CHAPTER 8
Marianne stared at herself in the full-length mirror in her dressing room and shook her head for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. She hardly recognized herself.
“You did wonders in such a short time, Hannah, I truly appreciate it,” she whispered because she felt her servant staring and didn’t want her to think the silence was due to disappointment.
No, that wasn’t the emotion in her chest at all.
“Thank you. You really do look lovely, Lady Marianne.”
“I assume my brother has arrived to escort Aunt Beulah and me to the ball. Do you think you could go down to them and tell them I’ll only be a moment more?”
Hannah’s brow wrinkled a fraction and then she nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
She scurried from the room and Marianne looked at herself again. Where she normally had a plain bun at her nape, Hannah had wrapped and curled and braided her dark locks until they shone and fluttered in a more fetching way. She’d also put some jeweled clips into her hair, ones once worn by her late mother. They did draw the eye.
She’d lightly rouged Marianne’s cheeks and lips, just enough to give color. A good thing, since she knew she was more pale than usual thanks to her nerves about the night.
And then there was the dress. She’d spun herself into knots trying to picture what it would look like. She’d feared looking almost naked with all the frills removed. And yet that was not the effect. Oh yes, there was more shoulder revealed, more of the curve of her bosom. But the increased simplicity of the gown actually made her feel…pretty.
She hadn’t felt pretty in a very long time.
She shook her head and turned away from the mirror before she took her reticule, complete with her dance card for the evening, and made her way downstairs where her family waited for her. She drew a deep breath and smoothed her skirt before she entered the parlor.
Her aunt and brother were standing by the sideboard and he was smiling as she finished a drink. They both turned when she entered the room and she saw their expressions change to ones of twin shock.
“I-I’m sorry I was late,” she stammered, knowing her cheeks were turning the same color as her dress beneath their intense scrutiny.
“Marianne!” Aunt Beulah gasped. “You look…”
She trailed off and Marianne found herself smoothing her skirt again. “It’s too much?”
“No,” Finn said, stepping forward. “You look lovely, Mari.”
“Very lovely, my dear,” Beulah reassured her.
They both seemed sincere enough and Marianne relaxed a fraction. That was the first test passed. Neither of them had called her a jezebel or laughed at her for trying to be bolder.
“Would you like a drink?” her brother asked.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said. “And I’ve delayed us long enough. We should depart, should we not?”
He stared at her a moment and then slightly inclined his head. “Certainly.”
He took their aunt’s arm and together they went out to where the carriage awaited them. Marianne tensed as he helped her in beside Beulah. She could feel Finn watching her, reading her. He had questions, it seemed, even if he had no judgments. And she didn’t want to answer those questions. She didn’t want to hear all his protection come to the forefront. She didn’t want to feel him watching her all night as he tried to keep her from any harm or from any change that would help her be, even momentarily, something more than a boring spinster.
But somehow he didn’t ask during the short ride. Beulah kept him busy discussing a play Finn had apparently seen a few nights before, and that allowed Marianne the ability to look out the window, take a few breaths and try to ready her mind for what was about to happen.
They came into the line of carriages that wrapped around the circular drive at the beautiful home of the Duke and Duchess of Brighthollow. She didn’t know either of them well, though she did know the duke’s sister, Elizabeth. The young lady hadn’t been a wallflower or a spinster, per se, but it had been clear she’d never enjoyed Society much. Marianne had always liked her.
Finn helped them each down and once again escorted their aunt up into the house and the line of those greeting the duke and duchess. Since they were later than most, it all moved along swiftly and she found herself greeting the handsome duke and the truly beautiful duchess. The woman seemed to shine, with her bright blue eyes and sleek black hair. Marianne felt dowdy, not daring, next to her, dress or no dress.
And yet Her Grace caught both of Marianne’s hands and squeezed after they were introduced. “Oh, Lady Marianne, I’ve heard so much about you from our dear Lizzie.”
Marianne blushed at being remembered. “How lovely. I was just thinking of her as we came up the stairs. Is she in London?”
“No, you may have heard of her recent marriage,” the duchess said with a quick glance and smile toward the duke. “She is honeymooning right now at our country estate.”
“Ah, yes, I’d heard of her marriage.” Marianne tried to maintain her smile. She hadn’t been jealous of Elizabeth when the news had spread. There was no one in the world who deserved more happiness than the kind, quiet young woman. But she certainly had felt a little deflated by it. She sometimes allowed herself to believe that after a certain point, one just gave up on the idea of a union.
