Brigitte assisted her into her shift, linen pannier, and petticoats. A pale pink embroidered corset cinched in her waist and made her gasp, pushing up her breasts. She stepped into the quilted petticoat.
Seated before the mirror, the maid lightly powdered and combed Kate’s hair over a foundation, arranging side curls and a garniture of pearls and imitation roses to the tall creation. Her face was then powdered with a hare’s foot and lip rouge and color were added to her mouth and cheeks.
“Now the gown, my lady,à la française,” Brigitte said in a hushed voice.
The moss green silk gown was brocaded in pink and gold roses with a flounce of lace at her elbows. The low neckline dipped alarmingly. Kate slipped her feet into the shoes and raised her skirts to admire her matching green ribbed silk toes.
She turned before the mirror barely recognizing herself.
Brigitte picked up a fan painted with flowers. “And the fan, my lady. No lady is without one. You must flirt with it.”
“Flirt?”
“Like this.” Brigitte opened the fan, displaying a lovely painted rural scene and fluttered it before her face. “Like a coquette,oui?”
“I suppose so,” Kate said doubtfully.
“It is called the amorous flutter,” Brigitte said, warming to her theme. “There is also the angry flutter, like this.” She snapped it shut. “The modest miss,oui, like this? A merry lady, like this….”
She expertly twirled the fan.
“Oh stop,” Kate said, laughing. “I shall never feel comfortable doing any of that.”
“But that is the way of society ladies,” Brigitte said. “I learnt it in France from the Countess De Avignon.”
“Well, perhaps I’ll ease into it gradually,” Kate added after a disappointed moue appeared on Brigitte’s lips.
Brigitte immediately brightened, handing her the fan and her beaded reticule which contained a handkerchief, a small notepad and pencil, a tiny mirror, comb, perfume, and Robert’s present.
Her gloves in her hand, she descended the marble staircase to the salon, gracefully, she hoped. Robert waited, resting an arm along the mantel, holding the bell shape of a brandy glass to his lips.
His eyes widened, and he spluttered as the brandy went down the wrong way. She was gratified to see his gaze roam appreciatively from her head to her feet, lingering on her bosom in the low-necked gown. His hot glance made her blush. “You look beautiful, Kate.”
She curtsied. “Thank you, Robert. So do you.”
He raised a brow, his lips curving into a smile. “Beautiful?”
She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Fine-looking, I mean.”
He came toward her, his cream silk frock coat swinging gracefully above long, well-shaped legs encased in dark smallclothes. A diamond sparkled in the lace folds at his throat.
High-heeled jeweled shoes made him very tall. He still wore the black arm-band in memory of his uncle. It was the first time she’d seen him in a white wig with his face powdered, oddly it made him even more masculine because it defined his high cheekbones, blade-like nose, and strong jaw. A black patch was placed at the corner of his mouth.
A strange heavy sensation settled in her stomach that was ever-present when he was near, nerves but something else, too, desire. She didn’t trust his restrained elegance. He reminded her of a panther held by fragile silken bonds. Never to be tamed.
He snapped open the lid of a velvet box. Nestled inside was a parure of diamonds, consisting of a breathtaking necklace, earrings, brooch, and bracelet.
Kate gasped. “Oh, my!”
“Turn around, my dear.”
He removed the sparkling necklace from the box and placed the cold gems around her throat. She tamped down a shiver at the soft touch of his fingers on the nape of her neck. He handed her the box. “I’ll let you put the ear-bobs on yourself.”
Kate stood before the gilt-framed mirror above the fireplace. She shook her head, and the diamonds swung from her ears, catching the light in a myriad of colors. With a grin, she leaned forward and touched them with a finger.
She pirouetted to show him. “Do you approve?”
“Magnifique.” He chuckled at her high spirits and came to clasp the bracelet around her wrist. “The gown is perfect for you. I must write and thank my aunt.”
