the art of loving ; lord tewksbury

twenty-nine

" We've been at this for the past twenty minutes, and you've already predicted six divorces."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Daisy was truly amazed at how punctual the guests were. She was in one of the many bedrooms, sitting by the window and staring at the brass clock perched on top of the vanity. At six on the dot, horses with the shiniest coats and manes brushed to perfection appeared at the gate, drawing carriages upon carriages of the wealthy into the estate's compound. Each vehicle came to a halt when it arrived at the house front, allowing its passengers to take as much time as they needed to disembark.

  With every unfamiliar face emerging from the carriages, Daisy's agitation doubled. They were dressed in the fanciest, most impeccably designed clothing from head to toe. The women embellished their necks and ears with the most exorbitant jewellery pieces, while the men balanced themselves on canes with intricate patterns undoubtedly carved onto their handles.

  Looking at them from above, Daisy couldn't help but feel intimidated. It was difficult to imagine herself being among these people, with their posh hairdos custom made top hats. She was the rotten apple in a basket of freshly-plucked fruit. She felt like an outsider, even at her own ball.

  Daisy tore her gaze away from the happenings below and moved to sit in front of the vanity. She examined herself in the mirror. Minimal makeup had been applied to her face—just a few touch-ups here and there, some blush across her cheeks for a hint of rosiness, and a few swipes of lipstick in the lightest shade of pink.

  Earlier, when the servants had assisted her in getting ready, Daisy asked if they could go light on the make-up. If she was going to make it through the night, she at least wanted to be comfortable and let her skin breathe. They obliged to her request without question, saying that the Marchioness herself had ordered them keep Daisy as natural-looking as possible. She had to be portrayed as a sweet, innocent girl to make her more desirable.

  In other words, if you were well-liked, the rich might look past your social status.

  The gown she wore was a light pink and off the shoulder, with a bouffant-styled skirt and a satin ribbon which tied around the back. Unlike this morning, her hair was free of tangles and had been twisted up into a neat bun with few curled strands framing her face. It was an elegant and sophisticated look, two things she hoped to honour tonight.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Daisy told whoever it was to come in. A split second later, an angular-faced man with a greying moustache popped his head in.

"Good evening, Miss Winters," Mr Windermere greeted. "I'm here to inform you that we will begin shortly. Are you ready to go?"

The girl nodded at the master of ceremonies. "Yes. If you don't mind me asking, have you seen my brother anywhere? He's supposed to bring me something."

"I haven't crossed paths with him tonight," the man said. "But I am sure he is somewhere in the crowd. We can look for him after." He pulled the door wide open and stepped aside to let Daisy through. "Come along, now. Everyone is eager to meet you."

Mr Windermere escorted her through a few narrow hallways without another word. Daisy tried to keep up with him, even though it proved to be difficult to do so because of the uncomfortable shoes she had been forced to wear. She did her best to not dwell on the pain, though she expected her feet would be sore by the end of the night.

When they turned another corner into a wider hallway, Daisy caught sight of a pair of double doors in the centre of the left wall. Waiting in front of them was none other than Tewksbury himself. He held something in one hand and stared straight ahead, unaware of the approaching girl.