Page 193 of From Rakes to Riches

Lady Corby’s gaze slid to Fiona. “I didn’t realize you had a ward. How charming.”

“Yes, I assumed responsibility for her after my father passed. Miss Wingate is enjoying her first Season so far.” He looked to Miss Nethergate. “And how is your Season?”

Miss Nethergate fluttered her lashes prettily. “This is my first outing, my lord. I am looking forward to the Basildon ball tomorrow evening. Will you be there?”

“Indeed we will.”

Fiona wondered if she could get her eyelashes to do what Miss Nethergate’s had done. She’d ask Cassandra to teach her. Surely she’d be able to do it.

“Your gown is lovely,” Miss Nethergate said, eyeing Fiona’s dress.

“Thank you. They’re quite large though, aren’t they?”

“That is the way of court dress,” Lady Corby said with a patient smile. “If you walk correctly and curtsy with grace, the gown will flow and sway beautifully. Like birds showing their plumage.”

Well, the feathers certainly brought birds to mind. Though they’d have to be particularly fat ones.

“Oh, it’s time,” Lady Corby said, her smile evaporating and her brow creasing as she pivoted toward the doors of the throne room, which had just opened.

“Good luck,” Miss Nethergate said before turning with an effortless poise that made Fiona want to weep.

“Don’t worry,” Overton whispered. “You’ve practiced plenty. You’ll comport yourself beautifully.”

She cast him a dubious stare. “Like a bird?”

He laughed softly. “Please don’t.”

Fiona smiled in spite of her nerves.

Lady Pickering rejoined them. “Ready? We’ll wait to be called.”

Scanning the room again, Fiona saw that Cassandra had finally arrived. And it was a good thing because her name was called next. Fiona met her gaze as she walked past, and Cassandra winked at her.

“Good luck!” Fiona mouthed.

How did Cassandra look spectacular in her overlarge gown? White with minimal gold and red accents, her dress was simply magnificent. It was the lack of fussiness, Fiona realized, that made it look less…garish.

No, she didn’t look garish at all, especially given the way she glided across the floor as if she regularly walked around in such a dreadfully uncomfortable state. For even though Cassandra’s gown might be the loveliest one here, it was still a death trap as far as Fiona was concerned.

Suddenly, Fiona heard her name. Every part of her turned to ice, and she feared she was too frozen solid to move. But then the earl nudged her, pulling her along into the throne room.

Rectangular, with people lining the sides as if they were spectators at a sport, the room seemed to grow longer with each step. At the opposite end was a dais upon which Queen Charlotte sat surrounded by her ladies in waiting.

Fiona’s breath caught. As ridiculous as she felt, this was a moment she had never imagined and would never forget. She was a nobody from nowhere and here she was about to meetthe queen. Everything after this would be somehow less.

The weight of everyone’s stares pressed down on Fiona, joining the frightful burden of her gown and jewels and feathered headdress. At last, the dais seemed to be close. She caught sight of Cassandra to her left but didn’t dare turn her head. Keeping her gaze pinned to the floor of the dais, Fiona put one foot in front of the other until Lord Overton came to a stop.

“Lord Overton and Lady Pickering,” someone intoned.

The earl presented an even more elegant bow than he had in the antechamber. “May I present my ward, Miss Fiona Wingate.”

Lady Pickering sank into a curtsey. “I am pleased to be Miss Wingate’s sponsor, Your Majesty.”

Now it was Fiona’s turn. She’d practiced all this dozens of times—until her thighs and calves had ached. And while she’d done it wearing the hoops beneath her gown and a headdress with two feathers, she hadn’t been wearing the actual gown or this headdress or any of these jewels.

Fiona carefully moved her right leg behind her left and slowly lowered herself toward the floor. When she’d finally reached the appropriate depth, she felt a surge of giddiness. Almost there!

But her left leg went numb suddenly. She feared for her balance. Panic rushed through her as she wobbled. She took a deep breath and silently told herself that she could manage this—she had only to rise. Only her legs were immovable, as if they were locked in place. She didn’t dare look toward the earl or Lady Pickering. She was to keep her head pointed forward, her gaze directed at the queen’s skirts.

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