Page 74 of The Duchess Games

“Any dress that fits you and Lady Summer is not going to fit me,” Cat pointed. “I’m too… everything.”

Viola frowned harder. “But your dress…”

“Will have to do,” Cat said, refusing to wonder what it might be like to wear such a vibrant dress with so much embroidery. Tonight, she would wear Matthew’s trousers under her ten-years-out-of-fashion and not-quite-formal-enough dress. It had been a gift to their mother from the captain, a redingote with a boned stomacher and scoops of lace she had sewn on just this morning. She needed to be remembered, but not noticed and it would do the trick. Should someone later investigate a haul of contraband on the night of the Tremaine ball, more than one person would recall her dress having remarked their grandmother had one just like it.

Every detail had to be perfect. Every part of the plan needed backup.

Not to mention that muslin dresses did not hold up to running or hauling or sea spray.

“I think you should wear the green,” Cat told her sister. “It will be brilliant with your eyes.”

Those green eyes which watched her shrewdly. “Is everything set for tonight?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She sniffed. “I know you’re trying to keep me out of it, but I can at least keep the custom agents distracted.”

Cat hugged her. “I appreciate it, but I want you to enjoy yourself. When are we likely to be invited to a ball again?”

“Between the turtles and the dog and the spoons, not likely.” She grinned. “Do you think I’ll open the ball on your duke’s arm? The dowager hasn’t announced the winner yet. Ruby is positive it will be you though.”

Cat snorted. “Definitely not. Percival dropped a chewed-up potato on the dowager’s foot.”

She’d sent Percival home to Matthew as a precaution. He would chew something prohibitively expensive if he was left unattended. Or Lady Wandsworth might steal him from the room. From Cornwall altogether.

“Good point.” Viola reached for the green gown. It had tiny gold leaves along the daring neckline. “Will you help me get dressed?”

Cat helped her sister into her stays and her dress, lacing up the ribbons at the back. She wore her tiny pearl around her neck. “You look beautiful. But it needs something.”

She glanced around, settling on a decorative gold cord sewn onto a cushion. She unstitched it while Viola gaped at her. “You won’t even let Percival look at the cushions in here.”

This was her last night at Penhallow. What was the harm?

She wound the gold through Viola’s hair. The candlelight caught it, gleaming. Viola grinned at her reflection in the cheval glass. “It’s worth the risk of arrest.”

Cat grinned back, feeling lighter. This was why she was risking arrest, not for hair baubles or silk. But for that happy, carefree expression on her sister’s face. It was worth it. For one night, Viola wouldn’t have to worry about the next meal and her brother would not have to go out in the boats anymore, fighting storms and the French navy. After a couple more drops, she might even be able to get him that apprenticeship with the blacksmith.

She put on the blue dress, pants well hidden under the wide skirts. There was a small split bum-roll that tied around her waist, creating a silhouette that hid the extra material underneath. Best of all, the skirt was a separate piece that could easily be removed. She’d already hidden proper boots at the edge of the garden.

She was ready.

The neckline was square instead of the more popular rounded lines, and her cleavage was… noticeable. She’d forgotten how the old styles pushed the breasts out.

“I take it back,” Viola said. “You don’t need a new dress. That looks perfect.”

Cat wrinkled her nose. “I look like the lusty tavern wench in a bad gothic novel.”

“You look like a goddess.”

“So do you.”

“A fairy princess, maybe. But I’ll get there.”

They descended the stairs together, candles burning in every sconce and lamps on every table. “The Sparrow sisters at a ball,” Viola breathed as the music drifted towards them. “Who would have ever guessed?”

“And I don’t even have a badger or an injured gull in my pocket,” Cat laughed.

“The night is young,” Viola shot back drily.