Page 23 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
Ruth’s eyes widened, and she clasped her hands to her mouth in a dramatic manner. “Oh, Ara! You look like a fairy tale princess in it! Like Cinderella!”
Ara smiled indulgently. “You are too kind, dear Ruth.” She gazed back at herself in the mirror, swaying slightly, so that the fabric of the gown brushed around her legs. “Although I must say, shehasdone a good job. I do almost feel like Cinderella in this gown, but I do hope I do not turn into a scullery maid at midnight!”
“It is exquisite,” breathed Ruth. “Oh, I think that the Duke shall ignore all the other young ladies, now!” She glanced at Ara. “I think that none of them shall hold a candle to you. And to tell you the truth, I think that he would not have been looking at them anyway…”
Ara coloured slightly. “What do you mean?”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “Oh, Ara, you cannot pretend with me! I have seen how he gazes at you. He admires you greatly. Even a blind man could see it.” She gazed at her curiously. “You must have discerned his regard yourself?”
Ara shrugged uncomfortably. “I…suppose he likes me, a little bit.” She bit her lip. “But then, he is probably like that with all the young ladies…”
Ruth stared at her in amazement. “No, indeed! I think that his preference is marked.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, I think that he will propose to you at the ball. I think that he is only going through with the ball because the invitations have already been sent out.”
Ara blushed deeply. No, it wasn’t possible…was it? She stared at Ruth. Her cousin was merely being fanciful.
“You are such a romantic,” she said slowly. “There is no such thing as love at first sight, Ruth. The Duke barely knows me! We have been in each other’s company only twice after all, and haven’t really spoken much in those times…”
But Ruth, usually so docile and compliant, agreeing with other people even when it contradicted her own opinions, shook her head firmly.
“You are not seeing the truth of it, Ara,” she insisted. “I have observed many gentlemen and ladies together, at balls and dances and other social events besides. I can always tell when there is that spark between two people. And there is definitely a very large spark between the two of you…”
Ara bit her lip. “Do you really think so?”
Ruth nodded her head vigorously. “I know so. And I think it is serious, my dear. I would not be surprised at all if he proposes.” She took a deep breath. “He is so handsome, Ara, and seems a charming man. I saw you blushing, staring at him, when we visited the stables. You are not as immune to him as you declare, dear cousin.”
Ara stared at the wall. She knew that Ruth was right in everything that she said. Shewasn’timmune to the Duke. She was very far from immune to him. Just the thought of him caused her heart to beat faster and being around him was almost too much.
It was all so confusing. She had never experienced this with a man before and had never expected to. She had watched other young ladies turn to pools of liquid around gentlemen, gazing at them with doe eyes, hanging off their every word. She had watched it all dispassionately, thinking that she was exempt from an illness that other people easily succumbed to.
What if her cousin was right about the Duke intending to propose to her at the ball as well?
Ara felt a small frisson of emotion fall through her. On one hand, the thought of such a thing happening made her so fearful she felt like running as far away as she could. But on the other hand, it also gave her a thrill of pleasure to think that he admired her so much that he wanted to make her his wife. It was all so contradictory and confusing she could barely think clearly.
Suddenly, the curtain was pulled open. Mrs. Nott stood there, gazing at them both.
“What on earth is going on in here?” she asked tartly. “We still have Ruth’s fitting, and there is simply no time for gossiping in dressing rooms!” But then she stopped abruptly, staring at Ara. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, my dearest,” she breathed. “You look a vision! The Duke is not going to be able to take his eyes off you!”
Ara blushed uncomfortably. “Oh, Mama. It is simply a gown like any other…”
Mrs. Nott shook her head firmly. “No, it is not. It is very far from a gown like any other! Mrs. Hogan is an artist. She has used material as if it is a paint brush, and you are the canvas!”
Ara’s blush deepened. She wasn’t used to such high praise from her mother, and as always, Mama never did things by halves. It was a little too effusive, and she didn’t feel comfortable with it at all.
The last thing she wanted was to be the centre of attention, or to cause a stir at this ball. All of the ton would be there, judging everybody, critically appraising dress and manner. She didn’t want to stand out, to have their eyes drawn towards her, for censure or for praise.
But then she shook her head. It was her mother and her cousin who were praising her, and they were biased. At a large ball, with so many rich and fashionable ladies present, she would only be one among many. She would not stand out in the least.
“You will be the belle of the ball,” continued Mrs. Nott, nodding vigorously. “I have no doubt of it, at all. And the Duke will be smitten…”
“Oh, Mama,” said Ara crossly. “You are making too much of a fuss!” She stared at both of them. “Enough of this, now. I will change quickly, and Ruth may have her fitting.”
They both stared at her but nodded, drifting out of the room.
Ara gazed back at her reflection. The dress seemed somehow tainted, now, by all the praise. By all the weight of expectation that was being placed upon it.
Mrs. Hogan came back into the room, helping her shed it, so that she could put on the gown she had worn here. The one that serviceable Mrs. Gibbs had made, back in Frasby. The one that did not attract too much attention. As Ara slipped it back on, she felt herself calming down, second by second.
