Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

to deportment,’ Lady Radthorn announced after the butler retired with the tea tray. ‘Let me see you walk across the room.’

      It wasn’t her walking that would cause her trouble, it was her speech, though Lady Radthorn hadn’t said a word about her hesitations. The thought of talking to a herd of strangers made her quake in her shoes.

      None the less, Frederica rose and walked to the window through which she had an excellent view of the park’s formal gardens. They seemed to stretch for miles. If only she could be out there, instead of in here, even if the grey lining to the large fluffy clouds did portend rain.

      ‘Straighten your shoulders, Miss Bracewell. Keep your chin up. Breeding shows in every step. Walk as if you are floating on air, not tramping through a field.’

      On air? She felt like she was sinking into a quagmire. Still, who could resist Lady Radthorn?

      ‘Turn,’ the doughty lady said. ‘No, no. Not like that. As if you had a book on your head. Try again.’

      Frederica did.

      ‘Much better, gel. You’ve your mother’s grace if nothing else.’

      The compliment almost sent her to her knees.

      Her taskmaster tsked. ‘Now you are sagging again. Straighten your spine. Imagine a chord from the top of your head to the ceiling and it is too short. Glide, gel. Glide. As if you were waltzing. You do know how to waltz, or course.’

      Oh, God. More evidence of her lack of breeding. ‘I d-d-d—’

      ‘Do.’ Lady Radthorn flicked her fingers. ‘Of course you do. All young ladies do these days. Wait until you see John, my grandson. He is a wonderful dancer.’

      Another knock at the door diverted Lady Radthorn’s attention and cut off Frederica’s words.

      ‘Mrs Phillips is here, my lady,’ the butler said.

      ‘Show her in at once.’ Lady Radthorn rubbed her blue-veined hands together. ‘Now we will truly enjoy ourselves.’

      And they did, much to Frederica’s astonishment. But who would not be charmed by the array of muslins and laces brought by the seamstress? Best of all, the two ladies consulted Frederica about each item selected, often praising her taste and sense of style. She put it down to her artist’s eye, though she didn’t say that to the two women.

      Informed of the urgency, Mrs Phillips had brought several ready-made gowns from which to choose with the idea of altering them to fit. The riding habit was to be made new, as well as an evening gown.

      ‘Do you think you can manage all of that in three days, Mrs Phillips?’ Lady Radthorn asked, leaning against the sofa back and fanning her face.

      The bird-like Scottish lady smiled. ‘Oh, I think so, your ladyship. I’ll gain some help from a couple of lasses I know.’ She turned to Frederica. ‘And it is pleasure, I assure you, to dress such a lovely young lady.’

      Frederica’s heart jumped. Lovely? Not possible. It must be flattery because they’d spent so much money. Although Robert could not have found her completely unattractive or he wouldn’t have…Oh, heavens. If Lady Radford guessed at the direction of her thoughts, she’d probably dismiss her as worse than her mother and toss her out on her ear. She didn’t want that. She liked the dowager countess. She was the first person who had taken any real interest in her, apart from Robert. She’d do anything to keep her friendship.

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Phillips,’ she said. ‘There is one thing we haven’t yet discussed.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Lady Radthorn said. She counted off on her fingers. ‘Three morning dresses, two afternoon dresses, a pelisse, an evening gown and a riding habit.’ She frowned at Frederica. ‘That was all your uncle asked for.’

      ‘The m-masked ball?’ Frederica said.

      ‘Oh, my,’ Mrs Phillips said, her eyes widening. ‘That’s right. A costume. Oh, mercy.’

      ‘Masked?’ Lady Radthorn said. ‘What flummery.’

      Frederica wanted to giggle at her disparaging tone. ‘Simon requested it.’ She rather liked the idea of pretending to be someone else for one night.

      ‘Well,’ Mrs Phillips said, ‘if the young lady is wanting to go as Mary Queen of Scots or some mythical beast, I truly will not have time to make all of these other things as well. A poor body can only do so much, your ladyship.’

      ‘Let me think,’ Lady Radthorn said. ‘I dressed once as Guinevere, and Radthorn was Arthur. All that metal clanking around quite gave me a headache.’

      ‘I had thought of something less complicated,’ Frederica said. ‘Perhaps a Roman lady. It needs no more than a long length of white sheeting.’

      ‘Too plain,’ Lady Radthorn said, narrowing her eyes on Frederica as if she was an exotic weed that had shown up in a bouquet. ‘But, yes, something simple. Something to show off your delicate skin and lovely figure.’

      There was that word lovely again. Frederica felt heat in her cheeks and a bubble of something pleasant in her chest, as if life suddenly held a great deal of promise. Was this part of Uncle Mortimer’s plot? Woo her with gowns and balls, so she would go like a lamb to the slaughter?

      ‘What about Titania?’ Mrs Phillips said. ‘From A Midsummer Night’s Dream. A wisp or two of fabric, some wings and daisy crown. Sure, I could do that in an hour or two.’

      A wisp of fabric? Frederica shivered. ‘I prefer the sheeting.’

      ‘Nonsense. My word, gel, it is the very thing. Caroline Lamb would have eaten her heart out for curves like yours. Titania it is.’

      ‘I—’

      ‘I’ll hear no more from you, miss.’ Lady Radthorn laid the back of her hand against her high forehead. ‘I am exhausted. Ring the bell for Creedy and a footman to help Mrs Phillips out and then take yourself off.’

      When Frederica didn’t move, she sat up. ‘No arguments. Go along, child. Come back tomorrow and we will continue our lessons.’

      In short order, Frederica found herself bundled out of the house and into her uncle’s waiting carriage.

      She collapsed against the squabs. Titania. And she had hoped to spend the ball hiding out in a corner, avoiding Simon. She would have to hide if all they gave her was a wisp of fabric. And Lady Radthorn thought she knew how to waltz.

      There was one person she trusted who knew how, but he had forbidden her to call.

      For Robert, the New Year had come and gone with barely a mention. The next day, collar turned up against the wind, he walked to Wynchwood. The faint grey of dawn was already dimming the stars to the east. He’d grown to love the peace of the early mornings, but today he felt tired. Once again, thoughts of Frederica had kept him tossing and turning on his cot and now if he didn’t hurry he’d be late. Damn the girl for plaguing his nights. The lost look she’d given him when he told her not to come back had been a hard bed mate, particularly when all he’d wanted to do was pull her close and offer comfort.

      As well as seek his own.

      He should never have drunk so much.

      Damnation, he should never have dallied with the girl, innocent or no. But he just couldn’t resist, could he? A wastrel, Father had called him. Dissolute. Perhaps the reason it hurt so much was because he’d been right.

      Making love to her had been incredible, but he still couldn’t believe he’d jeopardised his position here at Wynchwood for the fulfilment of transient lust. From now on, he must ignore her, or better yet frighten her off.

      The trouble with that plan was that she seemed hard to scare. He’d thought she’d run a mile when he called her bluff, but she’d accepted his challenge and he’d forgotten his intentions in the pleasure of her arms.

      Never