AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Husbands. The word made Isabel shiver. She wasn’t sure if she could get used to it.
Arnaud began to work her magic, and soon she had Isabel’s curling hair into further curls about her face, thick ringlets brushing her shoulders while the longer lengths were pinned to her head. How she managed this, Isabel had no idea. She certainly couldn’t do it.
She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the reflection. It was like a stranger was looking back at her. Isabel didn’t know what to make of that, except she felt like she was putting a mask on. If gentlemen had to see the mask, what were they going to say when the mask was off? Isabel didn’t think she wanted to know, but it wouldn’t be favourable.
“There we go, Miss Moore.” Arnaud pinned the last curl in place and beamed at her handiwork. “You are ready to go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. You’ll be turning many heads tonight.”
Isabel didn’t know about that. A churning had started in her stomach when she entered the bedroom earlier, and she felt like she was going to be sick. If she stood up, she was worried about keeling over. But she managed to get to her feet and pressed her shaking hands to her belly. It didn’t stop the churning.
She didn’t think she could do this. She was sure that she was going to make a fool of herself tonight. Her upbringing in scientific lessons and anything that was unladylike was looking more and more attractive. Isabel was not cut out for polite Society, no matter what everyone said.
She wanted to push Arnaud out of the room, lock the door, and refuse to come out. But she couldn’t. This had to happen.
Just a couple of hours. Focus on that. A couple of hours, and then you can go home. That’s what you were promised. You can’t get into trouble in that time, can you?
I’ll be in trouble as soon as I walk through the door. Knowing my luck, I’ll trip over my skirts going in.
Isabel pushed that worry aside and left her room. Voices were coming from the morning room, one loud laugh ringing out. Lady Blythcourt was here. Isabel hadn’t heard them come in.
Taking slow breaths, she managed to get downstairs and headed into the room. Her mother was dressed in a grand gown in pale pink, looking younger and fresher than Isabel had seen her, Lady Blythcourt was clad in yellow, and Lady Hester was in simple pale grey. They all looked magnificent.
Isabel felt plain compared to them.
Everyone turned as she came in, and Lady Blythcourt beamed.
“You are so charming, Isabel! I can see you being an eye-catcher tonight.” She tapped her cheek. “You’re not wearing any powder, though.”
“Do you want me to be sneezing all evening, My Lady? Because it doesn’t help.”
The older woman pursed her lips.
“I suppose it’ll have to do. Your skin is smooth enough that you can get away with it. But you will need to start wearing it eventually. It’s to make sure you have the beautifully clear, pale face that gentlemen love.”
Isabel bit back a retort. If the nobility didn’t find out about her freckles now, they would feel cheated later on. That’s what she was telling herself. She would rather go in with her real face than a fake one.
“Right.” Lady Blythcourt beckoned Lady Hester to get up and tugged Lady Dunley to her feet. “Shall we go? I have a feeling we’re going to be quite a spectacle tonight.”
#
“Well!” Lady Dunley said as Isabel sat down heavily in the dining hall. “You’ve certainly been a spectacle. And in a good way, too!”
“She certainly has!” Lady Blythcourt beamed. “Those lessons are really paying off. I’m so glad this has gone well for you.”
Isabel managed a smile, but she was too exhausted to feel elated. As soon as she entered the room, she had been swept up with everything going on. The first thing that had happened was her dance cards had been shoved into her hand, along with a pencil.
Lady Blythcourt had told her different balls had different ways of marking dance cards, and this time they were to be attached to her wrist by a ribbon, and gentlemen would come up to mark her card. It felt very heavy on her right wrist, and Isabel had felt a little self-conscious with people coming up to her asking to save a dance.
And there had been a lot of gentlemen. Isabel didn’t know what to think of it. They seemed to keep turning up, introducing themselves, and asking for a dance. Isabel was glad they were writing because her hands were still shaking.
She leaned over and took off her shoe to rub her foot. Lady Blythcourt gasped.
“Isabel! Will you put your shoe back on?”
“I can’t help it, cousin. My feet are really hurting.” Isabel massaged her toes, trying to ignore the sensation that felt like two of her toes were crossing over. “I’m going to have problems walking in the morning, I’m sure of it.”
