“Nor have I,” Theodosia replied, her voice light withanticipation. “And I find myself quite eager to see it with my own eyes.”
Mary twisted her hair into an elegant chignon. “You must tell me all about the pavilions when you return. And the orchestra. I heard once that the Prince Regent himself was spotted there.”
“I shall try to recall every detail,” Theodosia promised. “Though I suspect my thoughts will be too scattered to retain much.”
Once her hair had been intricately arranged, Theodosia stood and slipped out of her gown. Meanwhile, the maid fetched her new blue gown and held it out to her. She accepted it and stepped into it.
The process of fastening the back began—button by button, each one tugged and secured with care. As Mary worked, Theodosia ran a slow hand down the front of the gown, smoothing the muslin against her figure.
Her eyes lingered on her reflection in the looking glass. A strange flutter stirred within her chest. Would Lord Wilton approve? Would there be a flicker of admiration in his gaze when he saw her? And why, in all reason, did that matter?
She bit the inside of her cheek.It doesn’t matter,she told herself firmly.I wear this because I like it. Because I feel confident in it. Not because of him.
Mary gave the final button a firm press and stepped back, inspecting her handiwork with a nod of satisfaction. “There. That was the last one.”
Theodosia turned slowly to face her. “Thank you, Mary,” she said, offering a grateful smile. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Mary’s expression softened. “That is the job of any good maid, Miss.”
With one last glance in the looking glass, Theodosiastraightened her posture and reached for her gloves. She was ready, at least outwardly. But within, her heart still beat a little faster than usual.
Vauxhall Gardens awaited. And so did he.
