Page 47 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
“Oh, it’s beautiful, Alex! Florence, take a look at this!”
“He has a remarkable eye,” Lady Caldecott admitted begrudgingly. “It’s very pretty.”
Mary stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Alexander on the cheek.
“What a darling boy you are. Oh, I have an idea! Why don’t you make up a little bouquet to give to Florence’s niece? She’s such a shy little thing, and only danced half the dances last night.”
Lady Caldecott’s glare burned into the side of Alexander’s face. He forced a smile.
“I would, but I happen to know that Miss Atwater doesn’t like to pick flowers. She likes to admire them alive, in their habitats.”
Mary blinked, surprised, and glanced over at Lady Caldecott. “Oh. Is that true, Florence?”
Lady Caldecott looked as though she’d swallowed an insect, or perhaps taking a long sip of lemon juice.
Behind the sourness, however, he could have sworn there was a hint of admiration and surprise.
“He’s right,” she admitted begrudgingly.
Mary shrugged, taking a long sniff of her roses.
“Oh, well. You’ll have to get her another present then, Alex.”
Chapter Thirteen
Abigail chose a pastel-pink gown, heavy with lace. It wasn’t a gown she would have chosen for herself, but itwaspretty, and itdidsuit her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to wear pink a little more often. The dress was a present from Aunt Florence, and she’d found it waiting for her in her room when she went up to dress for dinner.
There was a tap on her bedroom door, and Aunt Florence poked her head through. Her face creased into a smile when she saw Abigail in the gown.
“Ah, you’re wearing it!”
“Of course,” Abigail laughed, spinning around in a little circle to show off the dress. “It’s beautiful, Aunt, thank you. You’re too kind to me, really. I’m going to wear the coral necklace you gave me with it. It’ll go perfectly.”
“You’re developing a taste of your own,” Aunt Florence said approvingly, coming into the room properly. “I’m glad to see that. A woman ought to dress for herself and nobody else, andcertainlynot for her mother and sister.”
Abigail bit back a smile. When she’d had her Season, she had dutifully worn whatever her mother had chosen out. Their clothes were generally picked to suit Scarlett, and Abigail was not really considered at all.
Lately, her only clothes had been simple, plain ones, easy to mend and maintain, and chosen for their cheapness, not meant to overshadow Scarlett.
Icouldovershadow Scarlett in this gown,Abigail thought, with a frisson of spiteful glee.
Aunt Florence helped her fasten the coral necklace around her neck, nodding approvingly.
“Yes, yes, very pretty. Do you know, I had second thoughts about this colour? Pale, sugary colours are all very nice, but noteverybodycan suit them. You do, though, my dear. I’m glad I chose this shade. You’ll turn some heads with this gown, that’s for sure,” she met Abigail’s eye in the mirror, and smiled conspiratorially. “One head in particular, I think.”
Abigail’s throat tightened. “Aunt Florence, I don’t know what you mean.”
Even as she said it, images of Lord Alexander’s handsome, grinning face flashed up behind her eyes, making her heart flutter and her cheeks flush. She saw him extending his hand to her, beckoning her onto the dance floor, and her heart pounded faster than ever. She imagined him seeing her in her new beautiful dress, his eyes widening with admiration.
“Of course you do,” Aunt Florence said briskly, adjusting the lace at Abigail’s neck. “Lord Donovan won’t be able to take his eyes off you tonight.”
Abigail’s heart plummeted. Of course.
“He’s very taken with you, you know,” Aunt Florence continued, oblivious. “I’ve never agreed with all that nonsense about womenemploying artsto attract men, but I do think alittlemore encouragement wouldn’t go amiss. Just to reassure him, you know?”
I don’t want to reassure him.
“I… I think Lord Donovan is a fine man, but…”
