“Life goes on, Angela,” Meg said. Her friend nodded.
“Very true,” Miss Worth said. “Madam, allow me to lift this one section. It droops a little too low.” She gathered her pincushion and knelt on the floor again.
Standing still, Meg glanced in the mirror again, hardly able to believe the transformation. The sheer delight of a beautiful gown and the joy of looking wonderful in it were diminished somewhat by heartbreak and apprehension. She would see Dougal tonight, and all her yearning and love would come to nothing if he would not forgive her. If she had lost his love and respect through foolishness, then all the splendid gowns in the world would make no difference to her.
Then she gave herself a grim reminder; even if Dougal still loved her, and though she loved him, she had to accept Roderick’s proposal. It might be the only way to ensure safety for Dougal and Sean. Tonight, her highly anticipated glittering party felt more like an approaching funeral, as if her lifelong dreams for happiness had ended.
Yet she must carry on, maintain a smile and keep a proud demeanor for their sakes.
Drawing a breath as Miss Worth sat back, Meg turned, aqua skirt and its tulle cloud swinging gently. “Shall we go downstairs? Mr. Hamilton will be impatient, waiting for us so that we can all leave for the concert.”
Angela took up her fan and her black lace shawl. “When Mr. Hamilton sees you coming down the stairs, he will realize that waiting for you was well worth it.”
“My dearest Angela,” Meg said, “I suspect Mr. Hamilton is waiting for you.”
*
Lamplight spilled goldenover his freshly shaved jaw and set gleaming highlights over his wavy hair. Glancing into the mirror, Dougal straightened the white silk bow wrapped beneath his collar points, smoothed the lapels of his white brocade waistcoat, gave its buttoned front a tug, and pulled at his stiff cuffs. His boots were polished, coat and trousers were immaculate. Sliding his hands into white gloves, he swatted the long tails of his black dress coat.
Girded for battle, he thought. Now to see where it led.
In the mottled sheen of the mirror, his eyes were green glass, cold and hard. His cheeks were lean and shadowed, tiny lines etched the corners of his eyes, and his lips were pressed tight and humorless. Every fiber in his being had steeled to resolve and defiance.
He would step into this elite crowd with the same grit and determination he summoned to brave a gale or dive deep into the sea—or push a monstrous shark away to rescue a small boy. No one he would see tonight could be as terrifying as the physical dangers he had encountered—or so he told himself. Yet their judgments and opinions, their haughty criticisms and assumptions, were unsettling. But he had made the commitment to attend and would not take the coward’s way out. He would attend the concert with his cousin and her husband, and then he would walk into Lady Strathlin’s home with all the dignity and backbone that he could muster.
The woman he loved, the woman he wanted to marry—and suddenly he did not know her at all.
But in these last few days, he had shored himself against that meeting. He would greet her, move on. He had no more heart left to hurt; anger and betrayal had rendered his heart numb.
Easy enough to survive the evening, he thought, as he headed for the door. How he was to endure the rest of his life without her remained to be seen.
*
Meg watched thestage, its heavy burgundy velvet curtains closed. Below her theater box, the auditorium continued to fill with attendees, some of them staring up at her and her companions in the box. She looked away, wafting her fan, watching the stage. Beside her, Mrs. Berry snapped her feathered fan to hide her face as well.
Guy Hamilton, handsome in black-and-white dinner attire, leaned forward from his upholstered chair behind her, where he sat beside Angela Shaw. “With three beautiful ladies in this box,” he said, “people cannot help but stare.”
“Well, true,” Mrs. Berry conceded. “But this isna the beach at Caransay.”
“Did someone stare on the beach there?” Guy asked, sounding amused.
“Indeed so, and my lady in a simple gown, and barefoot, too,” Mrs. Berry whispered. “And I was in mybathing costume,” she confided, looking mortified. “But it was Mr. Stewart o’ the lighthouses, so he could be forgiven,” she added. “He is a fine man, charming and handsome, though I havena spoken with him maself.” Mrs. Berry went on, “Brave, too. He saved a small lad from drowning. And fought off a shark! It was astonishing.”
“That is impressive,” Guy admitted.
“Madam, you never mentioned that incident,” Angela said, leaning forward.
“Mr. Stewart saved—Sean from drowning. It was very courageous,” Meg said.
“Oh! I must congratulate Mr. Stewart. That is remarkable,” Angela said. “I look forward to meeting him here. It is a shame what the solicitors have done lately. Nearly ruined him, they say. Surely he did not deserve that.”
Meg sighed, feeling miserable at the reminder. As she looked out over the sea of heads and shoulders, colorful silks and feathered headdresses, men’s wide shoulders in perfect black, she could not help but search for Dougal Stewart.
He was here somewhere—she sensed the inexorable pull of his presence so strongly that her heartbeat quickened. But it was impossible to find one man in that vast and glittering crowd, no matter how well she knew the turn of that head, the set of those shoulders.
And if he did see her, she felt sure he would turn away from her. By now, he would know the truth, either from Roderick, or because she had mistakenly dropped her card on MacBain’s front step.
The orchestra tuned their instruments, the gaslights dimmed, and then the voluminous draperies separated to reveal a bare stage but for a small table holding a vase of flowers, a pitcher of water, and a single glass. The theater went silent.
