“You would be wise to get some beauty rest, Lady Cornelia.” Lady Forrester leaned toward her in an undertone, as if Charles could not possibly hear. “You do not want to appear tired on such a special evening.” Her voice dripped sympathy, but her blue eyes seemed calculating. “Dark shadows under the eyes are to be avoided. Should you require assistance, I shall send my maid to you. She has an excellent remedy.”
“How kind, but please don’t bother.”
It was true, Nellie hadn’t slept well these last few nights. But she suspected the widow was pleased to have Charles to herself. Nellie fought not to show her displeasure, for it was the height of rudeness to flirt with Charles, and under Nellie’s very nose. Arabella didn’t fool her for a moment. She attempted to take advantage of the situation. It was no secret that the joining of two old families lay behind this arranged marriage. Perhaps she saw a role for herself as Charles’s mistress and might even have read the article in the newspaper about him and his French mistress.
Charles stood and drew back Nellie’s chair before the footman could leap into action. “I hope you find time to rest this afternoon, Lady Cornelia.”
“I will, thank you.” She climbed the stairs, frowning at a disturbing thought. Did Charles want her out of the way so he could continue his conversation with Lady Forrester?
Marian came into her bedchamber as Nellie donned a dressing gown. After she dismissed Lilly, she related to her sister what had occurred with Arabella Forrester.
“Shewsbury is not a fool. He would hardly cause a scandal here,” Marian said.
“There’s nothing to stop him from making an arrangement for the future.” Nellie tied the ribbon bows down the front. “Even a clever man cannot be entirely relied upon to behave well where a beautiful, wily woman is concerned.” She joined her sister on the chintz settee, the tea tray on a table in front of them, and opened the caddy.
Marian took the cup of tea from her. “You’re not ready to trust him yet. That’s perfectly understandable.”
Nellie stirred sugar into her cup. “I’m not blind to the advantages Papa sees in marrying one of us into the Shewsbury family, but why did the old duke wish it?”
“It was a schoolboy agreement. Apparently, they were at Eton together. The duke’s firstborn son was to marry a daughter of Papa’s. Should the good Lord see fit to bless them.”
“Michael was the firstborn. There was talk of you marrying him.”
“Yes, at one point, but he was too ill. Then, of course, he died.”
“So, if he had not been ill, you would have been the one to marry a man you did not love.”
“Yes. I have been blessed to be allowed to choose my husband, even though Papa disapproved of him. I wished the same for you.” Marian sighed. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any sign that the duke is anything other than a decent man.”
Nellie thought a decent man could succumb to a determined beauty as easily as a rake could, but it sounded sour, and she refrained from mentioning it. “I am so glad you’re here,” she offered. Her sister always buoyed her up. She had missed Marian’s company most dreadfully since she’d married. “I hope you’re right about him. It’s all so horribly rushed.”
“You can get to know each other better in London before the wedding.”
Nellie nodded thoughtfully. “Hopefully, we shall still like one another when we meet at the altar.”
Marian took a sip of tea. “I adore you, dear sister, but sometimes I wish you weren’t so serious and complicated.”
Startled, Nellie laughed. “Am I?”
“Don’t think so much. Take things as they come.” Marian put down her cup and saucer and rose. “Now, please rest. It’s not long until dinner.”
Nellie lay down, but the excitement of the coming evening banished any hope of sleep. She threw off the cover. Rising, she peered into the mirror. Perhaps she should consult Lady Forrester’s maid for help to banish the tiredness from around her eyes.
After a lavish formal dinner where Nellie, seated once again at a distance from Charles, watched him hold the attention of everyone within earshot, they retired to dress for the ball.
At eight o’clock, Lilly was on the floor at Nellie’s feet with needle and thread, sewing on a silk violet which had come loose from the elaborately decorated hem. Lilly bit through the thread and stood. “It’s secure now, my lady.”
“You’ll ruin your teeth doing that,” Nellie observed. She moved to the mirror and turned before it as a white satin slipper poked from beneath her gown. Pearl and diamond earrings caught the light, and similar jewels glittered on her wrist and at her low décolletage.
The door opened, and her mother entered, resplendent in swathes of pale blue silk, the family sapphires on display at her throat and ears. One quelling look at Peter, and the dog deserted the sofa and curled up in his bed on the carpet. “Dismiss your maid, Nellie. There is something I must discuss with you.”
Nellie hoped it wasn’t another attempt to describe what happened between husband and wife in the bedchamber. She nodded to Lilly, who gathered up her sewing paraphernalia, placed it in her basket, and slipped from the room.
“You look wonderful in that shade of blue, Mama.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Mama examined Nellie’s gown, turning her this way and that. “Madame Bonnet has done well. You will have the duke at your feet.”
Nellie didn’t believe that for a moment. The cool, composed duke would prefer she be at his feet. She looked at the ceiling, wishing Marian hadn’t given her quite so much information about what couples got up to. She adjusted the bodice, which showed a good deal of her chest. “Do you really think so, Mama?”
