Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,111
arms and Emily draped the blue gown over her head and shoulders before tugging it into place.
“Come have a look, miss,” the maid invited cheerfully, indicating the four-foot tall cheval looking-glass in the corner. Emily tilted it accordingly and waited.
“I’m afraid to do so,” Julia said.
The maid giggled. “You look a vision, miss.”
Julia believed she did — a nightmarish vision of lace and pouffiness.
She glanced at herself and winced.
The first thing that took her attention was the low-cut bodice, fringed in sheer silk lace, then the ample floppy sleeves which somehow poofed once, twice, three times before ending just past her elbows in another fit of lace. The bodice was the last-century style coming to a point below her waist and then the skirt billowed out on either side.
Julia swallowed. “Perhaps if we took off the pocket hoops, it would hang a little more naturally.”
“Oh no,” Emily protested, suddenly a fashion expert, as if a modiste from the heart of London or Paris. “There would be far too much fabric, all shapeless hanging down on your hips.”
“You mean like our usual gowns,” she said wryly.
The maid, now having fun at Julia’s expense, seemed to be the most good-natured giddy girl. “No, miss. Not at all. You know what I mean.”
“It could be worse, I suppose,” Julia conceded, taking another look as she turned slowly before the long mirror. “A decade or so earlier, and the skirt would be as wide as a sofa. Why, I would have to turn sideways to get through the door. At least, I shall fit into the dining room with this one. But just barely.”
“Of course, you will fit, miss. Shall we dress your hair?”
“Will my hair get its own cage, too?” Julia asked rudely. She’d seen some incredible creations in fashion plates from the seventeen-hundreds with stuffed birds, little buildings, or even miniature horse and carriages built in, and the entire monstrosity held together with pomade so it wouldn’t come down in a typhoon.
Emily actually appeared to be thinking about it, and Julia feared if she didn’t quell any such thoughts, she would also end up with a fake beauty mark on her cheek and a white-powdered face.
“I was speaking in jest,” she assured the maid. “A regular tidy plait pinned up with a few curls will suffice, if you please.”
“Yes, miss.”
Still, somehow, Julia felt as if Emily had given the thick chignon extra height and had overdone the number of curls.
“Will I be late for dinner?” she asked, hoping to stop the maid from any further fussing.
“No, miss. You’re the guest. They won’t start without you. In fact, I’ve been instructed to take you down to the gray salon when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready, Emily. This has taken two hours longer than I normally spend at my toilette.”
“Yes, miss. I’m terribly sorry.”
Drat her tongue! Now Emily was going to mope.
“I’m not complaining,” Julia explained, then outright lied. “I’ve never been dressed so well or made to look so attractive. You are a wonder.”
The girl regained her smile and her cheeks pinkened. Then she led Julia downstairs to the correct room, which she never would have found by herself.
Unfortunately, a moment later, Jasper’s raucous laughter rang in her ears.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“It has come to this paper’s attention that Bow Street Runners were seen on Grosvenor Square two days ago calling out for scandalous Lord M__ who eluded them.”
-The Morning Post
Jasper burst out laughing but managed to stop himself almost instantly, even as he rose slowly to his feet, his gaze fixed on Julia’s bewildering appearance. His mother on the other hand got right to the heart of the matter.
“Where under God’s heaven did you get that gown, dear girl?”
Julia halted in her tracks.
“I...,” she began and turned to where the maid had been standing a moment earlier but she’d already scurried away. Faced with emptiness, Julia glanced back at him and then answered his mother.
“Your staff found this in your attic, I believe, my lady. I came without any clothing, you see.”
“Whyever did you do such a thing?” His mother looked at him, then back at Miss Sudbury, clearly puzzled. He wished he’d come up with some sort of explanation, but he hadn’t been able to, and thus, he’d said nothing.
“I ... well ... there was a bungle,” Julia began. “My sister left nearly at the same time, and her footman put both trunks on her traveling carriage. When the earl picked me up, I thought my ... um ... my footman had loaded my trunk