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“I get about,” Jemima said, laying down the hairpins. “And your reply to my sally implied as much.”
“Miss O’Mara’s choice of lover is up to her, of course,” Felicity placated.
“As is my choice of trousers.”
Jemima lifted garments out of boxes. “But if only you would allow me to fit you for one of those split skirts?”
“I choose not to, thank you,” O’Mara continued, polite and calm. “I am comfortable as I am.”
“And I unreservedly vouch for trousers,” said Felicity.
“But not today.” Jemima smiled.
“No, not today.” She turned and regarded thehabillementsdraping every surface in the dressing room. “I cannot comprehend how you managed to produce all this in so little time.”
“I have yet to see Lady Coleman quail from a challenge.” O’Mara smirked.
“When needs must, I am quite swift,” Jemima added, and the two of them roared with laughter.
“I feel rather left out of the joke,” Felicity admitted once they had subsided.
Jemima and O’Mara exchanged a portentous look. The former set her jaw, and the latter made a sound not unlike Delilah when she was irritated. The stalemate drew out until O’Mara shrugged and said, “It is your affair. Her Grace has been apprised of the laws of our kind.”
“Your kind?” Felicity gaped at her friend, who appeared chagrined.
“I am a dove, Felicity,” she admitted.
“A dove?” Didversipellescomprise the majority of the English population?
“Hence the avian puns,” O’Mara said.
“It is not my intention to take the shine off your day,” Jemima began.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Felicity scolded. “I am grateful you shared this knowledge with me, as I am awareversipelleshold it dear. Now I need not censor myself in your presence, and for that, I am also grateful.” Jemima allowed a very careful embrace in deference to her coiffure, and a tear or two was shed.
“Now.” Jemima sniffled into one of her ever-present but well-concealed hankies and went to fetch the bridal gown. “There is no bonnet as I believe His Grace wishes you to be crowned with your tiara once the vows are taken.”
Felicity opened her mouth to protest, but why should she bother at this late stage? “What will the officiant think?”
“I wouldn’t worry about him.” O’Mara rose to help Jemima with the dress.
Oh, the dress. It boasted the off-the-shoulder neckline that suited her so well; made of heavy satin, it glowed like the interior of a shell, sometimes showing pink, sometimes showing silver, sometimes showing cream tones that glistened in the sunshine. As it settled down around her body and Jemima fussed it into place, Felicity saw thousands of glittering beads sewn around the waist, which decreased as they drifted to the hem. The skirt was form-fitting, hugging her hips and curving in toward her knees and out again at her feet to reveal a froth of organza. Behind, a bell-shaped overskirt spread around her, the lining of it a darker silver, with a few layers of organza tucked in for good measure.
“You are as Venus rising from the scallop shell,” O’Mara said.
“A fitting propitiation,” Jemima muttered as she fluffed out the overskirt.
Felicity regarded herself in the pier glass. She doubted she had ever missed her mother more—and her father as well, for the first time having an inkling of how dreadful the loss of his beloved wife had been for him. Her hands shook as she smoothed them over the soft satin at her décolletage. O’Mara touched her on the elbow.
“They are both here with you today,” she said. “I promise this is true. They could not be happier for you, nor prouder, nor could they imagine any woman in the world more fit for the part you are about to play in this world.”
“Miss O’Mara, if I am to set the tone, then I am Felicity, and I would be honored did you call me thus when we are private.”
“I am O’Mara, Your Grace,” she said, shaking her head. “And that is how it shall be unless I desire my throat torn from my neck by His Grace.”
“My thanks for such pleasant imagery.” She looked over her shoulder to admire the back of her gown and saw Jemima had a familiar jewelry box in her hands. Felicity’s breath caught, and she could almost hear her mother’s voice in her ear as she showed her the beautiful parure that her father had gifted his bride on their wedding day. She nodded, and Jemima revealed the very set, a delicate tracery of diamonds set in pale gold, the necklace as light as a spider’s web, the earrings clusters of diamonds from which hung perfect pearls.
“Mr. Bates said this will be an astonishing match to the Lowell tiara,” Jemima said, blushing.
