Yet Grace remained complacent. She had ensured that Betty helped Mrs Merriweather and Heather first and only attended to her afterwards. She spent the morning in the library with a cup of tea, deliberately placing herself in plain sight rather than retreating to an alcove. She preferred this room, far removed from the chaos of the house. So engrossed was she in her book that she failed to notice the sun lowering in the sky. Her immersion broke only when the door opened, and Holden walked in, clearly expecting the room to be empty.
He started. ‘Oh! Miss Skye, I wasn’t expecting to find you still here. Pardon me, Miss, but are you not going to attend the ball this evening?’
Grace blinked, her eyes unfocused from reading so long. Glancing at the clock, she leapt to her feet. ‘I did not realise the time! Oh dear, I must get ready!’ And with that, she fled the room in a flurry.
Betty looked harried, but Heather was resplendent in her white debutante gown, her hair piled high with an eleganttwist of pearls. Her eyes were bright, and colour tinged her cheeks. She looked beautiful but so transformed that she hardly resembled the sister Grace had always known.
Leaning against the door, Grace simply stared at her baby sister, tears welling in her eyes. ‘Mother and Father would be so proud of you, Heather. As am I. You look like a shining angel.’
Heather blushed, enhancing her beauty further. Mrs Merriweather, dressed respectably in lilac, was helping Betty when both suddenly turned and gasped in horror.
‘Oh no!’ Mrs Merriweather cried.
Betty clutched her apron. ‘I am so sorry, Miss Grace! We completely forgot to call you up. We were so caught up in taming Miss Heather’s hair that we did not realise the time. What will we do? There’s barely any time left!’
A knock sounded at the door. Lady Elizabeth entered, looking concerned. ‘Holden just informed me that you are not yet ready, Grace. Are you unwell, dear?’
Grace laughed. ‘Stop fretting, everyone, I shall be fine. I will do a simple style to my hair and wear one of my old gowns, since the new one has not arrived.’
Everyone gasped, and Lady Elizabeth looked flummoxed. ‘Simple? Old gown? Certainly not! Your gown was just brought to my chambers—it was mislaid by the servants. I shall send my maid to your room. Betty, finish with Heather, then join my maid in dressing Grace. We shall turn you out in great style, my dear!’
Swept up by Lady Elizabeth’s orders, Grace had little choice. With no time to protest, she was scrubbed, brushed, pulled, and generally manhandled into readiness. By the time the hot iron curler completed its work, she felt somewhat resentful of the complete disregard for her personal space—and slightly dizzy.
When she finally gazed into the mirror, she barely recognised herself. The cerulean blue gown, embroidered intricately withsilver over the bodice, and her hair swept up with artful curls draped over one shoulder—she looked stunning.
Elizabeth entered, beaming. ‘Ah, Grace, you look beautiful!’ She carried a box, which she handed to the maids. ‘I thought this might suit.’ She opened it and took out an elegant diamond necklace, fastening it around Grace’s neck.
Mrs Merriweather and Heather were speechless at the transformation. Teary-eyed, Betty waved her handkerchief in delight at the maid’s success.
As the ladies descended to the drawing room, where the gentlemen waited, compliments poured in—though Lord Edward’s were particularly extravagant, and he annoyingly hovered at Grace’s side. But her attention was elsewhere. Grace’s eyes sought the Duke before she could stop herself. And when she found him—standing across the room, his gaze locked onto her—it was as though the air itself had thickened.
His stare was unreadable, dark... assessing. A slow heat coiled in her stomach, unexpected and disarming. She swallowed as his gaze flickered—just briefly—to the expanse of skin left bare by her gown. A wave of pure excitement sent her heart into a wild staccato. As if to shield herself, she raised her hand to her décolletage, fingertips grazing the diamond necklace Lady Elizabeth had lent her. It was a foolishly transparent move. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, as if he knew precisely what she was doing. Grace turned sharply, the heat in her cheeks burning brighter. She wanted to flee upstairs.
Instead, she settled for trying to ignore his gaze, forcing a smile onto her face as she joined the family to greet the guests. However, the Duke’s expression grew more brooding by the minute. Despite standing next to him for half an hour, he never once spoke to her.
Her irritation grew into indignation. Why should she be bothered by his silence? She would enjoy the evening, she decided. She would not let his rudeness ruin her mood.
She was pleased to see Heather enjoying herself. Her sister’s dance card filled within half an hour, and the evening proceeded smoothly—until Charles arrived with a group of his ‘friends’. He did not recognise Grace at first, staring at her in disbelief.
‘C-c-cousin Grace!’ he stammered, blinking as if she were an apparition. ‘Why...You look so altered. I hardly recognised you.’
Heather could not suppress a giggle, which Grace hastily hushed.
‘I did not realise you were in London. What brings you here?’ he asked bluntly.
‘I am here to chaperone Heather. She is under Lord Armitage’s sponsorship,’ Grace replied, watching with satisfaction as Charles’s face twisted in displeasure.
‘I wonder what favours you...’ he trailed off, suddenly paling. ‘Your Grace,’ he murmured, dropping into a low bow.
‘I hope, for your sake, you were not disrespecting my guests, Mr Skye,’ the Duke drawled as he now stood behind Grace.
‘Dis—dis—’ Charles stammered, his face awash with sweat. ‘No, no, Your Grace, of course not. I would never dream of it,’ he blurted, sinking into another exaggerated bow.
‘I have heard of your treatment of your cousins,’ the Duke continued, his voice low and chilling. ‘You should be ashamed, sir. I dare say you will regret your actions. The Skye sisters are under the care of the house of Armitage. Keep away from them unless you wish to answer to me. From now on, you will show them the utmost respect. Do I make myself clear?’
Charles did not need to be told twice.
‘I sent you a letter asking you a question, cousin,’ Grace added smoothly, watching as Charles squirmed under her scrutiny.
