“If one of those wretched creatures so much as looks sideways at me,” Claire continued, “I will bop them on the top of the head with my reticule. My most heavily beaded one, at that.”
“Yes, of course,” Rose murmured, making Claire stand still as she eased the gown up over her undergarments, turned her friend, and proceeded to button her up the back.
“You look gorgeous.”
Thank God Claire had her hair done earlier, or they would have been late for sure. It was set in a most becoming style, up at the front, with glorious golden follow-me-boys curls at the back.
“What matter if I look gorgeous?” Claire protested.
Rose thought a moment. “Because if any of those twits from the party are there, they must see that you are the absolute best young lady in Boston and that soon, you will be snagged by the best young man.”
She was careful not to mention Franklin’s name as that resulted in tears despite Claire’s attempt to keep up a state of indifference only mitigated by an occasional outburst of fury. Both conditions were preferable to despair and tears. Moreover, Rose definitely did not want Claire to have red eyes on this momentous evening.
A tap at the door drew their attention.
“Come,” Claire said.
“Mr. Woodsom is here,” Claire’s maid informed them and disappeared.
“How kind of him to pick us up at my house.” Claire seemed to rally. She checked herself in the mirror, added sparkling diamond ear bobs, and grabbed her beaded evening satin cape with fur trim. And her heavy reticule.
Rose watched her. “William is, indeed, very kind,” she agreed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.How kind would he be when he learned of Finn?
“Well,” Claire said, “you’re the one who wanted to get moving. Don’t stand there like a stone statue.”
