Page 35 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Hattie looked at herself. Mademoiselle Dashiell’s words were true. Hattie had to not onlylooklike a lady, but act like one. She lifted her chin and harnessed the power and magic she’d felt the first moment she’d gazed upon herself in the mirror once more.
She would become Lady Penelope Denning.
For Millie. For Ophelia. For Trudy. For His Grace.
And if she were honest…for herself.
For once, she wanted to become the woman she had always wished to be. A woman who was adored, beautiful, wealthy and with a family, even if it was only a pretend one. Her father could become the man of her imagination’s creation, since she had never known him, and her mother could be the strong, resilient, nurturing spirit she had always longed for rather than the woman who had given up on her life and died from heartbreak when Hattie was a child.
Hattie would be worthy of what she wore and how she was treated this evening.
‘Shoes?’ Mademoiselle asked, smiling at her. She held two options for Hattie and each was beautiful.
‘Which one will I be less likely to fall in?’ she asked.
‘That does not sound like something Lady Penelope would worry over,’ Lady Buchanan stated with a smirk as she closed the chamber door behind her. Hattie had not even heard her return.
‘You are right,’ Hattie replied. She studied each shoe and opted for the one with the higher heel and embellished flowers cascading across the toe.
‘They will swoon for you,’ Daphne stated. ‘William is waiting. I do not believe I have seen him this nervous since his wedding day.’
Hattie’s stomach flipped as she slipped her stocking feet into the satin shoes. They felt so marvellous she almost sighed aloud.
‘Ready?’ Daphne asked.
While her heart screamed she was not at all prepared, Hattie nodded as if she was. The sooner the charade began, the sooner it would end, and if she could muster up the adequate amount of courage, she might even enjoy herself. This was her chance to be someone rather than an orphan and governess. This evening anything was possible, even a great deal of happiness.
But she had to let herself receive it. For it was there for the taking.
Hattie slid her hands into the silky-smooth long gloves the modiste had made of the same wine-coloured material as her dress and stepped forward as the chamber door was opened for her by the maid.
Daphne turned to her and smiled. ‘Follow me, my lady. Thetonawaits.’
William felt like an awkward schoolboy as he waited at the threshold behind the curtains at the top of the stairs. The ballroom below was awash with colourful gowns, glistening jewels and the golden glow of candlelight. Soft music played in the background as thetonmingled with one another, no doubt whispering about when he, as the Duke and host of the ball to celebrate his succession, would appear. So much depended on how believable Miss Potts was this evening. If she was convincing as Lady Penelope Denning, then his family might finally have some sense of normalcy and peace. If she was not,then the scrutiny around him, his wife’s scandalous past and his family would only intensify.
A wave of loneliness washed over him. How he wished his parents and brother could be here to share this moment, but the irony was if they were here, he wouldn’t be inheriting such a title. How he would trade it all to have them back. He longed for their love, support and guidance. At least he had Daphne. After Cecily’s death, many of his so-called friends had created some distance from him. For even if thetondid not speak of the indelicacies of his late wife in public, they were whispered about in private. Everyone had known of Cecily’s proclivities.
He stifled a curse. Tonight had to be successful. It was time for positive gossip to spread like wildfire among the peerage about his family name and legacy. For his sake. For Millie’s sake.
This had to be a new chapter and a fresh step forward.
He closed his eyes and began to will just that.
‘Your Grace?’
Miss Potts.
Her voice was soft yet confident. He smiled, eager to see what Mademoiselle Dashiell had created and why Daphne had been so insistent on him not seeing his pretend betrothed for the evening until this very moment.
He turned.
Everything around him stopped. He could not hear or see anything but her. He stared. Was this gorgeous creature Miss Potts, his governess? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her. Her gown, the darkest of merlots, flowed along her form, accentuating her fine figure by cinching in and out of all the right places. A whisper of rubies glittered from an exquisite trail along her neck and teased the light as they twinkled from her delicate earlobes and hair, and her skin radiated like soft cream with her chestnut hair bound in some glorious twist of waves upon her head.
His throat dried. He had never seen so much of her before. Her shoulders and collarbone and whisper of decolletage thrust his mind and body into places he had not expected. Lust surged in him and he did his best to tamp it down before his body reacted too strongly. While he did need to appear attracted to her, as his pretend betrothed, he did need to maintain decorum.
She is Millie’s governess. She is Millie’s governess.
He chanted it over and over in his mind.But she surely did not look like one tonight. He opened and closed one of his gloved hands by his side as he regained his composure. ‘You look breathtaking,Lady Penelope,’ he finally said, his voice low and husky. He cleared his throat.
