“Sir?” Piggott poked his head in the room. “I’ve got your tub set up in the dressing room.”
Kit strode out of the parlor. He couldn’t wait to get home and have Mary to himself. If he hurried, he could watch her being dressed.
Forty-five minutes later, he swore as he threw down another neckcloth, missing the pile on the floor. He was getting as bad as Brummell had been.
Piggott handed him another one. “Sir, if I might suggest you calm yourself.”
“I am calm,” Kit ground out.
“I think Piggott is right.”
Kit glanced around. Mary stood with her back against the door. All being in a hurry had done was cause him to miss seeing her dress. “You are beautiful.”
As she strolled forward, two champagne glasses in her hands, the sheer overskirt embroidered with white thread was unable to hide the way in which the pale-yellow silk gown outlined her hips. The bodice, also embroidered in white, sparkled as it caught the sunlight. “They look like diamond chips.”
“Nothing so extravagant.” She chuckled. “They are paste.” Her gaze roamed over his body, and his muscles tightened, wanting her. She touched the front of his shirt. “I must say I like the look, though I think some of the older ladies might be scandalized.”
Kit grinned as Piggott’s complexion deepened. “You didn’t wait for me.”
She raised her brows, looking at him as if he were daft. “Ididn’t wish to be late. It isourwedding breakfast.” Mary made herself comfortable on the dressing-table chair. “Please continue.”
Kit took a breath. This one would have to be right. Wrapping thewide cloth around his neck, he proceeded to tie it, then lowered his jaw down slowly a few times.
Next to him, Piggott frowned. “I don’t recognize that one.”
Glancing at Mary, Kit grinned. “No? It’s Featherton’s Amour.”
Piggott gave a sigh of relief and placed a ruby and diamond tiepin in the snowy folds. After Kit’s jacket was on, he added his pocket watch and quizzing glass.
Mary rose, giving him a glass of champagne. “Congratulations, Mr. Featherton.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you, my lady.” Tossing off his champagne, he held out his arm. “I think we should be on our way.”
They’d been excused from the receiving line in order to make a grand entrance into the ballroom, thus allowing Finella and Cormac to slip away unnoticed.
Later, as they were mingling, Huntley caught Kit’s eye, nodded and raised a glass. Kit bent his head, pressing his lips close to Mary’s ear. “They’re away.”
She smiled, as if he’d whispered a sweet nothing to her, and the couple they were speaking with made a jest about new love.
They ambled around the ballroom until Mary said, “I think Lady Simon might need help.”
Kit glanced over. An older man with a stern scowl appeared to be almost to the lady. “I wonder if he’s a friend of her father’s.”
“I don’t know, but if we can assist her, we should.”
He and Mary arrived in time to hear the gentleman say, “I don’t see your father here.”
Lady Simon raised her chin. “You should know he and Lord Titus are not friendly.”
The man’s jaw moved as if he were chewing a cud. “Where are your children? I haven’t seen them.”
She glanced around as if searching for them. “They are here somewhere. I specifically tasked Cormac with taking care of his sister. If you see them, you may send them to me. We should be leaving soon.”
The older man inclined his head. “I suppose I’ll see you at some of the entertainments.”
“We have decided to go home. Neither my son nor my daughter is having a good time. I believe they are both too young for what the Season has to offer.”
The gentleman’s face reddened. “I’ll talk to your father about that.”
