Page 80 of The Governess and the Rogue

Kate reminded him anyway. “Mama and Papa are arriving tomorrow. They should be here just in time for the opening of the ball. And if you think James and Ivo and I are alert to your larks, you should know that Mama and Papa have not lost a step, even though they are old, the dears.”

Jack’s mother and father were in their late sixties. It was old, Jack conceded, but their enduring love for each other, along with a lifetime of physical activity, had kept them strong in body and young at heart.

“I’m not afraid of our parents,” Jack said. “They accepted Meg into the family, didn’t they? If they’ll welcome her, they’ll welcome anyone I choose.”

“But Jack…” Kate searched his face. “Did you choose Miss Layton?”

Jack thought of that night on the deck of the Pera when he’d first revealed his presence to Bea as she’d been staring up at the stars. No one had made him do it. He had acted of his own accord. He’d been drawn to her even then.

He gave his sister a solemn smile. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

* * *

Bea stood in front the cheval mirror in her bedchamber as her borrowed French lady’s maid put the finishing touches on her evening ensemble. The elegant creature who stared back at Bea in the glass might as well have been a stranger. She scarcely recognized herself in her fashionable gown of amber-colored silk glacé, with its daringly low-cut neckline and its three skirts trimmed in matching amber lace.

It had been one of Hannah’s. One she’d ordered that had yet to be completed. The village dressmaker had modified it for Bea, shortening the hem and taking in the bodice. It was the only way a ball gown could be finished in so short a time.

That it hadn’t originally been made for Bea scarcely mattered in the end. It was the finest garment she’d ever worn, and by far the most flattering.

There was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Bea called.

The door opened a crack. Meg peeked inside. “M-May I come in?”

“Please,” Bea said.

Meg entered, closing the door behind her. She was already in her ball gown—an airy confection of pink gauze and lace. An opal-and-diamond brooch glittered at the neck of her bodice. “I came to see if there was anything you require?”

“Oh no,” Bea said. “And you’ve already done so much, lending me your maid.”

Meg smiled. “Is she n-nearly ready, Louise?”

Louise gave one final adjustment to the slim, amber silk covered belt at Bea’s waist. “All finished, madame.”

“Excellent, Louise. You m-may go.”

“Thank you,” Bea said to the maid as she withdrew. “Your mistress spoke truly. You have performed wonders.”

Louise curtsied to both ladies before departing.

Meg stepped back to admire Bea. “The color suits you,” she said. “So does the dress. You look beautiful in it.”

Bea wouldn’t go that far. Pretty, she’d have called herself. And to someone who had felt plain all of her life, to be pretty was no small thing. “You’re very kind,” she said. “Am I the last one down? I’m sorry if I’ve taken too long.”

She’d had a late start getting ready. Around the Beresfords, time was a commodity in very short supply. There was always something afoot—another game, another outing, another unplanned romp with the children. Over the past several days, Bea had had little time to herself. Indeed, most nights she’d scarcely been able to make her wish on the evening star, let alone write in her journal, before falling into her bed exhausted.

Pearl would be amused. She’d often remarked that Bea spent more time documenting her life than actually living it. But not now. Not during Bea’s brief idyll with Jack in Somerset. However short, this had been time for living.

“Not at all,” Meg said. “Your timing is perfect. Lord and Lady Allendale have just arrived.”

Bea started. “Oh!” She turned from the mirror, skirts swishing about her legs. “Should I go down now? Or⁠—”

“No need,” Meg said. “You can m-meet them at the ball.”

Bea pressed a hand to her midriff. For a moment, her courage failed her. She could scarcely justify lying to Jack’s siblings as it was. But to lie to his parents? An actual earl and his countess?

“They’d expected to arrive earlier in the day,” Meg explained. “But their t-train was delayed. They went straight to their room to change. Kate and Ivo have already gone in to speak with them. And St. Clare, I presume. I don’t know about Jack. I haven’t seen him since our game of croquet on the lawn.”