Page 9 of A Trickster’s Temptation

Beautiful was definitely too much. But as Mary looked at herself in the mirror, lifting up one hand to touch her hair, she had to admit that she looked different. Different, and… well, pleasant.

The gown had been optimistically purchased for her by her mother and father six months before, and had never been worn once. Now that Mary had taken it to the modiste and ordered certain adjustments to be made, namely a bright red ribbon and a lowering of the bodice that had made the modiste raise her eyebrows until Mary had given her more coins than strictly necessary, it looked like a completely different garment.

More to the point, she looked like a completely different person when she wore it. Especially with rouge added to her cheeks—just a touch, administered by a giggling Winnie who had kept threatening to smear the red paste all over Mary’s face—and dye added to her hair, her usual dark mop now an arresting auburn that made Mary blink whenever she caught sight of it.

Thank goodness she’d convinced her parents to spend a week with her mother’s sister in Bath, assuring them that she needed seven days of quiet rest at home before the vigours of the Season truly asserted themselves. That had given her the time to gather together her materials, including the rouge and the dye along with careful instructions as to how to remove said dye. And thank goodness that Abigail and Winnie had been so eager to help her try on this gown and help her use her strange new beauty aids—although, unfortunately, they were curious in a way that Mary didn’t quite know how to dampen without seeming suspicious.

‘If only we had an occasion tonight.’ Winnie folded her arms. ‘It seems like such a waste to have you dressed so beautifully for no reason.’

‘We could make an occasion of it.’ Abigail leaned forward, smiling. ‘We could ask Cook to make something exciting and light candles in the library. Would your parents mind so very much, Mary?’

‘Unfortunately, I doubt they’ll allow me to have guests so late. One of the neighbours will tell them when they return, and I’ll be forced to attend some dreadfully dull party in recompense.’ Mary’s mother and father didn’t mind in the slightest who visited Mary or how long they stayed for, but they were a convenient scapegoat. ‘A pity, but nothing can be done.’

‘You could disobey your parents.’ Winnie looked at her appealingly. ‘Tell them your poor invalid friend has desperate need of company, given how grim her year has been so far.’

‘Oh, Winnie, that isn’t fair.’

‘I know. But then, my weak lungs are hardly fair—I can be unfair in turn.’ Winnie rolled her eyes. ‘Forgive me, Mary. But I am having the most fun I’ve had since that dreadful doctor visited and told me that I would be unable to walk by thirty.’

‘That doctor was a charlatan, and your mother and father told him so.’ Abigail spoke quietly and gravely. ‘And Marcus’ physician has told you since that you will be capable of doing everything you can do now until you are old and grey.’

‘I know. And I thank you.’ Winnie laughed, but the sound was sad. ‘Unfortunately, my cursed brain remembers bad news far more easily than it does good.’

‘We—we can all stay here together if you like, Winnie.’ A fierce tide of disappointment rose and fell in Mary, but the potential guilt of not aiding a friend in her hour of need was greater than anything else. ‘After all, I—I wasn’t going to do anything with my evening.’

‘Oh, nonsense.’ Winnie grinned. ‘I know how you love to sit alone and enjoy not doing anything that you’ve been made to do. I think it’s more peaceful than church for you.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. That makes me sound as if I’m unwell.’

‘You do need to be alone, Mary.’ Abigail’s tone had acquired the slightly bossy air that impending motherhood seemed to give to every woman sooner or later; Mary fought the urge to laugh. ‘You’re always so reserved around other people. I don’t believe you ever freely exercise your sentiments under someone else’s eyes.’

‘That’s not true. I exercise my sentiments around the both of you.’

‘Only rarely.’ Winnie shrugged. ‘And with Mr. Hart, of course.’

Oh, Lord, they know. They know!‘Beg pardon?’

‘You’re always horrible to him.’ Winnie paused. ‘But he’s always horrible to you, in a smug, amusing way, so I suppose it’s only fair to be horrible in return.’

Thank God. Winnie hadn’t seen the change in relations between her and Mr. Hart, then. Mary tried to nod in a carefree fashion, removing an imaginary speck of dust from the bodice of her gown with a finger that trembled just a little. ‘I suppose.’

‘Why are you so horrible to him?’

‘He’s distasteful.’

‘Hardly.’ Abigail paused. ‘It must be a simple, physical opposition of character. You and Mr. Hart are formed to not like one another.’

‘… Yes. I imagine that’s it.’

‘Is the bodice a little too tight, Mary? You’re growing red.’

‘Oh, I—I think it’s a little too tight, but nothing to worry about.’ Just when on earth had she become a person who blushed? ‘Now, would the two of you like some more tea?’

‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Winnie yawned. ‘If I have any more tea I’ll grow into a tea bush. But at least let us help you get all that paint off your face and get you into a comfortable gown and shawl before we leave.’

‘No! No.’ If Abigail and Winnie somehow managed to manhandle her into her nightgown, it would take an hour to get ready again. More to the point, she would do a far worse job of getting dressed alone and at the last minute. ‘I’ll enjoy my finery for a little longer. But you two are growing tired—don’t let me detain you any longer.’

Abigail and Winnie eventually left, their carriage still ringing with shouted compliments about Mary’s general appearance as the horses whinnied and began to trot. Mary watched it leave from the front door, determinedly ignoring the butler’s confused looks at her gown and new shade of hair, then went back upstairs at a slightly quicker pace than normal.

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