Page 47 of Tempting the Earl

“Someday.” Ainsworth smiled. “But not tonight. I think people would notice and then I’d be called out for sending a decoy in my place.”

“I guess you’ll just have to go and find some way to enjoy yourself,” Caillie concluded with a triumphant grin.

Ainsworth sighed.

In truth, she was looking forward to the evening just as much as she was dreading it. When she’d been the young daughter of a baron, she’d dreamed of parties and balls about as much as Caillie did. After everything changed, socializing had seemed such a trivial thing when another person depended on her for their very life and happiness. But that didn’t mean she didn’t sometimes imagine over the years what such diversions might be like. Dinner party conversations, flirtations, dancing!

She glanced over her shoulder at the gown. The diaphanous skirts were perfectly designed for swirling about in a waltz. And the matching slippers would likely make her feel as though she were floating on air.

But even if there was dancing at tonight’s party, who on earth would want to partner her?

She knew no one. She certainly wasn’t a fresh young beauty. She could possibly imagine Mr. Bentley asking her to dance simply out of politeness. But how embarrassing would that be? To dance only one dance with the host of the evening?

Her cheeks burned.

She’d thought such things didn’t matter to her. But apparently her pride had other ideas.

Oh well. Best to anticipate the worst and avoid any disappointment. The evening would no doubt be a social disaster for her, but at least she could bring home some detailed descriptions and maybe an anecdote or two for Caillie’s amusement.

“There you are, miss. Quite lovely, I think,” Gracie noted as she gave a final pat to Ainsworth’s coiffure.

Caillie made a soft sound of awe as she came to stand beside her in the mirror.

Smiling at the girl’s reaction, Ainsworth passed an assessing gaze over her reflection.

It was more than lovely, to be honest. Gracie had worked magic with the thick, unruly tresses. Ainsworth had long ago despaired of managing any truly sophisticated style with hair that was neither curly nor straight but somewhere in between. But tonight, it had been transformed into an elegant mass of twists and braids wound through with ribbons in the same shade as her gown. A few wispy tendrils had been left to tease her nape and float against her cheeks, but rather than making it look untidy, they added a sort of natural softness to the intricate coiffure.

“The gown, Worthy,” Caillie urged. “Quickly. I just have to see the full effect.”

Gracie settled the soft material carefully over Ainsworth’s head, then started securing the tiny buttons. It fit like a dream, though perhaps she should have asked Madame to ensure a more modest bodice as the neckline seemed stunningly low.

Gracie might have agreed as she tilted her head to the side. “A necklace, I think, would complement the gown well.”

She was right. But Ainsworth didn’t have any jewelry. The few pieces she’d inherited from her mother had been left behind at Faeglen as she hadn’t considered she might have use for them.

As though reading her thoughts, Gracie leaned forward to pick up a ribbon that had hadn’t been used in her hair. Slipping it around Ainsworth’s neck, she tied a quick bow at her nape. It was an undeniably simple adornment, but it seemed to work.

Ainsworth smiled her thanks then sat to slide on her slippers.

“The evening could end up being a late night, lass, so I want you to promise you willnae try to wait up for me. I’ll tell you all about the party in the morning.”

“You dinnae seriously think I’m going to be able to fall asleep?”

“I do, actually,” Ainsworth said as she stood and bent to give the girl a kiss on the forehead just as the clock struck the hour. She’d been told the carriage was ready and waiting a half hour ago already, but her hair had taken a bit longer than expected. “Now, I’d better not dally any longer. Good night, luv.”

“Promise to have a lovely time. For my sake, please.”

“I shall do my absolute best.” Ainsworth gave a quick wave then rushed from the room.

Lifting her skirts in both hands, she strode swiftly along the hall then dashed down the grand stairway. She told herself it was the new slippers and not a tingling dose of anticipation that made her steps so light.

As she stepped onto the marble floor of the hall, she looked up, expecting to see Shaw waiting near the door with her cloak.

But it wasn’t Shaw. It was the earl.

Dressed in black evening wear with his boots polished to a perfect shine, his snowy cravat tied in an intricate knot beneath his square, dimpled chin, his hair artfully tousled, and his striking blue eyes focused intently on her.

Chapter Sixteen

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