Page 2 of Enslaved
Hardwick was just the type who might appeal to Diana. Though his clothes were expensive, he was not a slave to fashion and the slant of his firm jaw showed he was no fop. He had a clean-cut look about him and an easy smile that would disarm the most suspicious nature. He was a well-made, handsome youth who would fit the bill to perfection if he turned out to be both noble and broke.
Richard presented his card and said casually, “I specialize in money matters. I administer the estate of my niece, Lady Diana Davenport, among others. Feel free to call at Grosvenor Square anytime.”
Shortly after, Hardwick left with two friends. Richard immediately recognized Richard Barry, the Earl of Barrymore, known as Hellgate. The Barrys were an infamous family. The brothers were all young bucks with more money than brains. Oh well, he’d dangled the bait, and if Hardwick nibbled, he’d reel him in hook, line, and sinker, providing of course Prudence approved him as arespectableparti!
Diana’s breath was almost gone. She knew if she was squeezed any tighter, she would lose consciousness. “Please, let go, I can’t breathe,” she begged.
Her pleas were ignored.
If this is what I must endure to be on the marriage market, I’d rather be a spinster,Diana decided. Her breasts were being squashed flat, and she feared her ribs were about to be broken. Anger came to her rescue. “Stop!” she said, firmly pulling away from her tormentor.
The modiste let go of the corset strings and turned to Prudence for support.
“Diana, my dear, a firm foundation garment is absolutely necessary. All grown ladies must suffer these things.”
“But I prefer the first one I tried. It merely nipped in my waist and didn’t squash my breasts flat as pancakes.”
Prudence flushed unbecomingly. “Ladies don’t say that word. It’s not respectable.”
“Pancakes?” Diana couldn’t resist. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she watched her aunt struggle for composure.
“The first one was totally inadequate. This is the one you need,” Prudence insisted.
“Why?” Diana asked stubbornly.
“I can see you are forcing me to be indelicate … so be it. Your bosom is full and when you dance it will … jiggle. And that is not the worst of it. Some dances these days are so scandalous a man actually is allowed to place his hand upon your person. If you were not well corseted, he would think you naked beneath your gown!”
What a lovely idea,Diana thought irreverently. She almost asked, “Is that an argumentfororagainst?”She decided to bite her tongue.
“We’ll take a dozen,” said Prudence.
A dozen will last a lifetime,thought Diana with dismay.
“You may have a few of the lighter ones,” Prudence conceded.
Diana’s hopes began to rise.
“To wear in bed beneath your nightgowns.”
Diana’s hopes sank deeper than Davy Jones’s locker. She pulled listlessly at the corset strings, digging a whalebone stay from beneath her top rib.
“Don’t dawdle, child. Dame Lightfoot will be here any moment to begin your dancing instruction.”
Diana could already dance. Her body swayed sensually whenever she heard music. She’d watched the Gypsies once when she’d been on holiday with her father and the fast, exotic gyrations had indelibly imprinted themselves on her impressionable young mind. She didn’t know the intricate steps to ballroom dancing, however, which were an absolute must for a young lady of the ton. She hoped Dame Light-foot would have music in her heart and passion in her soul. Surely someone who taught dancing for a living couldn’t be completely straightlaced.
Diana’s hopes were snuffed the moment she set eyes on Dame Lightfoot. She was Junoesque, well endowed in the upper story, but rigidly encased in whalebone. Her iron-gray wig was as severe as her countenance. She carried a tall stick with an ebony knob which she tapped on the floor whenever she wished to emphasize a point.
Obviously the dancing mistress had passed muster with her guardian for Prudence positively beamed upon her. “This is your charge, Dame Lightfoot. I have no qualms in placing Lady Diana in your capable hands. A few lessons in deportment and etiquette along with the dance steps would not go amiss. My darling niece is rather bookish, I’m afraid. She needs drilling in the do’s and don’ts of a successful first season.”
The martinet tapped her stick upon the floor as she scanned Diana from nose to toes. Her hooded eyes were shrewd, they missed nothing.
“I shall leave you to get to know each other,” Prudence said, closing the French doors of the music room.
“How are you, young lady?” asked Dame Lightfoot with hauteur.
“Cynical,” replied Diana truthfully.
The dame let out a bark of laughter that made Diana think perhaps not all was lost.
