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The Countess’ Secret
Prologue
Rosaline
Buckinghamshire, 1815.
“Oh, if only I could be still,” Rosaline murmured to herself as she bobbed on her toes. It was a nervous habit of hers, constantly moving, as if dancing, though she prayed some of the action was hidden by the grand gown she was wearing tonight.
Casting a glance down at her dress, Rosaline breathed in deeply, laying her fingers to the gossamer thin layers of the skirt. It was quite stunning, in every way.
Never did I think I would be so fortunate to wear a gown like this.
The gown was ivory white, with a thin lace over the skirt falling down from the high waist under the bust. Along this same seam were dark red accents with bold thread. Circling her body, the red thread stood out, complimenting the color of her hair, as it wound its way up the chest line in a rose pattern and culminated in tufts of red at the shoulders.
“At this rate, you’ll be exhausted before any man can ask you to dance.” The witty words of Chloe, Miss Green, earned Rosaline’s attention. She turned around in the ballroom to greet her friend with a smile.
“Oh, Chloe. I should not be here!” Rosaline said in a hasty whisper.
“Whyever not?” Chloe took her arm and purposefully drew her forward, across the ballroom.
“This is the opposite direction of where I was going…”
“You thought I had not noticed you were hiding in a corner?” Chloe aske with a smile. “Well, you will not be permitted to hide anymore.
“It is not that I was hiding, merely observing. I never thoughtIwould be so fortunate to see an event like this. It is quite wondrous,” Rosaline gushed, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as they passed punch bowls full of glistening red punch topped with crystallized oranges. “From the smallest detail to the grandest spectacle, oh…what a sight this is!”
Rosaline smiled as her eyes cast around the ballroom. To their left, the dancers took to the dancefloor, each one smiling and hopping to the happy tune of the cotillion that was playing. Ladies’ heads trussed with feathers or pearls turned back and forth, as gentlemen sweated a little in the heat of the room, occasionally patting their black tailcoats with the palms of their hands in the hope their perspiration would not be noticed. Tables were full of crystal glasses, some stacked high in amazing displays. One stack even resembled a swan, around which, a multitude of ladies stood together, whispering into one another’s ears.
“I have walked into a dream, Chloe,” Rosaline whispered.
“I know what you mean.” Chloe sighed. “Never did I think I would be so fortunate as to see my designs here.”
“You deserve it.” Rosaline squeezed her friend’s hand in comfort, and thought of how far Chloe had come.
Born to a Baron, but one that had fallen from fortune, Chloe did not have the money to her name that many ladies had here. Yet, that did not discourage her. Working with her own wits, she was quite the seamstress and designer, and was hoping to open a modiste’s shop in town. Tonight was the announcement of her designs to the ton, and so far, it was going well. Many ladies stared and longed to know just who had designed these dresses.
Rosaline wore one such design, along with two other seamstresses, just like her. Chloe wore a fourth, and finally, the fifth and finest gown was worn by their hostess for the evening, the Duchess of Suffolk, a great friend to Chloe.
Self-consciously, Rosaline looked between herself and the other ladies in the room, just as the Duchess walked past, not far in the distance. Ladies followed in her wake, eager to know the designer of the Duchess’ gown.
I truly do not belong here. Who would invite a seamstress to an event of the ton?
“Now, no more hiding,” Chloe pleaded in Rosaline’s ear. “Let us circle for a while, so people can see your gown, and…” She paused, evidently seeing that Rosaline’s eyes had trailed away.
Rosaline kept looking toward the dancefloor, finding the ideas of her heart running away with her.
