Not that she begrudged her sisters their happiness, but she did miss them dreadfully. Oh, she visited them as often as she could, but Phee preferred to remain at home, and Tilly didn’t like to leave her there alone.
Harriett was nothing like Emmeline, Juliet, or Helena, of course. Whatever naivete the Templeton sisters had once possessed had been tarnished by scandal, whereas Harriett remained as innocent as a daisy damp with morning dew.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Tilly.” Harriett was twisting this way and that, trying to get a peek at what Tilly was doing. “What will I wear, if it ends up cut into ribbons?”
“I promise you it won’t. Now hold still.” Tilly snipped at the tiny stitches until the bodice was free of adornment, and showed off Harriett’s trim figure to advantage. “There! That’s much better. Turn around, and see for yourself.”
Harriett had gone rather pale, but she did as she was told, and when she caught sight of her reflection, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, Tilly! I had no idea you were such an accomplished seamstress! Why, you could be a fashionable London modiste, if you wished.”
“And put up with all those demanding belles and their shrieking mamas? No, indeed. Anyway, I didn’t do anything magical. I merely removed some of the trimmings. The gown is beautifully cut, and doesn’t need them.”
Harriett twirled about in front of the mirror, her pale blue silk skirts whirling around her. “I can’t believe how different it looks.”
“Here, we’ll do a sash like this, just in case I’ve missed any loose threads.” She turned Harriett back toward the glass and tied a wide white ribbon around her waist.
“Why, it’s like an entirely different gown! It’s perfect, Tilly.” Harriet turned and clasped her hands. “Thank you.”
“Yes, it’s a dramatic improvement, isn’t it? Really, I don’t know why the modistes insist on smothering everything in bows. As for your hair, we’ll pull it back into a chignon, with just a few loose curls at your temples, like this, and secure it with your pearl bandeau. There we are!”
Harriett touched the cluster of curls, a shy smile on her face. “It’s perfect.”
“Good.” Tilly squeezed Harriet’s hands. “Now we may go downstairs.”
The two of them made their way from the bedchamber down the stairs to the second floor ballroom, where several hundred of theton’s most elegant aristocrats were waiting for them.
Along with one unconscionable rake, and a looming scandal.
Her first bit of business was to find the Earl of Prestwick, and once she did…
She’d do whatever she must—plead, threaten, lie, and yes, beg until he swore he’d keep their disastrous first meeting to himself.
* * *
“I haveno idea how you’re meant to identify Lady Harrietthere, Prestwick.” Darby glanced around Lady Fosberry’s ballroom with a puzzled frown. “All these chits look alike.”
“How ungallant of you to say so, Darby.” Not untrue, however.
He and Darby had been standing to one side of the ballroom for half an hour now, and in that time, dozens of young ladies had passed by. One of themmighthave been Lady Harriett, but damned if he could distinguish her from any of the others.
It had been six years, after all. She’d been little more than a child then.
He was certain to stumble upon her sooner or later, but at the moment, he had a more pressing problem. He had to find the doxy who’d—
No, not a doxy! Shewasn’ta doxy, damn it.
The young lady, then, the guest of Lady Fosberry’s who’d sneaked into his cottage and tossed a decanter’s worth of absinthe in his face. He’d have no trouble recognizingheragain, but there was no sign of her so far.
“Come, Prestwick. You must remember something about Lady Harriett. Is she fair, or dark? Tall, or short? Slender, or plump? What color is her hair?”
“Brown?” Yes, he was quite sure her hair was brown. “She’s neither particularly tall, or short, neither slender or plump, but somewhere between the two.”
“Well done. You’ve just described half the young ladies in the ballroom.”
“What would you have me say, Darby? I never imagined I’d be required to distinguish her from hundreds of other young ladies. Why isn’t she at Lady Fosberry’s side? Surely, that would be a reasonable place to expect her to be?”
“Damned if I know. I’ve never been to atonball before, and now I see why. Rather a dull affair, isn’t it, with all these pale-faced chits in their pastel gowns? How is a man meant to tell one of them from…ah, now wait a moment. What have we here?”
“What?” Kit followed Darby’s gaze. “Who are we looking at?”
