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“That is indeed very kind,” she managed to say, but he thought that the grip she was maintaining on his hand would break his bones. He felt it wise to get her out of the room and so he stood up.
“If that is all…?”
Wellington looked a bit surprised by his abruptness but soon got his expression under control. “Yes, of course.”
“Very well. We have much to do before the day.”
“I shall send Lady Fiennes along soon.”
Bertram bowed stiffly. “Your servant.”
Without awaiting further dismissal, he dragged Letty from there as fast as he could. As soon as they were walking down the corridor she turned on him.
“Does he think I cannot dress myself?” she practically growled.
Bertram bit his lip so as not to laugh. “No, no, of course not. He is simply concerned for your welfare. Do not take these things so personally.”
“Do not take itpersonally?” Her voice was both higher and louder.
He stopped with a sigh, turning to face her. “Letty, I am quite sure you’re used to senior officers being dismissive of you. Can you not think of His Grace as just another one of those?”
She shook her head mutinously, crossing her arms and pouting.
He grasped her arms, letting entreaty show in his eyes. “Please?”
She blinked at him a few times before slowly nodding her head. “All right. If you say so.”
He leaned in, pressing his lips gently to hers. “Thank you. Now, do you not have an appointment with yourmodiste?”
She grimaced and he suppressed his amusement. “She always pokes pins in me!”
Bertram laughed. “Well, I suggest you tell her to stop.”
Letty huffed. “You have no understanding of women!” she declared before storming off. Bertram watched her go, biting his lips to keep from bursting into laughter. He realized that that curious bubbling sensation in his chest was happiness. He’d been feeling it for a while but only just recognized what it was. He shook his head, before climbing the stairs to his chambers. He had his own appointment with a tailor soon and he needed to prepare for it.
* * *
Letty stood on the balcony, opera glasses to her eyes, feeling like a cross between a mythical princess and a prisoner. The man who Wellington had assigned to act as her liaison treated her with a hostility she didn’t understand. He stood at attention, slightly behind her as if to block her access to escape. As he’d handed her the glasses, his lip had curled with disdain even as his eyes cut down briefly to the décolletage of her bright red gown.
According to her looking glass and the very enthusiastic Lady Fiennes, she was a vision in scarlet. The contrast with her pale skin, the deep vee of her neckline plumping up her already voluptuous breasts like ripe melons, her dark brown hair swept up with wispy tendrils brushing her face and cinched with a jeweled comb, all combined to make her practically irresistible.
Those were lady Fiennes’ words, at least. So she really wondered why this soldier should be viewing her with such contempt.
Did I do something to him?
She could not see how, since they’d just met.
Even as her mind churned, she skimmed the arriving crowds below, looking for a familiar face. The entrance was well-lit with torches for just this very purpose. Most of the guests were unfamiliar to her and by their haughty demeanors, she had to conclude that they were noble men and women. She was not looking forward to mingling with them.
A few who gentlemen moved a little more stiffly and those, she concluded, were military. She paid closer attention to them because they were more likely to be the men she was looking for.
Soon her shoulders began to ache from holding the opera glasses up for so long but she did not relent. Suddenly she stiffened as she saw two men approach. They wore dark coats and one was much shorter than the other. She watched them come, wondering if she was looking at her plotters. She would not know for sure until she heard them speak but hope leapt in her breast.
The faster they caught the people responsible, the better for her. She would be able to relax and think about the next step. When there was nothing standing between them, she would be able to find out if Bertram wanted to marry her for herself, finally.
There was a step behind her and she turned to see the man himself, resplendent in full military regalia. Her eyes widened in appreciation. “Oh…” she whispered.
He smiled, bowing to her. “I thank you for the compliment. May I say that you look breathtaking as well.”
