Page 9 of Irresistible
She did know that Evie was not privy to Jess’s assignment, nor was she affiliated with the Foreign Office. Lady Pickering had made that clear on the way from her house. Jess had been surprised when Lady Pickering hadn’t stayed. She supposed she thought the older woman would want to supervise.
Evie sailed into the drawing room with a brilliant smile. “I’ve settled everything with the modiste. You shall have a final fitting on Monday, and all will be ready for your departure on Wednesday.”
Jess quickly adjusted herself into a more ladylike posture. Evie was so poised and beautiful. It was rather easy to feel like a gangly waterfowl beside her. Jess had often felt like a bedraggled goose over the past several Seasons as she’d tried to make her way amongst a sea of swans.
Except swans, she always thought to herself with a smile, were nasty, unfriendly creatures. That had made the comparison all the more amusing since most young ladies Jess had met had promptly dismissed her the moment she began to speak about books or travel or, God forbid, politics.
“I appreciate your help today,” Jess said with genuine gratitude. “I’ve had several wardrobes over the course of my Seasons, but never so many things in one day.”
Evie gave her an encouraging nod. “It can be exhausting. You held up very well, especially considering how quickly we went. Come and join me at the table as I’ve rung for refreshments. You must be ravenous.”
“I am, thank you.” Jess moved to the round table near the windows, where a bouquet of dahlias in pink, red, and yellow overflowed from a vase in the center.
Evie looked at her with keen interest. “Now, tell me more about your adventure.”
Lady Pickering had informed Evie that Jess was taking a trip away from London without her parents’ knowledge. That was why she needed to be disguised.
Jess slid into a chair opposite Evie just as the young, golden-haired butler brought a tray weighted with tea, sandwiches, and gorgeously decorated cakes that looked too good to eat. Each cake was a brightly colored flower, every bit as vivid as the actual blooms on the table.
“I’m traveling to Hampshire with Lady Pickering,” Jess answered. “From there, I will go…well, I’d rather not say. The goal is to determine if I’m truly ready to live an independent life. My mother does not support my desire for spinsterhood.”
Evie glanced up at the butler. “Thank you, Foster.” He inclined his head and departed.
“Of course, your mother doesn’t want that.” Evie rolled her eyes as she poured the tea. “Daughters are for advantageous marriages and little else.”
That had been made brutally clear to Jess when, at the age of eighteen prior to having a Season, she’d fallen in love with an unsuitable young man—anAmerican. Her parents had refused to allow them to wed and had, Jess learned several months later, paid him to leave. From that moment forward, Jess had done everything in her power to resist her parents’ machinations.
“You are a widow, are you not?” Jess asked, envying the woman’s freedom.
“I am, but I didn’t have parents who pushed me to wed.” Evie added milk to their tea. “Sugar?” At Jess’s nod, Evie stirred some into both cups. “As for your disguise on this adventure, I preferred the auburn-colored wig. I think it looks best with your ivory skin tone and is a lovely contrast for your blue eyes. Which was your favorite?”
Jess was still pondering Evie’s mention of her lack of parents. It seemed, however, that Evie didn’t wish to discuss that as she had moved on rather quickly.
Jess picked up a sandwich. “I liked that one too.”
“Good, I’ll make sure you have a few hairstyles in that shade to choose from. Two for day and one for evening. You’ll need to replace ornamentation as necessary. Now, let us discuss your comportment. Can you think of ways in which you might change the way you carry yourself or the manner in which you speak? Perhaps you can lower your tone or alter your accent.”
“Like this?” Jess spoke slightly higher and used the soft lilt of a Welsh accent, mimicking her long-time governess, Miss Evans.
Evie’s chestnut brows shot up. “That’s quite good. Are you going to be Welsh?”
“I thought I might. Just to be different.” Jess assumed she should ask Lord Fallin. Perhaps their accents needed to match. She just hoped they wouldn’t use his—her Scottish brogue wasn’t very good.
“Your task is to use that accent as much as possible over the next several days so that it becomes second nature. Now, how can you move differently?”
Jess’s mother’s voice echoed in her head:“Walk slower and take smaller steps, Jessamine!”Before her first Season, moderating her movements had been thoroughly schooled into her brain. “I could just walk as I normally do.”
Evie’s brow knitted. “The point is not to look or behave likeyou.”
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Jess stood and walked across the drawing room in the manner her mother had demanded. She took slow, measured steps, careful not to permit her gait to be too long. “This is how I walk in Society.” Reaching the other side of the room, she pivoted and returned to the table, walking as she did outside of Society and her mother’s company. “This is my normal gait.”
“Ah, I see the difference. The former is more elegant, but you aren’t being presented to the Queen. Can you throw your shoulders back a bit more and elevate your chin? Adopt an almost haughty demeanor, as if you dare anyone to say you aren’t walking appropriately.”
This made Jess laugh. “I’d love to do that in front of my mother. Perhaps she might finally be rendered speechless.” Jess doubted that was possible as she plucked one of the flower cakes from the tray and popped it into her mouth. Doing that in addition to the walkmightshock her mother into silence.
“Mothers can be so very demanding,” Evie said. “Often it is born of love, however.”
That wasn’t the case with Jess’s mother. She’d never uttered a word about love in all of Jess’s life. “Perhaps you speak of your own experience. My mother isn’t troubled by sentiment.”
