“Well, then!” Mama beamed. “Judy is here to help you to dress. It’s almost six o’ clock...the viscount will be here soon.”
“Mama...” Bernadette gazed at her fearfully. Ever since the earl mentioned the notion of attending the theater, she’d felt frightened. The whole day had passed in a sort of terrified blur, her mind returning each chance it got to the frightening prospect.
I don’t even know him.
She took a deep breath. That wasn’t exactly true—they had exchanged words twice now. Once at the ball, and once at dinner. She blushed, recalling the way she had caught him staring at her as she played the sonata.
Maybe he just likes music. Or maybe he was listening and silently judging it,she thought a little sadly. That look was impossible to interpret.
“I must go to my chamber,” Mama excused herself as Judy came in. “I will greet Lord Blackburne in the entranceway later.”
“Yes, Mama,” Bernadette said softly. She turned to the doorway where Judy stood waiting.
Judy helped her to button the elaborate scarlet evening dress, and Bernadette stared at herself disbelievingly in the mirror. The dress fairly screamed its presence, and she felt as though she was invisible inside.
“Milady? Can I help you with your hairband?”
“Please do,” Bernadette said a little sadly. Her hair was to be styled elaborately, curled at the front as it had been for dinner yesterday, the back rolled into a chignon. A band of red silk was meant to go around her head, holding the chignon in place in front. It was a lovely outfit—it just was not her taste.
As Bernadette stood from the seat to let Judy help her into the new dress, a frantic knocking sounded at the door.
“Daughter! Quick! Quick!”
“Mama?” Bernadette called, astonished. “Whatever is it?”
“Let me in. It’s her! In the drawing room. Quickly, now.”
“What is it?” Bernadette asked, frightened, as Judy opened the door and her mother hurried inside, her blonde hair a little wild where it had escaped its modest bun.
“It’s...it’s Lady Lockwood.” Mama sounded tense. “She’s in the drawing-room.”
“Lady Lockwood?” Bernadette’s frown deepened and it took her a moment to realize that it was Lord Blackburne’s grandmother. “What must I do?” Bernadette asked, a little confused.
“Go down, of course!” Mama said at once, her eyes wide, clearly agitated. “She needs to see you at once. Or so she said.”
“What? Me?” Bernadette blinked, her shocked mind working too slowly.
“Yes! Of course! You’re the one who’s going to wed her grandson. I don’t think she came here to tell me that it was raining across town.”
Bernadette inclined her head. Her mother’s harsh tone was, she knew, coming from sheer fear. She’d never seen her so disconcerted. She glanced at Judy, who shrugged.
“I’ll complete your hairstyle when you come upstairs, milady.”
“Thank you,” Bernadette said softly, looking to Judy for assurance. Judy smiled at her, dark eyes confused and caring, and Bernadette tried to smile back, but her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t think of anything as Mama practically dragged her into the hallway.
“Oh! What a to-do!” Mama whispered. “Hurry. Hurry. No. Go slowly...we must comport ourselves like a baroness and her daughter.” She drew in a breath, slowing her step.
Bernadette tried to slow down too, but her heart raced, and she wished she could calm down. She followed her mother down the hallway.
“Lady Lockwood!” Mama greeted the woman as they walked into the drawing room. Her voice was higher pitched than usual, her tension clearly obvious. Bernadette dropped a swift curtsey, then looked up.
The woman who stood before them was tall; or she gave the impression of tallness with her excellent posture and her hair in an elegant white up-do. Her oval face was lined but still beautiful, her smile impeccable, her eyes assessing and shrewd.
“Lady Rothendale. Miss Rowland,” Lady Lockwood greeted them. Bernadette studied her swiftly, her heart thudding fearfully.
I don’t like her.
The feeling was instant, a sense of repulsion, of fear that she couldn’t quite explain. She chided herself inwardly as the countess smiled.
