Bisclavret

Chapter 15

Later that night, I'm sitting in front of my vanity mirror, eyeing the low cut of my dark green silk dress. Do I even try to argue with Henrietta about its indecency? I sigh and decide against it. I'll probably lose anyway, and I just don't have the energy right now.

She's done my hair in another new style, parting it on one side and then pulling it back. It looks chic and modern, just like the dress. Around my neck, she's tied a black ribbon to match the band around my arm, which also matches the black sash she added around my waist. My elbow-length gloves are the same midnight hue. Maybe she's right to dress me in solid colors; all these black adornments would look out of place against a pastel patterned gown.

I stand from the vanity, my limbs heavy. It's been a long day, and I still have the entire night ahead of me. "I look lovely, Henrietta. Thank you."

She shoots me a wink. "You're welcome. Let's hope Lord Giroux agrees."

I force myself to smile. "I'll let you know when I return from dinner." I drop the smile the moment I turn toward the open door between Livy's room and mine. Maybe I can find an actress amongst the guests to teach me how to be a better liar. It's only been a day, and I'm already sick of all this duplicity.

Livy is standing in front of her mirror when I enter her room, fretting as she turns this way and that. The dress she wears is sapphire blue, and matching gems sparkle around her neck and in her ears. She looks beautiful, and like this, it would be impossible for anyone to think her still a girl instead of a young woman in her own right. I watch as she adjusts the gown, trying to hide her cleavage by pulling at the lace along the scooped neck. There will be a crowd again tonight. Not as many as yesterday but enough for her to want to look her best. The men are using the gathering to their advantage, meeting today and later tonight to plan their next assaults. The women are just happy for a chance to socialize and experience some normalcy amongst the chaos of war and rebellion.

"You look lovely," I say. "Stop fussing, or you'll tear the lace."

She lifts her head, frowning. "You don't think it's too low?"

I join her in front of the mirror and wrap my arm around her waist. "No. And if you stand next to me all night, you'll look positively modest in comparison."

She laughs, but her gaze dips to my decolletage, and she shakes her head. "It's a good thing you don't have a fuller bust, or you'd be well and truly falling out of it." Her gaze goes back to the mirror. "Mama said it's time I wear a proper dress."

I'm glad to see the marquise is making such an obvious effort to treat Livy like the young adult she is. "The color suits you. I don't doubt that you'll cut a swath through the party tonight."

"Thank you," she says. "And if that dress doesn't make Henri want to kiss you, nothing will."

I make a noncommittal sound. Dear God, let's hope it doesn't. The idea of being kissed by him is more than a little unnerving. Kisses should be sweet, a gentle invitation, an exchange of sentiment. I don't think of those things when I think of Lord Giroux. He could easily crush me by accident, I'm sure of it. He's too large, too strong.

Unbidden, an image explodes through my mind of him doing just that: crushing me against a wall while his mouth attacks mine. I sway where I stand, and something low in my abdomen clenches in response. Maybe I should have prayed for myself a bit harder earlier.

"Are you ready?" I ask, forcing the words out.

"I suppose," Livy replies, and we leave the room in a rustle of silks.

We meet the marquise in the hallway. "You girls look lovely," she says.

Livy and I return the sentiment. With news of her husband on the way, some color has returned to her cheeks. The gown she wears isn't actually black but a blue so deep that in the dim light of the hall, it almost appears that it is. It compliments her fair hair and features, reminds me of raven feathers in the shifting candlelight.