To Dance until Dawn - Emma V. Leech Page 0,38

a wardrobe for her overnight.

The manager had clearly done his best, and everything that had been provided was the height of Parisian fashion—for a highflyer. The necklines were nigh on indecent, and the dresses an impossible indulgence of huge gigot sleeves and ribbons and ruffles, and… good heavens.

“Oh, la la!” the maid squeaked, holding up a corset so indecent Phoebe blushed scarlet.

The two of them looked at each other, and fell about laughing.

With some difficulty, Phoebe selected the least shocking of the clothes provided, remembering her new determination to be a proper young lady and not make a spectacle of herself. The effect was spoiled by the scandalous under-things, which—even though no one but her knew they were there—made her feel quite wicked. She fought to ignore them, but it was difficult. Still, the maid, whose name was Yvette, was gazing at her with such wonder she believed that she would not embarrass Max by looking either dowdy or cheap.

The pelisse-robe was a soft sage colour with huge gigot sleeves stiffened at the top with whalebone, and they were the largest Phoebe had ever seen. If there was a strong gust of wind, she saw the daunting possibility of being lifted clear off the floor. The sleeves then narrowed and became tightly fitting with a complicated arrangement of laces. The waist was tightly nipped in and belted, and the full skirts trimmed with several scalloped flounces. Yellow limerick gloves and matching half boots completed the ensemble. It was far more outrageous and frivolous than anything she’d ever worn before and, by the time Yvette had wrestled her hair into some ridiculously fashionable coiffure, and she’d put on the enormous Leghorn hat that came with the dress, Phoebe felt like a cross between a duchess and a bride cake with too many decorations.

Having swallowed a cup of chocolate and eaten far too many delicate little pastries called Kipferls that had been presented alongside it, Phoebe was ready to face Max again. She could not wait to see his face and see if he thought it all as ridiculous as she did.

Momentarily forgetting her vow to act with decorum, she almost ran down the stairs to discover Max waiting in the grand entrance hall for her. His mouth fell open as he saw her. Not only his, however. The entire hotel, which she now saw was quite bustling with patrons, stopped in their tracks to stare.

Phoebe blushed, and wondered if, yet again, she had done nothing but embarrass him.

Chapter 9

My dear Pippin,

We are returning to Dern and I beg you to be waiting to attend Matilda. She is quite out of sorts, increasingly pale and lethargic, and I don’t mind telling you I am out of my mind with worry. She has swooned twice in the last week, which she assures me she has never done in her life before. Pippin, I cannot lose her. I shall go mad. I cannot even consider my life without

I beg you to discover what ails her. The vexing creature refuses to see another doctor here and will have no one but you attend her. So, we will be with you midmorning tomorrow, all being well, and I pray you might put my fears to rest.

―Excerpt of a letter to Mrs ‘Pippin’ Appleton from The Most Honourable Lucian Barrington, Marquess of Montagu.

9th April 1827. Montagu House, St James’s, London.

Matilda took a deep breath and forced herself to stand up, fighting past the sudden wave of dizziness. She clutched the back of the chair by the dressing table, willing herself not to swoon again for fear Lucian would cart her off to the nearest doctor by force. Her reflection in the mirror spoke volumes of yet another sleepless night and a lack of energy so profound that all she wanted was to turn around and go straight back to bed. She had never in her life wanted to sleep the day away, but at this moment it seemed an appealing prospect.

In other circumstances, she would have believed herself with child and be delighted, but it was not that. The symptoms were not the same, for she had not had the slightest bit of nausea, and she had not been so dreadfully tired with the boys. Besides which, Thomas’ birth had been long and difficult, and her monthly courses had all but disappeared ever since. She had visited several of the most prominent doctors in the country and all had agreed she was no longer fertile. She was