Undressed by the Rebel. Alison Roberts

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      Chapter One

      Los Angeles, 1896

      Another wedding. Her third in as many months. Could she really be expected to show excitement about yet another trip down the aisle?

      At least none of the weddings had been her own.

      Trying to look interested in the chatter of the three other young women in the bedchamber, Amanda Van Patton eased onto the foot of her friend’s bed and gripped the carved post. Trousseaus, invitations, china patterns. Amanda feared she might scream if she heard those words one more time.

      “ Oh, and look at this.” Cecilia Hastings, the bride-to-be, pulled another trousseau gown from her massive redwood closet and held it in front of her.

      It was a promenade dress, pale teal with a matching parasol and hat that Amanda admitted would look wonderful on Cecilia, with her dark hair and green eyes. Another round of “ oohs” and “ aahs” rippled from the other women. Amanda managed an “ oh, lovely.”

      Perhaps if she weren’t so tired she might enjoy this impromptu fashion show, she decided, as Cecilia emerged from her closet with a lavender-and-ivory afternoon dress. Amanda had just arrived at the Hastings mansion in the West Adams district of Los Angeles, making the trip from her home in San Francisco in her uncle’s private railroad car. She had already had a busy day before she’d set out on this journey.

      “ Oh, it’s darling,” she murmured as Cecilia presented another promenade dress. While the other two women in the room—friends of Cecilia’s whose names Amanda had already forgotten—fawned over the pink creation and its wide-brimmed, white hat with matching flowers, Amanda kept her seat.

      No, she wasn’t tired, she admitted to herself. Only bored.

      She glanced out the window at the moonlight illuminating the darkness and wondered how much longer she’d have to sit here before she could tactfully retire for the evening.

      And why shouldn’t she be bored? She’d just gone through this with her cousins—twice.

      Since she was thirteen, Amanda had lived with her aunt and uncle and their four daughters in their Nob Hill mansion. Uncle Philip’s wealth had given the family the best of everything—culminating in her cousins’ weddings.

      The twins, a few years younger than Amanda, had married within weeks of each other. Prior to that the Van Patton household had been in chaos for an entire year. Flower selection, dressmakers, menus, musicians and the endless stream of tedious details required to stage a wedding had been the topic of conversation morning, noon and night.

      As a bridesmaid for both of her cousins, Amanda had been dragged through each facet of the planning. She’d managed to keep a smile on her face—in public, anyway—through the whole ordeal. She wasn’t sure she could do it much longer.

      She drew in a fortifying breath as Cecilia whirled around the bedchamber holding a pale yellow ball gown in front of her, and the other young women broke into applause.

      “Radiant…” Amanda said, calling upon her considerable store of bridal compliments.

      Luckily, Cecilia’s wedding ceremony was only two days away. Amanda straightened her shoulders. Somehow, she’d get through it. She had to.

      After all, she was the sole representative of the Van Patton family present at the Hastings-St. John wedding. Both of her cousins were still off on their own honeymoons, and Aunt Veronica had come down with a case of the hives at the last minute. Uncle Philip was too busy—or too smart—to attend weddings.

      That left only Amanda to put in an appearance on behalf of the Van Pattons at what one Los Angeles newspaper’s society column had already proclaimed “the wedding of the season.” The prominence and wealth of the Hastings family allowed for no less.

      Amanda pulled her lips upward, forcing a smile as Cecilia headed into the closet once more.

      If it hadn’t been a wedding that brought Amanda to Los Angeles she probably would have enjoyed the trip. The Hastings and Van Patton families had been friends for years. They visited back and forth, hosted each other on holidays and occasionally vacationed together. The time they spent together had diminished in the past few years, since Cecilia’s father had died, and everyone had grown older and moved on with life.

      But the families stayed in touch. They had, in fact, known each other for more years than Amanda had been part of the San Francisco branch of the Van Patton family. She’d only been sent to live with them eleven years ago when, at age thirteen, her father had passed away and her mother had fallen on hard times.

      Amanda had been accepted into the family, even if she hadn’t fit in very well.

      “Breathtaking,” she muttered now as Cecilia displayed her going-away dress, a cream-colored ensemble trimmed with green flowers and lace.

      While the other women circled the gown, commenting on the fabric and cut, Amanda cast a furtive glance toward the clock on the marble mantel above the fireplace. After eleven already. Surely this would end soon—even Cecilia Hastings couldn’t have that many more dresses to display.

      As if her thoughts had somehow conjured up a tangible excuse for escape, the bedchamber door burst open and a stout woman with well-coiffed gray hair steamed in. She planted herself in the center of the room, silencing all the young women abruptly, and turned to Cecilia.

      “What did you dream last night?” she demanded.

      Cecilia paused, holding her black-and-white lace riding habit before her. “Aunt Winnie, where have you been all day?”

      “Busy. Very busy,” she declared, waving her hands. “Now, what did you dream last night?”

      Cecilia gestured toward Amanda, who rose to her feet. This was a member of the Hastings family she’d never met.

      “Aunt Winnie, this is Amanda Van Patton,” Cecilia said. “My aunt, Winnifred Dubois from New York.”