Page 86 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
Clumsy, ignorant or selfish? Perhaps all three, if what Lord Tarrant said was true. Certainly Papa had never been an affectionate man. She recalled the way Lord Tarrant had picked up Lina in her distress and soothed her, making the child feel loved instead of shamed. And the way he’d given little Debo her much-longed-for kitten, even though cats made him sneeze.
Papa would never have done that. Nor would Thaddeus.
Lord Tarrant’s children were in no doubt that they were loved and valued. Alice had never felt like that. All through her childhood she had tried to earn her father’s love by being good and obedient, by doing the right thing. But nomatter how hard she tried, she’d never managed to measure up to Papa’s standards. She was never good enough.
She’d gone to her wedding with such hope, such tender dreams, determined to find the happiness that people said came with marriage. But whatever Thaddeus had wanted in a bride, he’d made it very clear, almost from the first day, that she wasn’t it. And as time went on, he’d reminded her regularly that she was as far from a satisfactory wife as a woman could be.
Her barrenness had only reinforced it.
The rain had stopped, but raindrops still dripped from the trees. She could hear footsteps crunching on the crushed limestone path: Tweed coming with an umbrella.
Alice stood, smoothing her hair and straightening her skirts, hoping the turmoil inside her wasn’t visible. She moistened her lips, and remembered the way his gaze had focused on her mouth and intensified. Her lips tingled at the memory, as did other parts of her body that were nowhere near her mouth.
Marry me and I will turn “um” into “yum.”
Lord Tarrant had shaken her foundations to the core. In more ways than one.
Chapter Twelve
It was the night of Lady Peplowe’s masquerade ball. Alice had donned her flowing blue-green gown and her maid, Mary, had dressed Alice’s hair in what she imagined was an Egyptian style—close around the head, then flowing loose with beads and gold cords plaited in. She’d also painted Alice’s face with crimson lips and shadowed, almond-shaped cat’s eyes.
The woman in Alice’s looking glass didn’t look much like her at all. She looked glamorous and mysterious.
“You look gorgeous, Alice,” Lucy said, entering the room. “Here’s the rest of your outfit. Mary, that hairstyle is perfect—the headdress will fit over it beautifully.”
Alice stared at the gleaming gold headpiece, armbands and belt Lucy had brought in. “These look wonderful, Lucy—just like new. However did you do it?”
Lucy grinned. “Oh, papier-mâché is easy. I couldn’t afford proper gold leaf, but eventually I found some paint that produces a very good imitation. The shine won’t last long, but that won’t matter for something you wear once or twice.And if in five years’ time you want to wear it again, I’ll just paint it again. Now try it on.”
Mary carefully fitted the headpiece on Alice. The thick gold band, embossed with Egyptian-style motifs, enclosed her head. On her forehead was a large jewel glittering in the center of a sunburst shape entwined with snakes.
“It’s perfect and lighter than I remember,” Alice said, adjusting it slightly. She slipped the snake armbands on and fastened the belt of Egyptian-style medallions around her waist. It, too, had new glittering “jewels” glued on. There was also an elegant gold mask with large cat’s-eye eyeholes with gold ribbons to tie it on.
She turned to Lucy to thank her again and frowned. “You’d better hurry and get dressed. I hoped we’d leave in half an hour.” Lucy was wearing a wrapper, and she hadn’t even dressed her hair.
Lucy dimpled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be ready. I just need Mary’s help with a few things.”
Mary smiled. “Be with you in a minute, miss.” Lucy danced out, and the maid added, “If that’s all right with you, m’lady?”
“Of course. You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you, Mary? Dressing us up like dolls.”
“I am and all, m’lady. This old house has really come to life since that young miss came to live here. Her, and having Lord Tarrant’s little girls come to visit. Like a breath of fresh air, it is, having young life about the place.” As she was leaving, she turned in the doorway and said, “And you, m’lady, I can tell you’re happier—you look ten years younger. And dressed like that you look... stunning. Lord Tarrant’s eyes are going to fall right out when he sees you.”
“Oh no, you’re mistak—” But Mary had gone.
Alice viewed herself in the looking glass. Mary—all the servants—had the wrong idea about Lord Tarrant and her. They were all expecting a betrothal announcement, and that wasn’t going to happen.
She wasn’t dressing for him, she really wasn’t. She was dressing for herself. And so that the night wouldn’t be spoiled for Lucy. And Lady Peplowe. And because this was the only costume she had.
Besides, she wasn’t even sure he was coming. Lady Peplowe might not have invited him.
She stood in front of the looking glass and swished her skirts gently back and forth. A smile slowly grew. She did look quite unlike her usual self.
She tied on the slender gold mask. Her eyes glinted mysteriously through the cat’s-eye slits. Her smile deepened.
He probably wouldn’t even recognize her. If he came, that is.
Half an hour later, Alice watched Lucy coming gracefully down the stairs. “You look wonderful,” she exclaimed. “I would never have recognized that as my old muslin dress.”
