The Virtuous Ward (Sweet Deception Regency #5) (6 page)

"She was glorious, Max," she whispered. "Her name was Divinia and the fashionable set called her 'Goddess Divine.' She was petite, almost doll-like, with enormous periwinkle blue eyes and a soft pink complexion. Her hair was golden, as if the sun's rays were caught in each curl. Everything about her was beautiful."

"And did you love her a great deal?"

"I fear it was much like worship. She was everything I wanted to be," Amity admitted, her voice shaky with emotion. "I was a great disappointment to her."

Max stared down at the veil of tears that filled Amity's eyes and cursed under his breath. Remembering the scrawny child Amity had once been, he could guess as to her mother's reactions, but he suspected from the girl's words that Divinia had not been pleased with her child's looks. Amity appeared to have no awareness of her own potential as far above the touch of most pretty girls. Looking down at his ward, he caught a vulnerability beneath her smiling, sweet nature, a feeling that she was unattractive and that no one really loved her.

Max cursed himself for having neglected the child for so long. She must have been lonely on an isolated estate with no family to love her. He could not undo the damage he had done but he could make up to her for all that she had missed. He would show her that her uncommon looks were to be applauded not dismissed. He would be famly for her, love her like a brother and then she would blossom into the beauty he knew her to be. He leaned foreword and pressed a gentle kiss to her soft, white forehead.

At the press of his lips, Amity smiled in contentment and nestled her cheek into the cushion of his hand. "Then you will arrange for my marriage?"

"First things first," Max said, dropping his hand and reaching once more for the brandy snifter. "One needs go slow, my enthusiastic child. You must learn not to dash into a situation. I am relieved to note that you have lost the habit of knocking things over."

Amity laughed, remembering the first time he had seen her. "It seems to happen when I am nervous. My last governess cautioned me to take a deep breath at every quarter hour and then I would not be so prone to knock things about."

"Did it work?" Max asked.

"No," Amity said, her face an embarrassed grimace. "The first thing I hit was the clock and then I never knew what time it was."

Max chuckled at her remark, but then his face shifted to more sober lines. "Perhaps you should strive to think a little before you leap into action. A lady who desires to be married needs to display qualities that will encourage the gentlemen to see her as the perfect wife. Dignity is the cornerstone for elegant behavior."

"Miss Endicott, my governess, would be delighted to hear you thus advise me," Amity said, wrinkling her nose at his words. She sighed in resignation and looked with gravity into Max's face. "I will try, sir, but there are so many temptations for my attention that I sometimes forget my good intentions."

"Well, my dear, both Cousin Hester and myself will be here to remind you of your obligations. Although you were not aware of my presence I was witness to your arrival today."

Amity blushed at his pejorative tone. He patted her shoulder in a reassuring gesture but she suspected she was in for a lecture. In her mind's eye she could picture Miss Endicott nodding with assurance.

"I could hardly approve your arrival since the entire operation lacked the proper dignity. You should have waited to accept the assistance of the footman from the coach instead of scrambling out as though you had been catapulted."

"But I am neither old nor infirm to need such assistance," she argued. "It seems so silly."

"Rules of propriety are never silly," Max pronounced. "When you descended, your bonnet was askew and your hands were bare."

"I lost my mittens," Amity admitted. "I did not think anyone would notice."

"Whether someone will notice is beside the point. A lady is measured by the attention she pays to the details. It may seem like a small affectation but people set great store by these very trivialities. Omissions of small points of etiquette are a signal that one's manners are superficial, not a part of one's character." Max's voice was encouraging as he continued, "Perhaps, if you have a penchant for losing something, you might consider carrying an extra for emergencies."

"I would have to carry a portmanteau, since I am constantly losing things," Amity muttered. She pushed at a lock of hair that had escaped from the ribbon when she bent her head and tucked it behind her ear.

"And never, Amity," Max's voice was stiff with disapproval, "I repeat, never are you to notice, let alone discuss with a servant, the, eh, personal habits of your dog. A lady is above the flesh."

"Life was very much simpler at Beech House."

"You will learn, my dear," Max said as he smiled down at the girl. "Once you begin to think before you leap into action, things will become rather easier. In the meantime you must cultivate a more formal attitude toward the servants. You must not chatter with them as if they are your friends. They are here to serve you, not entertain you."

Amity had begun to believe that she might be able to learn the ways of the born but had not considered she would be asked to make such a sacrifice. She had always had friends among the servants. At Beech House, they were her only friends. She made no comment but she resolved that she would concentrate on her other faults and perhaps this one area might be overlooked. Raising her head, she smiled at her guardian.

"I shall try to improve my behavior, Max. Truly I will."

"Good show," he said, grateful that she had listened to his criticisms. "I realize that you have had few examples to follow but I hope when you meet Miss Waterston you will consider her demeanor and pattern yourself after her. She has a delicacy of mind and grace of manner that is the essence of the refined gentlewoman."

Amity heard the note of approval in her guardian's voice and vowed to copy the behavior of Honoria to a nicety. She could tell by the expression on Max's face that she must be very special. She wondered if he were in love with her. And now that she was getting to know her guardian, she hoped that if he was, Honoria returned his regard in full measure. It would be most romantic if Max planned to marry. On that happy thought, she was eager to go to London and make the acquaintance of the fashionable Miss Waterston.

Chapter Four

"Come on, Muffin," Amity whispered, nudging the great shaggy animal off the satin loveseat. "It's time for your walk."

Grabbing a handful of fur on his neck, she opened the door and peered into the empty hall. She tiptoed along the runner, the dog beside her, and slipped down the main staircase to the front door. She unlatched it and shoved Muffin out onto the front steps of the London townhouse then closed the door behind her. Breathing in the moist early morning air, she tied the ribbons on her bonnet and searched in the pocket of her pelisse until she discovered her mittens. Pulling them on, she briskly started down the stairs. After an initial hesitancy, Muffin shook his head and padded after her unwilling to be left behind.

Amity knew Max would be furious if he discovered her early morning adventures. Since their arrival in London, he had warned her about disgracing herself with unladylike behavior. She knew it was not proper to be out at such an hour and most especially without either a maid or a footman. However, she had found her entire life so confining that this bit of rebellion helped her to get through the rest of each day. She walked the two blocks to the park, sighing in relief as she entered the gates.

She had discovered the little park on her second day in London and it had become her private refuge. Used to the freedom of the country, she found the buildings and dirt of the city oppressive and needed her spirits renewed in this little plot of greenery.

Off the main paths, she felt safe from any unwanted eyes of the fashionable set. She walked slowly, letting Muffin poke and sniff as much as he wanted. She found a bench in the sun and sat down, calling to the dog. After taking one more investigative sniff of a rather interesting clump of brush, he nestled at her feet.

Untying the ribbons on her bonnet, Amity pulled off the hat and placed it beside her. She turned her face up to the sun, her eyes closed as her skin soaked in the heat. It was a perfect day and she should feel a well of excitement for all that had happened in the last month. But her come out ball was this evening and just the thought of it sent her stomach plummeting to her toes.

"Oh, Muffin, I've been such a fool," Amity moaned. The dog raised his shaggy head and stared at her with soulful eyes. She reached down and stroked his soft fur and he pressed his head against her knee, letting it slide down until it rested on her foot. "It was my pride that done me in, old sport."

For a moment a smile trembled on her lips at her joking tone but then her eyes filled with tears. How was she ever going to get through this evening? Her dress had arrived yesterday and it was a total disaster; SHE would be a total disaster. She had been so foolish in her pride and now she would pay the price for her vanity. But more than her disappointment over the dress was her awareness of Honoria's treachery. As unsophisticated as she was, even she had to acknowledge that the woman she thought had befriended her had indeed betrayed her trust.

Muffin snuffled in his sleep and Amity was reminded of her one loyal friend. She reached into her reticule and pulled out a lacy handkerchief. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, admonishing herself for giving in to such a degree. After all it was her own fault.

Amity had liked Honoria when she first met her. The very fashionable Miss Waterston was five years older with a social manner that Amity envied. Beside the elegant perfection of the blonde woman, she had felt like the veriest gawk, but Max's special lady friend had been charming to her, taking her shopping, and praising her for her fashion sense. Amity had been dazzled by the endless bolts of materials and trimmings at the mantua maker. She had been flattered when Honoria asked her opinion on all the selections. At first she had been hesitant but under the older woman's praise, she gained confidence in her choices. Soon she was giving her imagination full rein, choosing dresses that she had dreamed about over the bleak years at Beech House.

It was only in the last week that Amity first suspected that everything was not what it should be. Madame Bertoldi, the modiste Honoria had brought her to, had become more tightlipped as the fittings continued. It was apparent to Amity that the woman was not happy with the dresses but each time she opened her mouth to speak, Honoria interrupted with a distracting remark. When Amity questioned Honoria, she laughed off her concerns, saying foreigners always were moody.

Yesterday when the ball gown arrived, Amity had been filled with excitement. Since her arrival in London she had become more aware of fashions and dreamed about the thrill of being dressed like the rest of the young ladies her age. She could not wait another moment to see the results of her endless shopping. Hurrying to her room, she had locked the door and folded back the tissue around the dress. The dress was just as she had pictured it and she sighed with happiness. Slipping out of her morning gown, she pulled the dress over her head. Her hands shook as she tied the sash beneath her breasts and crossed the room until she stood in front of the cheval glass. Slowly she raised her eyes.

A cry of disappointment came to her lips but she bit it back as she stared at the dreadful vision in the mirror. The beautiful dress looked ludicrous. Her shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes, wanting nothing more than to run away back to Beech House. She gave in to the feeling of self-pity for a few minutes before her more practical sense came to her aid. Taking her hands away from her eyes, she stared into the mirror trying to look with an objective eye at the dress.

The dress itself was a beautiful creation. It was white muslin, which Honoria had told her was
de rigueur
for a debutante. The bodice was tucked and pleated down to the pink sash tied beneath her breasts. The skirt had wide, stiffly pleated ruffles which were caught up around the edge with bright pink bows to show off the shell pink underskirt. Honoria had advised that the sleeves be puffed at the shoulder and had suggested Amity might like the bows repeated on the material covering her arms down to her wrists. The dress was in every respect like the one Amity and Honoria had designed.

The problem was that the gown would have looked beautiful on Honoria's petite figure. On Amity the dress accentuated her height and was much too fussy for her larger figure. Perhaps it might not have been so awful but the bright color of the pink sash and bows clashed with her hair, setting her teeth on edge. Closing her eyes, Amity remembered Honoria holding the pink satin material against her cheek.

"This color brings out the highlights in your hair, my dear." Honoria's voice echoed in Amity's head. "And it does wonders for your skin tones."

Sitting on the bench in the park, Amity bowed her head, embarrassed that she had been so easily gulled. She did not understand why Honoria had let her choose her own wardrobe when her unsophisticated choices had been so wrong. She had been betrayed by her own foolish pride and the older woman who she thought was standing as friend. She still found it hard to believe that Honoria would be so cruel as to make her a laughingstock but if she wore the dress this evening, Amity knew that would be the result.

Part of Amity's anguish was in knowing that she would disappoint Max. Her guardian had been wonderful to her and she would repay him by appearing like the veriest country bumpkin. She wanted nothing so much as to throw herself on his chest and cry out all her woes but that was an impossibility. It was apparent from the beginning that Honoria had a special position in Max's life. There was a proprietary air about the woman when she spoke of him that indicated to Amity that their relationship was not one of mere friendship. In the last few days Honoria had hinted that Max was near to declaring himself and that had destroyed any thought Amity had that she might confide her troubles to him.