Page 130 of The Dueling Duchess

He scowled and then dropped into a chair, picking up the ancient marquetry box that he’d set on the side table an excruciating half hour earlier. It was his bloody fault for being ready so early, but he’d been too damned keyed up to do anything else.

“Do you think—”

“I think she’ll love it,” Helena said softly.

“But is it too much?” Guy wanted to chew his tongue out for asking such a stupid question. He’d been giving women jewelry since he’d had his first lover at the age of seventeen. He was thirty-three years old and behaving like an idiot.

“I think it is perfect,” Cat piped up, looking up from the book she’d been reading.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Guy said, smiling at her.

He inhaled deeply, held it, and then exhaled; tonight was the night he was going to tell her everything. He was done hiding in the shadows. If she didn’t want him? Well, he’d hang about until the end rather than run off like a rejected boy. There was Cat to consider, after all. Because even if Cecile didn’t want him, he didn’t want to abandon the little girl. Not that he could consider taking her with him; she was far better off in London than in some backwater in America. She could come and see him when she was older. If she still remembered him.

An almost suffocating wave of self-pity rose up in his throat and Guy shook himself.

What was he doing admitting defeat before he’d even engaged in battle? He knew Cecile felt something for him. The only question was whether it was enough for her to overlook their past and trust him with her future.

* * *

“You look just like an angel,” Cecile said, not exaggerating even a little as she stared at Blade.

“That she does, Miss Tremblay, that she does,” Lorna Biggles said, grinning.

Lorna worked for Cordelia Black’s harlequinade players and did the more complicated face paint the troupe required. She also knew a great deal about dressing hair and had been cutting Cecile’s ever since she’d joined the Fayre.

“You did a lovely job on her hair,” Cecile added.

“There was certainly plenty to work with. I’ve never seen such a beautiful color. Leastways not on a grown person,” Lorna admitted.

“You two are making me feel self-conscious,” Blade said in her slightly froggy voice. Her pale eyes—which Lorna had subtly and skillfully made to look even bigger and more luminous—flickered over Cecile, and she smiled. “You look like a goddess come to earth.”

Blade seemed surprised by her own comment and her cheeks turned a delicate pink, which made her look even lovelier.

“Thank you,” Cecile said, turning to have one last look in the mirror. She did look like a goddess come to earth. Her reflection smirked as she imagined Guy’s reaction.

Her gown was a lustrous peacock-blue silk net over an emerald-green underdress, and the tissue-thin fabric flowed like water around her when she moved. The current high-waisted style was good for her figure, which had always been an hourglass but had become fuller as she’d aged.

Cecile was no spring pullet, as the saying went, but she was satisfied with what she saw in the mirror: a woman past her first bloom of youth but who was still beautiful. Her hair was still the same dark brown it had been when she was a girl. And if there were some lines around her eyes, well, she had earned them honestly.

Lorna had dressed her hair simply, the only adornment some small brilliants in blues and greens.

Around her throat she wore an emerald pendant that she’d taken from the cask of paste jewels Guy had found in one of the box rooms. There had been several lovely pieces she’d kept for herself; the rest she’d given Cat to play with.

Her father had needed to sell anything of value to afford their passage, and even the few simple jewels she’d had of her mother’s had been lost on her crossing.

Lovers had tried to give her expensive baubles in the past, but such gifts had always smacked too much of payment for her to accept.

And so here you are without anything nice, going to your first ton ball wearing a theatrical prop.

Cecile wasn’t bothered by the thought. No, all she felt was excitement.

She turned to find Blade staring at her own reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Their eyes met and the other woman smiled, her expression revealing her pleasure at what she saw. And no wonder. She looked like a young girl in the delicate silver-spangled muslin, the cut and fit simple in the extreme. At her throat she wore a truly exquisite set of pearls, complete with earbobs. As ever, Cecile burned with curiosity to know where she’d come by such expensive jewels, but she suppressed her questions.

Lorna had cut a great deal off Blade’s hair. As beautiful as the pale corn silk color was, it had overwhelmed her fine features. With so much of the length and weight gone, it showed a natural propensity to curl. She really did look like an angel.

Lorna set a gorgeous green, blue, and gold wrap on Cecile’s shoulders. “You ladies will be the belles of the ball,” she said, her eyes sparkling even though she wasn’t going with them.

They fetched their reticules and special fans, then went down to the book room, where they’d promised to model their finery for Cat and Helen.