“He’s upset, of course, but once he learns the depth of his mother’s feelings for the man, he’ll hopefully become more accepting of her marriage, or you’ll find a way to persuade her to at least pause and reconsider. Either way, I hope you can find a way to enjoy yourself a little bit, while we are here?”
She thought of the superior Lady David, the dark, arrogant Torquil, and the task that would be required of her, and she doubted there would be much enjoyment to be found. But she looked into her sister’s face, and refrained from expressing such a gloomy opinion. “I will try,” she said instead. “If only to please you.”
Clara smiled, pleased already. “Good,” she said and gestured to their surroundings. “Do you mind if I have the first bathe?”
“Not at all. I shall unpack. After all,” she added as she turned and started back to her own room, “since we are so déclassé as to possess no maid, we have to undertake that task ourselves. Oh, the horror!”
Leaving Clara laughing, she returned to her room and put the walking suits, tea gowns, ball gowns, and undergarments Clara had insisted she would need in the armoire. The boxes containing her shoes and slippers she placed on the bottom shelf, and the ones containing hats she placed on top. She also made use of the room’s chiffonier cupboard for her shirtwaists, skirts, and underthings.
She laid out her new blue silk evening gown on the bed, then crossed to the bathroom, where her knock went unanswered. Taking a peek inside, she found the room empty, but still steamy, showing that her sister had made good use of the hot water. She decided to do the same, and as Irene sank into the depths of a warm bath a short time later, she was forced to admit that staying in Torquil’s house for two weeks did have one favorable aspect.
“Ah,” she groaned with pleasure, leaning back and closing her eyes, the tension in her shoulders easing a bit. “Now this I could get used to.”
Somehow she drifted off, a fact she realized only when a knock from Clara roused her from her blissful lethargy.
“Irene?”
She jerked upright in the tub, appreciating that the water was now cold and her fingertips wrinkly. How long had she been in here?
“What’s happened?” Clara asked, and even through the closed door, Irene could hear her sister laughing. “Did you fall asleep?”
“Of course not,” she lied, rising to her feet. “What time is it?”
“Half past six.”
Heavens, she’d been in here nearly three quarters of an hour. She dried off, an action that didn’t take long, for the towel was composed of the softest, most luxurious cotton she’d ever felt, and it wicked the water from her body easy as winking. When she slipped into her wrapper a few moments later, the muslin didn’t even stick to her skin.
She gathered up her discarded clothes and returned to her room. She donned her underclothes, using the brass knob of her footboard to assist her in lacing her corset tightly enough, then she donned the skirt and bodice of her evening frock, put up her hair, and passed through the bathroom to knock on her sister’s door. “Clara, I need buttoning up.”
At her sister’s urging to come in, she opened the door. “I’m sure you do, too,” she went on as she entered the room, but the words were barely out of her mouth before she perceived that her sister wasn’t even close to needing her help.
Clara was standing before her dressing mirror in her underclothes, one of her three newly purchased evening gowns clasped in front of her. The other two lay strewn across the bed, along with a variety of petticoats, corsets, and stockings.
“What’s all this?”
“Too many choices!” Clara turned, spreading out the skirt of the celadon-green brocade gown she was holding. “What do you think?”
“Very pretty.”
“That’s the same exact thing you said at Debenham and Freebody this afternoon.”
“And it’s still true. All the dresses you bought are pretty.”
“But which evening dress is the prettiest? On our first night, I want to make the most favorable impression I can.”
“The pink, then. Pink always suits you best.”
Clara cast aside the green brocade, picked up the bodice and skirt of pink silk, and held them up to the mirror. After a moment, she gave a satisfied nod and began to dress. When she’d finished donning her own gown, Clara did up the hooks down the back of Irene’s, then turned so her sister could do the same for her.
“There,” Irene said as she fastened the last hook and smoothed the tucks at the back of Clara’s dress. “Who needs a maid anyway? Let’s go down. We can see just what books are in a duke’s library.”
Clara turned away, shaking her head. “You go. I still have to dress my hair.”
She had no intention of letting her sister go down alone. “I’ll wait for you.”
“For heaven’s sake, Irene,” Clara said, sounding exasperated, “I may be a little shy, but I am capable of going down to dinner myself, even in a duke’s house. I don’t need you hovering at my elbow. I’ll join you in the library in a short while.”
“All right, if you’re sure,” she capitulated and started back toward her own room. “Just don’t linger up here too long. Heaven only knows what they’ll think if you’re late to dinner. That would surely be a capital offense.”
