Her dear girl was in front of the looking glass, having made significant headway on her hair. A marvelous dress of dark blue silk lay on the bed.
If Lady Marchfield had done anything helpful at all, it was to arrange a wardrobe for her niece. She’d had it all composed ahead of time and then a modiste turned up with six assistants to take in the dresses to fit.
“My girl, you look very well.”
Felicity smiled into the glass. “I hope that is true, Mrs. Right, but I cannot be sure—you have always praised all of us to high heaven.”
“And why should I not?”
She really meant it too. Felicity had piles of rich brown hair, streaked with the color of late honey due to her habit of leaving her bonnet behind all summer. Her large brown eyes were as soft as a doe’s. Her delicate features belied her nickname—Ferocity. One first looking at her must conclude she was a modest and careful young lady. One who crossed her would find out otherwise. She was entirely perfect.
“I cannot imagine what this evening will be like,” Felicity said.
“Aye, I heard the whole palaver about it between your father and Lady Marching Orders,” Mrs. Right said.
They were to attend Almack’s and it had been an anxious two days for Lady Marchfield, waiting for the vouchers. At one moment she was certain they would come, and then the next she was despairing of it. It all seemed to hinge on whether the patronesses would have any recollection of the duke. Lady Marchfield was praying that they would not. If they did, she said, all was lost—nobody who’d ever met her brother ever went out of their way to do so again.
The duke, on the other hand, could not at first recall anything about Almack’s. When the vouchers arrived, he was reminded of several sojourns there and claimed he would not go. Why should a duke put up with that gaggle of clucking hens?
Lady Marchfield explained that it was absolutely essential to Felicity’s success. The duke had considered that information and then said, “Well, if it will get her out of my house and into some young fool’s house, then I suppose I’ll have to put up with it.”
“This is my first real venture out in Town and I am determined to enjoy it,” Felicity said. “After all, who knows who I will meet there?”
Mrs. Right put the finishing touches on Felicity’s hair. “Aye, it’s both happy and sad for me. You’re set to take your rightful place in society, I can’t be against it. But then, you’ll wed some fella and when will we ever see you?”
“Oh I imagine I could talk my husband round to visiting often,” Felicity said.
“We are rather remote—the Dales are not for everyone, alas,” Mrs. Right said.
“I am beginning to think, considering what I’ve heard my aunt say, that Papa is not for everyone either.”
“No, he certainly is not,” Mrs. Right said.
“Any gentleman wishing to approach me must express a regard for my father.”
“Quite right,” the housekeeper said. “If a gentleman cannot even be counted upon to pretend at a regard for a girl’s father, what is he even worth?”
“Do you suppose he’d have to pretend?” Felicity asked.
“Probably. Young gentlemen can be surprisingly persnickety and not likely to take a joke. They get their backs up, you see. It’s the youth in them—trying to be manly and ever on the watch for any perceived slight.”
“Hmmm. Papa does like to sling round a slight or two. But really, if other people knew him as we do… if even my aunt understood him as we do. He really is a dear, if one digs down deep enough. Very deep, naturally.”
“Very, very deep,” Mrs. Right said.
The door burst open, and six sisters piled through it.
Predictably, Grace did not make it far. Fortunately, she fell on the bed and was very clever at lending the operation a certain panache, as if it were done on purpose. Mrs. Right had high hopes the girl would become better acquainted with her feet before her own season.
Patience and Serenity pushed at each other, each wishing to be first. Verity examined her sister’s dress knowingly and said, “Exactly how I pictured it.”
Winsome stared at Verity with her usual suspicious mien. Verity was forever claiming to know things and Winsome was forever arguing that she did not.
Valor yawned, as she really ought to be abed.
“I do hope you dance with all sorts of handsome gentlemen, Felicity,” Grace said.
“And you will tell us all about it over breakfast,” Patience said. “We ought to get up very early, there is no reason to lie around in bed. Or you could even wake us up when you come in.”
