grace. They were informed to select compositions that evoke –”
“Water,” Eleanor supplied.
“Precisely,” he said. “Without becoming… theatrical.”
Mrs. Hargreaves murmured, “Thank God.”
Eleanor smiled. “And the livery stable.”
“Ready,” Graham said. “Additional lanterns have been placed along the drive. Two grooms assigned. Four footmen at the entry. A runner stationed at the side door should any carriage arrive early.”
Eleanor nodded. “Excellent.”
She found she could breathe again. The list in her mind clicked into place one item at a time, each answered.
Mrs. Hargreaves tilted her head. “Are you satisfied now?”
Eleanor hesitated, then admitted, “Almost.”
“Good,” Mrs. Hargreaves said briskly. “Then you will return to your dressing rooms and allow yourself to be made presentable.”
Eleanor’s cheeks warmed. “I am presentable.”
Mrs. Hargreaves looked her over with the calm authority of a woman who had seen duchesses in their worst states. “You are restless.”
Eleanor gave in. “Very well.”
As she climbed the stairs, she found her nerves settling enough that she could focus on what came next.
Not the candles. Not the music.
James.
She reached her rooms to find her maid already in motion, laying out pins, ribbons, and jewelry. A second maid arrived with a parcel under her arm, eyes bright.
“Your Grace,” her maid said, a little breathless. “The modiste has arrived.”
Eleanor’s pulse jumped. “Now?”
“Yes, Your Grace. She says she has brought the final selections.”
Eleanor did not know why she felt suddenly young. Ridiculous. She had worn gowns all her life.
But not for him.
Not with a room full of people watching how he looked at her.
The modiste swept in as though she owned the air itself, two assistants behind her carrying carefully wrapped garments.
“Your Grace,” the woman said, dipping into a polished curtsey. “We have outdone ourselves.”
Eleanor lifted her chin. “Show me.”
The first gown was exquisite, pale and shimmering, but too safe. The second was dramatic and too heavy for the theme.
