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“Among others. He’s taking me to a party held by Lord and Lady Elsmere. He says if anyone is involved in the organization, they are, and it’s as good a starting place as any. Maybe they’ll let something drop about their plans for the solstice. Maybe we’ll discover other members of their foul group. At least it’s a start. ”
“I see. ” Emma took a step back, surveying her. “So you’re going into society on Rohan’s arm tonight. What will you wear?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” she lied, pushing her loose hair away from her face. “I must have something left from my season. ”
“Jesus God,” Emma muttered. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. ” And suddenly she raised her voice. “Girls! We have a project!”
Author: Anne Stuart
The gaggle appeared, as if they’d been eavesdropping just out of sight, which Melisande suspected they had been. That was another thing she could blame on Benedick Rohan. The term “gaggle” had been so accurate for her recalcitrant, squabbling brood that no matter how she tried she couldn’t think of them in any other terms. Not that a gaggle should live in a dovecote—she knew perfectly well her house had received that sobriquet, just as she was called Charity Carstairs behind her back. She had no idea where geese tended to reside, but she hoped Rohan didn’t share his fitting term for her soiled doves. She had trouble enough being taken seriously.
The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. She found herself drawn into the small salon where the girls practiced deportment, surrounded by a bevy of chattering females. Trunks appeared from storage, gowns tossed here and there.
“No, that yellow is atrocious. ” Emma dismissed one outmoded ball gown that Violet held up. “It would make her too sallow. She needs something of a soft rose. ”
“Rose wasn’t in fashion the year I made my debut,” Melisande protested, but she was ignored as Emma took charge.
“Betsey, order a bath for Lady Carstairs. She’ll need a good soak, an application of Cowper’s Milk to try to make her skin more fashionably pale. You should have known better than to have gone out in the bright sunlight without a parasol. Even the best bonnet cannot shield one entirely from the sun. ”
“I’m sorry,” Melisande said meekly.
“Never mind. We’ll work with what we have. ”
“I’m good at arranging hair,” Agnes, a bright redhead by way of Ireland and the streets of White-chapel, offered. “She’ll need something better than that awful lace cap she wears. ”
“I’m a widow!” Melisande protested.
“She will, indeed,” Emma overrode her. “You’re on, Agnes. Jane, I know you’re good at using paint. Not the usual stuff you used to shovel on your own face, but something more subtle. Just enough to brighten her eyes and give her a becoming blush. ”
“I don’t blush!” Which was immediately proven a lie, as eager hands began pulling off her unfashionable gown, and nothing she did could keep them from stripping her down to her undergarments.
“Lady Carstairs, you have a figure!” Sukey, former mistress to a Catholic bishop, breathed. “One would never know with those clothes you wear. Quite a nice bosom. ”
Melisande slammed her arms over her chest, only to have a swathe of silk tossed over her head. She had no choice but to put her arms through the sleeves, looking down at the pale green gown she’d never worn, her aunt insisting it was too risqué.
“The neckline’s too high,” Emma said judiciously. “And we’ll need to lace her in tighter. Take off the train—they’re dreadfully out of style right now, and perhaps some lace tucked in the bodice. ”
“I’ve got some lace,” Thin Polly called out.
“That chemise has got to go,” Violet announced. “Who’s got something skimpier?”
The room was filled with laughter. Hetty spoke up. “Who doesn’t? We’ll see who’s the closest fit. And don’t you worry none, your ladyship. They’ve all been properly washed—you made us wash everything, including ourselves, when we got here. Besides, the chemises were simply for show. They came off in a matter of moments. ”
“I can’t wear something like that!” Melisande protested, scandalized.
“You can and you will. It will give you courage, and make you feel deliciously naughty. ” Emma pulled at the dress. “Good God, did you have everything made three sizes too large for you?”
“My aunt was convinced that if I kept eating sweets I was going to be enormous and she wanted to ensure that the clothes would continue to fit me,” Melisande admitted with some shame.
Emma eyed her sternly. “Nonsense! Have you continued to eat sweets?”
“I’m afraid so. ”
“And you’ve got a lovely little figure. Just the right side of plump, and men adore curves. ”
“You could have made right good money, Lady Carstairs,” Violet announced ingenuously. “The skinny girls were always the last to be chosen. ”
Melisande choked.
