Page 20 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
“I trust them wholeheartedly, Lady Helena. Enough to know that I’ll be hearing from you soon.” His grin stayed on his face as he gave a tilt of his head at the door to tell her goodbye.
From the window she watched him dash down the steps out front, practically skipping in his confidence. As hegreeted his driver, her gaze took in the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his hand on the carriage door.
She had already made her decision, and they both knew it. All that was left was for her to shore her defenses against the whirlwind courtship that was coming. She wasn’t entirely confident that she could do it... or that she even wanted to try.
Chapter 7
Virtue can only flourish amongst equals.
Mary Wollstonecraft
My dear Mr. Crenshaw,
A ball is being given in honor of the birthday of His Grace, the Duke of Hereford, four days hence. It is certain to be well worth your efforts to attend.
Yours very sincerely,
Lady Helena March
Madam,
Save your waltzes for me.
Yours,
Maxwell Crenshaw
Helena had not been this anxious and excited at a ball since her coming-out season. This was partially due to her state of dress, or lack of dress, as it were, but mostly because of Mr. Crenshaw.Maxwell.She should try to remember that after tonight she would refer to him by his given name, because she planned to accept his proposal. Tonight, they would dance and flirt and do all the things that a couple in the beginning stages of a courtship should do. It would be a deception, but her body didn’t seem toknow that. The palms of her hands tingled with the expectation of touching him as they danced. Her heart seemed to beat faster whenever she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man. He hadn’t arrived yet, and the anticipation of tonight had her seeing him in every man over six feet.
“Helena, dear.” Mama’s harsh whisper caught her ear as the woman approached. She wore a modest but stylish gown in burgundy with similarly dyed feathers in her elaborately pinned hair. She was one of those attractive people who would look elegant no matter what they wore. It was as if she had somehow managed to arrange the silver streaks in her hair to frame her face and perfectly highlight the brown tresses. People milled around them, significantly slowing her progress as she was forced to greet them all as she passed. Helena was accustomed to this. Her mother had been quite popular before Helena’s birth, and time had not changed a thing.
Helena waited patiently. Having arrived on the arm of her brother a mere half hour ago, she had yet to see her parents. It was only after they came together in the midst of the crowd that she noticed the admonition burning in her mother’s eyes. “Good evening, Mama. You look lovely.” Her mother’s gaze took in her gown surreptitiously.
“Helena... dear,” she repeated, leaning forward so that no one would overhear. “Have you entirely forgotten your improver?” The last word was said so quietly Helena might not have known what she meant had she not been anticipating this very conversation.
Helena laughed. “I have done no such thing, Mama. You know the new style doesn’t call for an improver.”
Her gown was a striking combination of black and white. The white bodice was cut into a deep V in the front and back and fell just off her shoulders. There was a second layer of black silk trimming the bodice that gave the provocative effect that the white gown revealed the top edging of her black underclothing, not that she would ever wearsuch a color under her clothes. The cuirasse-style bodice extended down over her hips in a shape that was almost formfitting. From there, the short skirt and a series of underskirts alternated the black and white pattern all the way down to the floor. The various layers were gathered up in the back and secured just beneath her bottom to create a lovely draping effect across the front. This meant that the gown did not need a dress improver, and the various layers created a graceful fall of black and white silk that trailed on the floor behind her.
“I disapprove of this.” Mama sniffed her displeasure.
“I’m hardly the only one wearing the new style. Don’t you remember August—” She stopped talking when her mother closed her eyes for a moment. It was probably wrong to remind her that August had been one of the first to wear the look back in the spring. Many of the older women considered it an indecent display of hips, and almost all of them also considered the Americans indecent in a variety of other ways. The truth was that while most of the women present still wore a bustle, several had adopted the new Continental style.
“Yes, I recall.”
Helena smiled. It would be in poor form to tell her mother that her small rebellion had been in part because of their subtle marriage pressure. At twenty-six she felt old, and a pretty and provocative gown made her feel young and attractive again. Instead, she said, “You might try it next year. The fall of silk would look attractive on your figure.”
Her mother pursed her lips, but Helena could tell the compliment had soothed her ruffled feathers. However, she had been reluctant to give up her crinoline and could not understand why the current fashion was moving toward a more natural silhouette.
“The colors of your gown are remarkable,” Mama said to soften her earlier censure. “Mature but daring, which suits you very well.”
“Thank you.”
“You could do with more bodice. You must take care of how much of your bosom you display.”
Helena fought to keep her eyes from rolling. Her mother was fine boned and with a small frame. Helena, however, had inherited her larger frame from her father’s side of the family, and as a result, her shoulders had always been broader than she wanted and her breasts larger than was fashionable. Smile intact, she said, “I’m certain there is a more appropriate place for this conversation.”
“You’re quite right, dear.” Mama patted her hand and glanced over toward where a group of men stood talking with Papa. “I’ve already spoken with Lord Tilbury and Sir Stratton, and both have indicated an eagerness to dance with you tonight. Please make certain you save them both dances. Stratton has recently inherited, if you recall, so perhaps a waltz for him.”
