She loved the gardens best in the spring. They weren’t at their peak yet. Lady Thurston preferred the rich colors of fall blooms over the soft, bright shades of spring. But for Mirabelle, there was nothing so beautiful as the first signs of life. She could, and sometimes did, spend hours walking the paths, finding and delighting in those first green shoots and buds struggling through the soil or the remains of last year’s growth.
It was comforting in a way, to know the plants had been there all along, waiting out the cold, dark winter until the sun warmed the ground again, giving them the opportunity to grow and bloom.
She thought of her five-thousand-pound inheritance. Less than two years, and winter would be over for her, as well. A woman could do a great deal of growing and blooming with five thousand pounds at her disposal.
“Staring at the larkspur won’t make it grow any faster,” Whit said from behind her.
She turned to find him not five feet away. “I hadn’t realized you were standing there.”
“I’m not surprised, you seemed lost in your thoughts.”
“I was,” she admitted before gesturing at the plant she’d been staring at without realizing it. “You know their names, then?”
“Only so far as my mother used to chastise Alex and I for playing in them. The roses, mostly, as there’s something about thorny bushes that draws small boys like moths to flame. Nearly as irresistible as mud.”
“I wonder why that is?” She laughed.
“One of the great mysteries of life.” He tilted his head at her. “You look a picture, you know, standing in the garden with the sunlight in your hair.”
“Oh.” She felt her cheeks growing hot. Would he kiss her again, she wondered, and immediately wished she hadn’t, since it only served to make her cheeks grow hotter. “Um…thank you.”
Straightening, clearly enjoying himself, he gripped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Not accustomed to compliments in general, or just not from me?”
Not accustomed to wondering if I’ll be kissed, she thought, but what she said was, “Both, I suppose.”
He took a step closer to her. “An unforgivable oversight.”
Perhaps he
would
kiss her, and because she found it impossible to make room for any thought beyond that, she once again said, “Oh. Er…thank you?”
He chuckled softly and took another step. “You’re welcome. Won’t you take a step forward, imp? I wouldn’t mind kissing you, but I’d rather we kiss each other again.”
“Oh…er—”
“Don’t thank me.”
“What? No, of course not. Um…” She dragged her foot one miniscule inch forward, then brought the other up to match.
Whit glanced down at her feet and smiled. “It’s a start, I suppose. But I’ve taken two, you’ll recall.”
“Two. Right.” She begin to scoot her foot forward again, then stopped. “This is absurd.”
“I’ll say. If your sole doesn’t leave the ground this time, I’m not counting it.”
She choked back a laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” she said suddenly.
His expression remained somewhere between bland and faintly amused. “Don’t you? I’d have thought it obvious. Didn’t I just mention kissing?”
“No. I mean, yes, you did.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “But why do you want to kiss me?”
“We’re going to kiss each other.”
“Yes, and I know why
I
want to—”
“Do tell.”
She ignored that. “But why do you? Up until a few days ago, you hated me.”
He recoiled a bit at the accusation. “That’s something of an overstatement, don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. “You sometimes looked physically ill when your mother made you dance with me.”
“That wasn’t hate,” he argued. “That was fear.”
“I’m in earnest.”
“So am I. You can be quite fierce, you know.”
She bit her lip, uncertain of what to say.
Whit studied her face. “I’ve never hated you, Mirabelle. There were times I’ve badly wanted to muzzle you, but I’ve never hated you.” He swallowed hard. “Did you hate me?”
She opened her mouth, not to speak, but in surprise, then turned her head and nodded thoughtfully.
“Dear God,” he whispered, appalled, “you did.”
“What?” She started and blinked. “Oh! Oh, no…I was thinking of something else.”
“One would think this conversation was significant enough to warrant a person’s full attention,” he grumbled.
“It does. It has. I was considering my own behavior, and how it could have led you to believe I didn’t care for you…that is…”
Oh, how mortifying.
Whit didn’t seem to notice her discomfiture. He simply nodded in understanding and closed the distance between them.
His head slowly bent down to hers until she could smell the faintest hint of coffee on his breath. She liked that, she decided, closing her eyes. She liked it very much.
“Mira! Mira, are you out here?” Kate’s voice, not far down the path, had her jerking back.
“We’ll finish this another time,” Whit whispered against her lips before stepping away. No sooner had he retreated, than Kate came into view. “There you are. Evie thought you’d be in the library, but I knew you’d be here this time of year. Good morning, Whit.”
Because his sister’s bright smile and distracted eyes never failed to both touch and amuse, Whit bent to kiss the top of her head in greeting.
“Good morning,” he returned. “It’s early for you and Evie to be up, isn’t it?”
“Mother wants help with some last-minute arrangements for the ball. Will you come, Mira?”
“Er…Yes, of course.”
Kate took her hand and began tugging her down the path. “I’d make myself scarce if I were you, Whit. She’s looking for someone to take the ladies into town for a spot of shopping.”
Last-minute arrangements turned out to be everything from greeting and settling the musicians to overseeing candle replacement in the half-dozen ballroom chandeliers.
Morning gave way to midday, and it was past time for tea when Mirabelle finally made it back to her room.
She’d barely started to wash up a bit when Kate knocked on her door and, carrying a gown of pale blue, let herself in.
“Would you like this? I bought it because mother insisted the color matched my eyes, but it doesn’t in the least, and I’m a hair too tall for the cut as well.” She frowned thoughtfully at the dress. “It’s not like Madame Duvalle to make mistakes. I wonder if she has a new girl working for her.”
“Why don’t you bring it back and have her fix it?”
Kate looked appalled. “I’ll not be responsible for having some poor girl sacked.”
“Give it to Lizzy, then.”
“I tried,” she replied. “But she has more gowns from me and Evie than she knows what to do with. She says she has a pile of dresses to sell already, and if Evie and I give her one more, she’ll quit our employ and open a shop. Won’t you at least try it on, Mira? I hate to think of it going to waste or—”
“All right!” Mirabelle laughed and took the gown. “Lord, I’ve never met a more convincing babbler in my life.”
“I’ve many gifts, babbling is but one of them.” Kate made a shooing movement. “Go and try it on.”
Mirabelle stepped behind a screen and replaced her old gown with the new one. It took a bit of work. “It’s too tight,” she decided yanking on the material. “My stays show, and my chemise bunches terribly.”
“It’s not a dress one wears with stays,” Kate called.
“Oh.” She shimmied out of the half-corset and tried again. “My chemise is still bunching, and it’s too light a material to go without one. I’m afraid it just won’t work. Pity too—it’s lovely.”
“What a shame…Oh! Why don’t you try it with your new chemise underneath?”
“Will that work, do you think?” she asked stepping out from behind the screen.
“It can’t hurt to try.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Mirabelle rummaged through an armoire and pulled out the box from Madame Duvalle’s. It took her a moment to untie the triple knot, but eventually she succeeded in freeing the blue cloth. “It looks to be near the same color. A bit darker perhaps, but the same hue.”
She stepped behind the screen and changed yet again, slipping the new chemise on with a sigh of pleasure as the soft material brushed her skin.
“It’s the most heavenly thing,” she murmured.
“What’s that?”
“The chemise, it’s wonderful. I may start sleeping in it.”
“What if there’s a fire?”
“A very good point.” She pulled the dress on next. “It fits,” she said, a bit stunned. “It fits perfectly. It even covers the scratches on my shoulder.”
“Let me see,” Kate needled.
Mirabelle stepped out from the screen, still gazing down at the gown. It was simply cut with puff sleeves and only a wide band of ribbon along the hem for decoration, but it was far more fashionable than anything she could normally afford. The blue material appeared even paler than when Kate had first handed it to her, and there was a sheerness to it that allowed the darker chemise to show from underneath, giving the overall effect of layered colors.
“Oh, Mira. It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Yes. You’ll wear it to night, won’t you? And you’ll let Lizzy fix your hair.”
“I don’t know…” She caught sight of herself in the mirror and grinned. The gown nearly glowed. “All right…Yes, all right.”
“Excellent. Why don’t we have tea here, then? It’ll save us time. I’ll just go tell the others.”
When Kate left Mirabelle’s room, it was to discover an eager Lizzy standing in the hall. “She take it, miss?” the maid asked in a rushed whisper.
Kate hooked her arm through Lizzy’s and headed to their rooms. “Were you eavesdropping, Lizzy?”
“Of course I was,” the maid said, completely unrepentant. “But I couldn’t make out but every third word.”
“I expected better from you,” Kate chided. “You should have brought a glass to press against the door.”
“There wasn’t one handy, and Cook would have my head if I took one out of the kitchen. Did she take it?”
“Did Cook take what?”
“No, Miss Browning, and the dress.”
“Oh. She did.” Kate patted her friend’s arm. “It was a clever scheme you concocted.”
“Not so difficult, seeing as how she and I are of a size and Madame Dupree likes nothing better than a challenge and a secret.”
“And a sizable fee from my mother.”
“That as well.” Lizzy agreed. “I wager that dress fit her like a dream.”
“It did, indeed.”
They walked together in companionable silence for a time before Lizzy spoke again. “Lady Kate?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you still have that novel where the lady’s maid dies for her mistress?”
“Lord, no,” Kate laughed. “One read-through of
Lady Charlotte the Cowardly and Her Prodigiously Stupid Maid
was enough for me. Why?” Kate stopped and gawked at her. “Never say you
liked
that book?”
“No.” Lizzy smiled and started them forward again. “No, I didn’t.”
S
he wasn’t beautiful.
Mirabelle knew she was not a beautiful woman, and no amount of blue silk or hair pins would change that fact. But for the first time in her life, she realized that she wasn’t quite as plain as she had always imagined either. In fact, to night she looked decidedly—pretty. Certainly there was a world of difference between being beautiful and being pretty. Mirabelle ran her fingers down the silk at her waist and hips without attempting to hide her grin. After all, there was an equally large difference between being pretty and being plain, and she had certainly leapt to the winning side of that gap to night.
“It’s the smile, you know.”
Mirabelle turned around at the sound of Kate’s voice to find her friends watching her reaction.
“Your smile,” Kate repeated. “It’s one of your best features.”
“It’s true,” Sophie agreed. “It completes the picture.”
“Like the finale of a good symphony.”
Mirabelle beamed at Kate’s comment but shook her head in denial. “I’m no symphony,” she replied before returning her attention to the mirror. Catching sight of her friends’ disgruntled reflections she added, “but I’ll not argue against a sonata.”
The girls laughed before Kate cocked her head thoughtfully to one side and said, “Do you know, I think that’s the very reason I’ve never thought of Miss Willory as truly
beautiful? She never smiles with her eyes. Her expressions are always so practiced, so calculated.”
“Like a tavern ditty without the invectives,” Evie offered.
“A pointless endeavor,” Sophie agreed laughing. “Rather sad.”
Kate rolled her eyes but appeared amused nonetheless. “Come on, Sophie, Evie, we need to get ready. I’d hug you, Mira, but I’m afraid to muss you.”
“I had planned on being a dramatic opera,” Evie remarked casually. “But I think I’ll aim for a wicked sailor’s tune instead. Curses included. That should put Miss Willory’s nose out of joint.”
Mirabelle laughed and waved her friends out the door with one final reassurance that she would do nothing to endanger all their hard work.
Because she hadn’t the startling looks or the inherent talent for drama that some of the other young women possessed, Mirabelle’s entrance into the ballroom that night went largely unnoticed. Except, of course, by her friends—and Whit.
“That can’t be…is that…
Mirabelle?
”
“You look a little surprised, Whit,” Kate commented casually, her eyes sparkling.
Whit brought his drink up for a long swallow. “What the devil happened to her?”
“Nothing too remarkable,” remarked Sophie. “Just a new dress, and Kate insisted on Lizzy doing Mira’s hair to night. Excellent job she did of it too.”
“Didn’t she?” Kate agreed.
Whit finished his drink. Just a dress?
Just
a dress! The garment in question was a concoction of pale blue silk that flattered Mirabelle to perfection. The cut hugged her subtle curves faultlessly—and the color made her skin look like fresh cream and her dark eyes shine brighter than he had ever seen them.
And when a man begins thinking a woman’s dark eyes could shine brightly, he was well and truly sunk.