Clara tugged on the bell-pull and Barnes immediately stepped into the parlor. “My lady?”
“I want the trunks of old clothes in the attic brought down here.”
He bowed. “Yes, my lady.”
“There now, we’ll see what we have.”
An hour later, Clara had pieced together her costume, and held up what looked to be a long, sheer piece of cloth. “This is perfect for you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Vivian’s throat was so tight she had trouble croaking the words out. “There is nothing to it.”
Her cousin glanced at the fabric. “I suppose you could wear a shift underneath.”
“I—I could not. Truly, Clara, I would be almost naked.”
“Come now.” Her cousin advanced upon her. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure it is not as bad as all that.” She held up the cloth, which was much thicker than Vivian had first thought. “There is a black wig as well. No one will know who you are.”
Clara called for their maids, and before Vivian knew it she was gowned as the Egyptian queen Cleopatra.
“I found some of that kohl as well, my lady.” Punt stood back, nodding her head approvingly. “Add a few bangles and a gold necklace, and it will be perfect.”
If only there were a mirror in the room, Vivian could object to the details of the costume, which she was sure was too scant. On the other hand it might not be as bad as she thought. Her maid would not allow her to go out in anything scandalous. “If you think it will be all right?”
“As rain, my lady.”
Vivian had never been to a masquerade before. Would Lord Stanstead be there? If he was, could she be with him and pretend she was someone else? Another lady entirely?
Later that evening, Phoebe Evesham’s town coach arrived for Vivian to carry her to the Worthington’s party precisely as Silvia and Clara started toward their carriage.
Clara shooed Silvia into the town coach, then turned to Vivian before entering the carriage herself. “I am so pleased you and Phoebe have hit it off.”
“I am as well.” Vivian fastened the top button on her cloak. The days were still warm, but the nights were becoming cooler. She counted herself fortunate indeed. It had been such a long time since she’d been around people she could trust. “It is pleasant to have made friends.”
She waved as her cousin’s coach drove off before giving the Evesham’s driver the order to start. Lord Stanstead had not responded to her message this morning. Although he might not have received it before he had left his card at the house.
Despite telling herself she could not form an attachment, she wished she knew if he was attending the same entertainment she and Phoebe were. Still, if he was searching for a wife, he would most likely attend one of the balls Clara and Silvia would visit.
Vivian was tempted to give herself a good scold. It was silly to want him to spend more time with her. She would be leaving Town soon, and he should be going about the job of marrying and producing an heir.
Yet when she entered the first room in a series of large rectangular connecting parlors, the first thing that caught her eye was him, leaning elegantly against the wall, speaking with Lord Rutherford.
A smile lit his lovely gray eyes as he captured her gaze and sauntered forward. “My lady. I had hoped you would attend Lady Worthington’s drum.” Without her leave and before she could object, Lord Stanstead appropriated her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. “I am deeply sorry I missed our trip to the museum. You must allow me to make it up to you.” His voice was soft and made her feel as if she were the only person in the crowded rooms. “Please say yes.”
Vivian’s skin warmed with his touch. She’d never had a gentleman pay her such attention. “Yes, of course.” And she enjoyed it far too much. “Tell me how your bill went this morning.”
“First, I want to know if I may escort you to the museum to-morrow.”
Most gentlemen would have immediately begun speaking about themselves. It pleased her that he did not. “I would be delighted.” Vivian glanced up to smile at him and sucked in a breath. There was nothing of the boy in him now as he focused all his considerable attention on her.
Lord, he was a handsome man, as well as strong and kind. Everything any lady could wish for.
If he knew how deformed she was, he would not be here now. She should find a way to tell him. Instead, wanting to enjoy his company for a while longer, her lips wobbled into a slight smile. “Now about your bill.”
As they strolled the rooms, he told her about the battles he faced. From the bickering about where the money would come from, to those who believed the government owed the former soldiers nothing. There was apparently more sympathy for the widows of officers than anyone else. Most likely because they were ladies, not part of the masses. Several times they stopped and he introduced her to other friends and allies of his as well as those she now knew as well. How easy it would be to live in this world of politics, power, and forward thinkers. With these people her intellect might be valued and she could make herself useful.
As the house had no ballroom, the carpets were rolled back for dancing, the music was supplied by a string quartet, and she found herself in Lord Stanstead’s arms again. If only she could encourage him, if only her body wasn’t somehow disfigured.
“Have I told you how well you dance?” His breath caressed her ear.
