Page 37 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
“Trying to play matchmaker? No need. We’re merely old friends, and to that end, I’ve accepted an invitation to the theatre tomorrow.”
Emily squealed. “Tomorrow. What will you wear?”
“My black bombazine will do.”
“Absolutely not. I have the perfect gown. You and I are the same height and build, or at least we were before I became a cow. Come. You should try it on in case I need to alter it for you.”
“Your sewing is superb, but haven’t you a competent lady’s maid to do that?”
“You sound like my mother.” She swished her skirts. “Come. Let’s see if we can transform you from fade-into-the-woodwork Lily Whittington into the vibrant, exotic Lady Lily, sister of the Earl of Langston.”
Lily laughed and followed her niece up the stairs. She certainly hoped she wouldn’t regret this. Wasn’t it long past time to emerge from her chrysalis? She’d be in a theatre, and with luck, no one would see or recognize her. How many people remained who would remember that old gossip about her? Probably none.
They entered Emily’s suite, and Lily followed her into the dressing room, telling herself this adventure was taking Emily’s mind off her coming ordeal in the birthing chair.
Tomorrow was only hours away and Lily would be out in London society with Alastair.
Be brave.
Easy to say. Not so easy to do.
CHAPTER 3
“You look amazing, Aunt Lily.” Emily stood back and set her finger alongside her mouth. “Let’s see, shall we thread a few pearls through your hair? It would be a lovely touch.”
Lily studied her reflection in the glass. Her niece was a talented seamstress, who had made this green velvet dress and a matching pelisse for herself a few years ago. It had only needed a few alterations, which she’d made early this morning. Perfect for the theatre, as Emily had only worn it once at Langston Grange.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been out in Town, I’m not sure how to act,” Lily admitted.
“You’ll do fine. Remember the plays you enjoyed when the traveling theatrical troupes performed in the village?”
Indeed, but no one from London was ever present. Her biggest concern now was encountering someone who might remember the old scandal, the inquest, the accusations, the whispered words behind fans, and on two occasions, the cut direct by well-known matrons. Only Hannah, Whittington’s sister, could be so rude as to raise the subject after more than a decade. Lily did not know what had become of her former sister-in-law. Surely, she was no longer in London.
“I suppose a few pearls wouldn’t be too ostentatious.”
Emily opened a box where such hair ornaments were kept. Her maid, Alice, made a selection and began threading the pearl-studded combs through the elaborate coiffure she’d created for her employer’s aunt.
When Alice finished, Emily handed Lily her scent bottle. “I know you’ve always loved this fragrance. Papa said you used it sparingly, not wanting to smell like a … hmm … let me see if I can remember his exact words.”
Lily nearly choked with laughter, gasping to catch her breath. “I know exactly what they were, and they’re not fit for company.”
They shared a chuckle, and Lily appraised her reflection in the looking glass once more. She barely recognized herself. Was this Lady Lily, daughter of the late Earl of Langston and sister to the current one? It certainly wasn’t Mrs. Whittington, widow of a cit, who had lived in London, but mostly in Oxford, and had kept her sanity by giving free art lessons to village children.
“Are you ready? I believe Lord Selwick arrived twenty minutes ago.”
“What? And you allowed me to dawdle?”
“Spencer, our astute butler, gave him a tot of brandy and escorted him to the drawing room, where I’m sure he amused himself by admiring the paintings that adorn the walls.”
Lily rose and allowed Alice to help her slip on the pelisse. She picked up her reticule, adjusted her gloves, and followed Emily down the staircase. Lily stopped at the door of the drawing room. Alastair stood in front of one of her watercolors, a still life of fruit in a bowl. Not her best, but her niece loved it.
He turned, and for a moment, time melted and they were both nineteen, terribly in love and anxious for the years to pass so they could wed. As his eyes softened and his gaze held hers, she was conscious of the rapid galloping of her heart and her lungs nearly bursting with air. Then he grinned and sauntered forward, and she almost forgot to breathe again. The boy had always caused a flutter in her stomach. The man made her want to do delicious things she hadn’t thought about in years.
“You’re still a beauty, Lily.” His rich baritone voice stroked her insides like a velvet glove. She trembled and held out her hand. Taking it, he kissed the air above, as was proper. “Shall we depart?”
Making herself concentrate, Lily spoke to her beaming niece. “Send a message if you need me.”
“I promise.”
