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There was no point in staring into the wardrobe. She owned only one dress that could possibly be worn to the Cains’ reception. Though it was modest and staid like the rest of her gowns, the material set it apart—a dark aquamarine silk that seemed to cast shadows upon itself when she moved. She ran a hand over the lovely fabric and felt a thrill course along her spine.
Silly, she supposed. She’d once worn gowns of silk and lace and fabrics shot through with silver. But this was a new time, a new place, and this dress made her happy.
She refastened her hair into a roll at the base of her neck and studied her own face in the mirror. What did Aidan see when he looked at her? She traced one finger over her cheekbone and the tiny scar that still lingered. Her face was thinner, certainly. She thought she looked tired, but perhaps the slight hollows in her cheeks sculpted her into a mysterious beauty.
She smiled at that, and though her smile was slightly marred by the small pucker of the scar, it was a real smile. The sight of it set her eyes sparkling. She was no beauty now, if she ever had been, but she was free. And despite all her brave thoughts of living a solitary existence, she was excited about the party. And she was trying very hard not to be excited about her suspicion that he might be there. She’d been on pins and needles all day, waiting for him to step into her shop. He hadn’t, and her suspicion was growing into a knot in her stomach.
“Mrs. Hamilton?” a tentative voice echoed from downstairs.
“I’m here!” she called back. Lucy’s maid hurried up the stairs.
Before Kate could finish thanking her for her troubles, the short, round maid was tugging Kate’s corset strings with brutal strength.
“I’d say we can get another two inches off that waist, missus.”
Kate put an alarmed hand to her stomach. “I don’t think that’s—” But she watched in amazement as the tightening stays pushed her breasts higher. Her fingers slid up to hover over the pale skin of her bosom. When she dared a breath in, the mounds of her breasts swelled. “Oh,” she breathed.
Did she still have this body? Was she still a woman beneath all her ghosts and memories? How very strange.
“There we are,” the maid muttered. “Lovely.”
The maid swept the dress over Kate’s head, briefly turning her world into hills and folds of twilight seas. Wanting to hold on to the moment, Kate closed her eyes and did not open them until every tie had been tied and every hook fastened. When she opened them, she saw a stranger in the mirror. A slim and regal woman whose face showed false depths of peace and confidence.
She realized then that she needn’t have worried she’d be recognized and connected to her parents or her departed husband. There was nothing of the rosy-cheeked optimist she’d been as a girl. And she was no longer the dull-eyed wraith she’d become in Ceylon. Not quite.
“Are ye ready then?” the maid asked.
Kate nodded. “I’ll be down in a moment.”
The bodice didn’t dip low, but with the corset tightened so expertly, the barest hint of rounded bosom was visible above the neckline. Kate traced the pads of her fingers over her skin, amazed that she could look so feminine.
She had sold all her jewelry, so she didn’t even have a brooch to pin to her dress, much less a pendant to draw the eye to her skin. But for the first time in years, she touched the barest hint of rouge to her cheeks and lips before retrieving her slippers and cloak.
By the time the coach stopped in front of the Cain house, Kate was shaking with nervous excitement. After she handed her cloak to a footman, she clutched her reticule tightly between her hands and looked around. A thrill spiraled through her at the sight of dozens of elegantly dressed people.
In Ceylon there had been parties, but David had never taken her. A few women had stopped by the plantation upon her arrival, wanting to know who she was and what news she had from England, like vultures picking at the carcass of her lost life. But David had sent them away.
Eventually, they’d left her alone.
The sound of bright laughter distracted her from her memories, and she looked up to see Lucy Cain hurrying over. Her red curls were piled high atop her head, and an emerald green dress showed off skin as pale as untouched snow.
Kate closed her eyes as the girl hugged her. “You look so beautiful, Lucy.”
“And you are lovely, Kate. So pretty. If your handsome gentleman is here, he will prostrate himself at your feet in worship! What is his name?”
“Have we begun to gossip so soon?”
“It is always time for gossip, silly.”
“Well,” Kate murmured, “he is not my gentleman, as you know. I have no idea whether he’ll be here or not.”
“If he is, may I borrow him for a turn about the gardens? As he seems to belong to no one.”
Kate kept her smile bright as she answered. “Of course you may. Though I cannot say whether he belongs to someone or not. He’s merely a business associate. Now tell me all the other gossip. I am a blank page, you know. Fill me up.”
Lucy’s eyes blazed with joy as she took Kate’s arm and swung her around. “Splendid. Let’s see who is here.”
Half an hour later, Lucy was in the middle of the scandal of Mrs. Mortimer—who married her husband’s apprentice before Mr. Mortimer was even cold in his grave—when Kate found her eyes drifting. When she spotted Aidan York watching her from the doorway of the parlor, she didn’t feel even a twitch of surprise.
