Page 101 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl
She couldn’t wait to see Damian as Antony. Though she was still angry with him, she had come up with an idea to solve the problem, if Damian wouldn’t change his mind.
This was the last evening she would appear as Mrs Clark, the Earl of Dart’s cousin. After today she would simply continue her life as herself.
Strangely, she had the feeling she would miss it. She had already begun to miss Damian. These last few days she had hardly seen him and when she did they had argued.
She stepped into the tunic-like dress and held still while Susan fastened it down the back.
She still didn’t know how she would fare living alone in the depths of the countryside. Nonsense. She would manage as she had for years, only this time she would be pleasing only herself.
‘Where does this go?’ Susan said, holding up a belt fashioned to look like a snake.
‘It ties around the hips, quite low. Look, here is the picture of what it is supposed to look like.’ The dressmaker had drawn up the design for her and Damian’s approval.
‘Oh, yes. I see now.’ Susan fastened the belt around her hips.
‘Now for the jewellery.’ Susan fastened bangles around her arms and a golden headband across her forehead, then stood back to admire the effect. ‘This is so much fun. I don’t think I would recognise you if I didn’t know you.’
Pamela laughed. No one actually knew her. Not any more. Except perhaps Damian and he really didn’t seem interested any longer.
‘Now for the make-up.’
Susan looked at the picture. ‘I can do it like this, if you wish.’
Kohl-rimmed eyes, ruby lips and darkened eyebrows. ‘Perfect.’ If only her eyes weren’t such a distinctive shade. They were the only thing about her that she could not change.
When Pamela went downstairs an hour later, she felt certain she would not have recognised herself, but still she was glad of the mask she held in her hand. She would put it on before their guests arrived.
Tonight there would be several people here that she knew well, including her mother. Quite possibly, they would be a lot closer than they had been when they passed each other in the carriage.
Damian was in the drawing room, looking like a god in his Roman robes and the crown of olive leaves on his brow. It was the first time he had ever appeared in costume. Clearly, he was set on making this event a success.
He also had not yet donned his mask.
He gazed at her for a long moment and nodded his approval. ‘You look like every man’s dream of Cleopatra.’
She wasn’t quite sure if it was a compliment or not, he sounded so grim. ‘Thank you.’
He handed her a glass of sherry. ‘Fortifications before the hordes arrive.’
She smiled and swallowed a mouthful. ‘I need it. I just hope I haven’t forgotten anything important.’
‘Everything is just as it should be. And I have to say that the ivy-clad columns are a very nice touch.’
‘I am glad you like them.’
He tossed back his brandy and held out his hand for her glass. She finished it and handed it over.
How distant they were with each other, how restrained. No doubt he did not want her losing her temper the way she had the other evening.
Together they climbed the stairs to the ballroom.
They stood at the double doors waiting to greet the guests as they arrived and she gazed at him. Soon they would part and would never see each other again. ‘I am sorry if I have been a bit of a trial to you recently,’ she said.
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘I am sorry, too. Very sorry. I hope you will remember that.’
He turned away to speak to one of the footmen at the drinks table.
What on earth did he mean?
