She would get no sympathy from him. Not until he knew exactly what part she played in Mr. Smith’s betrayal.
Not until she proved she wasn’t just another beautifully constructed lie.
Theodosia stirred as the quiet click of the bedchamber door roused her from sleep. Blinking against the fading daylight spilling in through the tall windows, she sat upright just as a young blonde maid stepped inside, a pale green gown draped neatly over her arm.
“Good evening, Miss,” the maid greeted with a brightness that bordered on overenthusiasm. “I’ve been sent to help you dress for dinner.”
Theodosia rubbed the sleep from her eyes and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “But I haven’t anything appropriate to wear.”
The maid lifted the gown slightly. “You’ll be wearing this,” she said with a little flourish. “Lady Olivia chose it herself.”
Rising to her feet, Theodosia padded across the room, her stockinged feet silent against the thick carpet. She reached out to touch the gown and felt her breath hitch. The dress was exquisite. It was soft green muslin with a white net overlay delicately embroidered along the hem and sleeves.
“This is lovely,” she murmured. It was far lovelier than anything she’d ever owned.
The maid beamed with satisfaction. “Lady Olivia thought it would suit your complexion, and I must agree. The green sets off your eyes beautifully.”
Theodosia glanced down at her travel-worn habit, suddenly conscious of how coarse the fabric felt against her skin compared to the fine gown.
If the maid noticed her unease, she gave no sign of it. She crossed to the bed and laid the gown out with care. “Now, shall we begin with your hair?”
“I can manage it on my own,” Theodosia said.
“I don’t doubt it,” the maid replied. “But I’m rather skilled at more elaborate styles, and I’d rather not be scolded for ignoring Lady Wilton’s instructions.”
Reluctantly, Theodosia relented and made her way to the dressing table, settling into the cushioned chair. “I would hate for you to get into trouble on my account.”
“Thank you,” the maid said, retrieving a silver-handled brush from the vanity and beginning to work it gently through her hair.
As the first strokes smoothed over her scalp, Theodosia caught the maid’s reflection in the looking glass. “May I ask your name?”
“It’s Mary, Miss.”
The curt reply hinted that Mary wasn’t fond of idle chatter, but Theodosia’s curiosity refused to be quelled. She had far too many questions swirling in her mind.
“What is dinner like here?” she asked.
“Formal,” Mary replied, her focus never wavering. “Though I imagine you’re quite used to that.”
Theodosia gave a soft laugh. “Not exactly. At home, I usually ate in the kitchen with our cook and housekeeper.”
Mary paused, clearly surprised. “But aren’t you the daughter of a baronet?”
“I am,” she admitted. “But dining alone seemed… needlessly grand. I preferred the company.”
Mary gave a cautious hum of acknowledgment. “That’s… rather unusual.”
Theodosia tilted her head. “What is Lady Olivia like?”
Mary set the brush aside and began deftly pinning her hair. “She’s spirited,” she said carefully. “Lively, intelligent… and accustomed to her independence.”
“Does she even want a companion?”
There was a long pause before Mary answered. “It’s not my place to say.”
“I promise, anything you share will stay between us,” Theodosia offered.
Mary shook her head. “That’s kind, but I’ve no wish to be known as a gossip.” Then, after a moment, she added in a low voice, “But I will say this—Lady Olivia was rather surprised by her brother’s decision.”
