“No,” she replied, clasping the lady’s hand tighter in gratitude for her concern. “For my investigation has taken a different turn.”
Charlotte looked deep into her eyes and nodded. “The dark green then. It suits you.”
“That’s what Phoebe said.”
“Well then.”
Amelia’s nose twitched. “But she also said Mr Cadwalader likes green and I wouldn’t want him to think…”
Charlotte released her hand and hastened to the wardrobe. “Your charge is just being mischievous and doubtless told him you like green, so I wouldn’t worry.” And a dress the colour of ivy and pure white swished into view.
Amelia tilted her head. “I’ve never worn that one.”
“Was there a reason?”
“No. It’s perfect.”
With much laughter, they endeavoured to slip the gown on without creasing the luxurious satin, although the full sleeves slid awry and the fluted lace snagged on her stays, but at last, Charlotte was busy with the laces at the back, teeth nibbling lip in concentration.
Amelia studied herself in the long mirror opposite. “I read that your Duke of Shawdale is in Town.”
An unladylike curse came from behind. “He’s notmine.”
“The lady doth protest.” And Amelia raised a brow to the reflection. “You had feelings for him though?”
Charlotte scowled over Amelia’s shoulder. “Have you ever had a man gaze at you and felt such an unspoken accord? Have you felt his hand on your waist and experienced such a passionate frisson?”
With a sigh, Amelia nodded.
“I felt all that for Marcus after we danced just thrice at the Ambleside Christmas Ball. I was young, ’tis true, a mere seventeen, but that night…” She gently pulled a lace through its eyelet. “He was so intense, devoted, and I thought his eyes had declared such emotion.” Her forehead creased. “He went to London soon after, for some Town polish, and how keenly I awaited his homecoming, how I thought we’d…” She shookher head. “Yet it must have all been a fanciful notion of my own making, for a stern and aloof nobleman returned. A duke who did not even glance my way. A duke who cared for naught but coin and land. And had become a…” Amelia winced as Charlotte pulled hard on the gown laces. “Crabby hog-grubbing nipcheese!”
“I’m sorry.”
Charlotte led her to the dressing table chair. “Pah! I see him now and then when I am in the Lake District and even his hazel eyes have changed. They used to smoulder green but now they just glint with avarice gold.”
They stayed silent for a while, Charlotte curling Amelia’s hair with hot tongs from the fire, both lost in their own thoughts.
“There we are. All done.”
At that moment came a rattle on the front door, likely the coachman, so while Charlotte descended the stairs to answer it, Amelia took her chance to grab the key hidden inside the handle of a hairbrush and open the bottom dressing table drawer.
An array of elegant hairpins, rings and necklaces nestled in velvet compartments, so after choosing three butterfly pins, she carefully placed them in her coiffure. A faux diamond ring topped with a sizeable faux sapphire was next, and…just in case, the long necklace.
She straightened to assess her aspect in the mirror and tucked the pendant of the necklace into her cleavage.
“Amelia, were you expecting flowers?”
“No.” The most exquisite pink rosebuds were clasped within Charlotte’s hands. “Who are they from?”
A foolish question for she could guess.
A card was handed over.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
To place in your hair.
H.
