Page 37 of Lady Fiona's Tall, Dark Folly
Fifi had never intendedto go to the ball that night so she hadn't put much money into the creation of a new gown. But oh, now that she thrilled to Rory's presence and his compliments, she rose from her chair at the dressing table in her bedroom and turned this way and that to admire it. The way the apple green gauze and satin fell over her form to a trim of white and pink satin flowers at the hem made her grin.
Welles stood to her side, smiling. "Your are so lovely, my lady. Do you like your hair, too?"
Mary's maid had given her a new style, much favored in the fashion folios. "I do. I never thought parting it in the middle would compliment me. But it does." She patted the wreath of French roses in her dark hair. She'd been wise to bring her mother's pearl ensemble of necklace and earrings. She tugged on her white kid gloves. "Did Mary ask about me?"
The maid blinked, shifting from side to side, reluctant to speak.
"I understand, Welles. Mary has my best interests at heart. But I will speak to her tonight. I'm concerned about her." Concerned that she was pretending to care for Lord Bridges to complete their pact of last week. "But I must go quickly now."
Fifi limped down the stairs to the library very slowly. Her pain was less because she'd sat all afternoon in her rooms with her feet up. In her solitude, she said her silent thanks for the changes in her life. The improbable hope of Rory in her future. Her old conflicts with Esme buried. A new confidence springing up between them. That left Fifi with two worries. Esme was an unhappy bride, fearful she married a man who did not care for her in equal measure. If Esme reneged on her marriage tomorrow, the uproar in the family would be raucous. Fifi feared for her aunt's and uncle's happiness, even as she feared for Esme's more.
But there was little she could do for Esme. During their tea, they'd spoken of consequences to her and the family if she refused to marry the illustrious marquess of Northington. Fifi supported whatever Esme decided. But she worried about Esme's ultimate happiness.
Just as she worried about her own problem, the mystery of her father's antipathy for the Charltons. That was why she'd sent a note to her aunt earlier and asked to meet with her privately. Her aunt had consented to meet for a few minutes at eight o'clock.
Fearing she was late, Fifi opened both doors of the library with a whoosh. And there was her friend, Lady Di, in the arms of Lord Collingswood as they bent over the map table! Di's day gown of French chocolate gros de Naples sat low over her breasts, as he kissed her ear.
Fifi halted, her mouth open.
Collingswood lifted his gaze to hers.
Diana, dreamy-eyed, frowned at him, then followed his line of sight and yelped.
Fifi put a finger to her lips and melted backward, closing the doors quietly before her.
Well! She swallowed. Diana was a widow with two children, one of Fifi's oldest friends, and if she welcomed the attentions of this gentleman, then no one and no rules should deter her.
Fifi turned and sought a footman, the family butler...anyone! She must stop her aunt from entering the library. But preparations for the ball to begin at nine meant she traversed the length and breadth of the first floor and found absolutely not one soul.
Finally unable to go on with her ankle throbbing, she sank into a comfortable chair in the main salon. She pulled the bell, told the footman who appeared that she wished to meet her aunt here. Then she put up her foot on a stool...and fretted like a fishmonger's wife.
