Page 44 of Tamed By a Duke
Hugh Landon Charles Abermale, Sixth Duke of Penrith, respectfully requests the pleasure of your company tomorrow evening, for a ball at Penrith House.
Charlotte had read and re-read the invitation umpteen times, before traipsing downstairs to find her father.
"Penrith is holding a ball," Brandon Drew had called, waving an invitation of his own, as Charlotte entered the library.
"Yes, I had gathered," Charlotte held up her own identical page for him to see.
The pair's exchange was cut short, however, when Lady Everleigh—brandishing an invitation of her own— had barged into the room.
"Charlotte," she had cried, as she spotted her granddaughter, "You've done it!"
"Done what?"
Accustomed to accusations of misbehaviour, Charlotte had been rather defensive in her reply.
"You have captured a duke," Lady Everleigh's triumph was almost palpable, "Penrith never hosts balls—it can mean only one thing."
"And what is that?"
"That he intends to ask you to marry him."
A kerfuffle had broken out, as Brandon Drew had leapt from his chair and danced a jig—an actual jig—around the floor.
"My daughter, a duchess," he had said, once his dancing had stopped, with wonder in his eyes.
"Well, she might not be," Lady Everleigh had cast a disproving glance over Charlotte's figure, "If she arrives at Penrith House looking like that. Come, Charlotte, let us find Helga and have her beautify you."
And so, Charlotte had spent a torturous evening being attended to by Helga. The industrious Swede had bathed her in scented water, slathered Olympia Dew on her every nook and cranny, and had sent her to bed with a greasy pomade coating her tresses.
The next morning, Charlotte had been awoken at dawn, to endure even more torture from Helga. She had been bathed again, slathered in even more creams and potions, and had her hair brushed one-hundred times, before the lady's maid attacked it with a curling iron.
The preparations for the ball had taken most of the day, but once she was dressed and ready, Charlotte had to admit that the effort was worth it.
"I don't look like me," Charlotte whispered, as Helga finally allowed her view herself in the looking-glass.
"I know," came Helga's tearful reply. For all of her tenure, Helga had longed for Charlotte to not be Charlotte, and tonight she had finally gotten her wish.
Charlotte eyed herself warily, afraid that she might undo Helga's work simply by blinking. Her red curls had been beaten into submission and were arranged in an artful up-style, which Helga proudly told her was a la Medusa. Her face had been lightly powdered, the slightest hint of rouge applied to her cheeks, and—despite Charlotte's protests—Helga had applied a mixture of black soot from the oil lamp mixed with aromatic camphor and oil to her lashes to darken them. Her dress was new, made of dark green velvet, which hugged her curves, while the skirts whispered as she walked.
She looked, Charlotte thought, most glamorous, most seductive, and not at all like herself.
"Now you wait," Helga commanded, propelling Charlotte toward the ottoman at the end of her bed and ordering her to sit.
Charlotte duly complied, petrified that she might wrinkle her skirts and exact Helga's ire. After nearly a half hour of tedious waiting, a knock came upon the door, and a pale-faced Bianca entered.
"Cat," she exclaimed, as she caught sight of her sister, "You look like a living fashion-plate."
"I'm afraid I won't be living very long, if I stand too close to any fires," Charlotte replied, with an unladylike snort. The lotions and potions that Helga had coated her skin in had a definite whiff of alcohol to them and Charlotte was beginning to suspect that she might go up in smoke if she neared a naked flame.
"Well don't stand next to any," Bianca sagely advised, "For it would be shame if you were to combust before anyone witnessed how lovely you look."
"Would that be the only shame?" Charlotte replied dryly.
"Well, I suppose I would miss you," Bianca replied, with a twinkle in her eye, "And it would be rather galling for you not to witness my come-out, after all your efforts."
"You mean?"
Charlotte forgot all about her dress and her hair, as she leapt from her perch with excitement. Bianca's eyes glistened happily and she nodded her head, all the confirmation Charlotte needed before pulling her sister into a warm embrace.
