Reforming the Rake. Sarah Barnwell Elliott

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СКАЧАТЬ Ellie.” But as Eleanor headed into the house, Beatrice nudged her brother. “Ben?”

      “Hmm?” he mumbled, half-asleep.

      “Do you think Louisa will be terribly peeved because we’re late? It’ll be eleven by the time we arrive.”

      He grunted. “Tell Louisa to go to the devil. I’m not going.”

      “Ben! I can’t tell her that!”

      “You can. What’s the worst she can do?”

      “Kill the messenger.”

      He turned to his sister, his head lolled back against the seat, grinning unrepentantly. “It’s a bloody boring affair, Beatrice, and I’ve already done you one favor for the evening. No one should be forced to be in the same room as that Teasdale gorgon. You wouldn’t go yourself, if you weren’t scared of Louisa.” He winked at her.

      “I am not scared of her, Ben! You don’t have to stay with her all season—imagine sharing a house with that woman when she’s angry. Besides…” Beatrice paused for a moment, grasping for words. “It’s just that, well…I really should go. I have a certain responsibility.”

      He shook his head in disgust. “I’m glad I’m not a girl.”

      “Why’s that?” Beatrice snorted. “There’s actually more pressure on you, you know—you’re the one who has to produce an heir.”

      Ben shuddered in distaste. “Let’s not discuss this subject now. I have plans for later and have to get going. Mind if John brings me home in the carriage? It’ll be back by the time you’re ready to go.”

      Beatrice shrugged. “Have a pleasant evening, Ben.” I won’t, she miserably added to herself as she climbed from the carriage.

      Her feet trailed reluctantly for the first few steps, but the prospect of Louisa’s temper prodded her into action. By the time she reached the front door, she had broken into a full-fledged run. Humphries, Louisa’s butler, held the door open, waiting for her with a smile.

      “Good evening, Miss Sinclair.”

      “Good evening, Humphries!” she called back, racing past him and flying up the stairs. He didn’t blink an eye. He was used to her last-minute mad dashes.

      Once in her room, Beatrice rang for her lady’s maid, Meg, but wasted no time in removing her clothes on her own, a feat much easier said than done. By the time Meg arrived, Beatrice’s gown was halfway over her head and she was stuck inside of it; she couldn’t undo the buttons on her own and had decided to see if she could simply wiggle it off over her head.

      She could not.

      “Do you need help, Miss Beatrice?” Meg asked from the doorway.

      “Obviously I need help. Pull!” Beatrice ordered in a muffled voice, one arm pinned behind her back, one held uncomfortably above her head.

      Meg took a second to assess the situation. Beatrice was writhing about like a caught fish. “Stand still for a moment, dear. Let’s try this in the conventional fashion.” And with that, Meg yanked the gown back down, smiled at Beatrice’s flushed face and proceeded to unbutton.

      “Meg, you’ve saved my life. I don’t know what I would do without you. Louisa will have been expecting me for nearly an hour already, and you know how annoyed she gets whenever she is…”

      “Annoyed?” Meg murmured helpfully. Few people would dare to mock Louisa, but Meg had been in the family long enough to dare most things. She’d begun as Beatrice’s governess, but had become her lady’s maid and companion once Beatrice had outgrown the schoolroom.

      Beatrice just grinned. “That’s it exactly, Meg, although I suppose I can’t blame her this time. If I’d known I would still have to go to the Teasdales’, I would never have promised Eleanor that I’d go to the theater. I’ll look perfectly exhausted by the time I reach the ball. Is that my new gown on the bed? I do hope it came out all right. Perhaps I’ll wear it tonight.”

      Meg smiled. Beatrice had not yet seen the completed ball gown, as it had been a rush order from her modiste. “It came out beautifully, Miss Beatrice. The fabric matches your eyes perfectly.”

      “You mean brown?” Beatrice asked doubtfully.

      “Not just brown, goose,” Meg replied, lifting the gown from the bed with a flourish.

      Beatrice’s mouth dropped open in surprise. The gown wasn’t brown at all. It was closer to gold, or even amber. The neck was square-cut, and the high Empire waist would accentuate her tall, slender form.

      She turned to her maid. “Meg, it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever owned—do you think it’s all right for me to wear such a dark shade, though?”

      Meg snorted. “It doesn’t matter at this point. You wore enough pastels your first three seasons, and besides, light colors wash you out.”

      Beatrice looked slightly crestfallen. “Do you suppose that’s why I never managed to get married? Was I not looking my best?”

      “You’re being too hard on yourself, Miss Beatrice,” Meg replied. Beatrice was beyond beautiful, but had never managed to realize that fact. “If I recall, it wasn’t that no one asked you to marry them, but rather that you refused all who asked.”

      “Only in my first season, Meg. I really did want to get married after that.”

      “Of course you did,” she replied, not believing a word of it. She pulled the gown over Beatrice’s head and began buttoning it up the back. “But I can’t remember you ever mentioning being in love.”

      “Well…” Beatrice began guiltily, “I tried to be.”

      Meg clucked. “You did the right thing, dear. You shouldn’t marry just because it’s what you’re supposed to do. More girls should follow your example.”

      “Meg,” Beatrice countered, “that would mean the end of the human race.”

      “Pessimist.”

      “How do I look?”

      Meg frankly assessed her for a moment. “Stunning—just a slight adjustment to the hair…there. You look beautiful. Here are your gloves.”

      “Meg, you are a queen.”

      “And you, Miss Beatrice, are late as usual. Stop chatting and move.”

      Beatrice ran out the door with a wave. She barely missed crashing into Humphries as she dashed down the steps to the door, causing him to spin around in surprise.

      “So sorry, Humphries…I’m in a dreadful rush.”

      “Think nothing of it, Miss Sinclair. Your aunt is not one to be kept waiting. Please, continue rushing. John will be along shortly with the carriage.”

      Beatrice peeked out the doorway. “I think I see him coming now. Thank you, Humphries. I’ll just step outside. Good night.” She didn’t even wait for him to close the door for her, but СКАЧАТЬ