for dinner. There’s a feather dyed to match for your hair.’ She held up an ostrich plume, then glanced at the clock. ‘We should hurry, miss. His lordship will be here in no time.’
Ready to carry her to the dining room, dressed or not. He wouldn’t dare. Or would he? She had the distinct impression his lordship would dare anything at all, if it suited him.
‘Very well, the yellow.’
Betsy made short work of getting her into the shift and stays that had accompanied the gowns. They were beautiful garments, much nicer than anything Mary had ever bought for herself. They felt wonderful against her skin.
‘And now for the gown,’ Betsy said, gently bunching up the fabric in her arms so she could slip the dress over Mary’s head.
It went on with a whisper. So light and silky and a perfect length. Betsy fastened it at the back, handed her a pair of lacy gloves and gestured to the chair in front of the mirror. ‘If miss will sit down, I will do your hair.’
Mary could see from the girl’s face that she was dying to be given free rein. She shook her head with a smile. ‘Do what you can, then.’
Her hair was too straight and to heavy for anything fancy.
She sat down and glanced at her reflection. She winced. This gown was worse than the blue one. Never had she felt so exposed. ‘Give me my shawl, please.’
Betsy looked scandalised. ‘You can’t wear that old thing with such a pretty gown, miss.’
She could and she would. ‘I will surely freeze otherwise.’
With a sigh Betsy handed her the shawl and picked up the hairbrush. In minutes the maid had artfully twisted her hair into clusters of braids on each side of her head and anchored the feather on her crown. She stepped back. ‘You look beautiful, miss.’
Beautiful? The girl had stars in her eyes. She looked like a carthorse dressed up as a thoroughbred. Just as Sally always said she would.
A firm rap sounded on the door. It opened without giving her a chance to answer. Blast. She should have had Betsy turn the key.
Lord Beresford stood staring at her for a moment. His hooded gaze ran from her head to her heels and, if she wasn’t mistaken, lingered on her bosom for more seconds that was polite. His gaze met hers and his eyes lit with genuine pleasure. Her stomach gave a funny little hop. ‘Ah, Miss Wilding. I see you are ready and waiting.’
For a man whose plan to do away with her had failed, he looked remarkably at ease and splendidly handsome. Had her imagination played tricks on her, after all? But as he came towards her, clearly intending to lift her in his arms, it dawned on her that while he might not have succeeded in St Ives, now, unable to walk, she was well and truly at his mercy.
Cold slid down her spine. She opened her mouth to refuse to go to dinner.
His gaze sharpened, his expression tightening as if he had guessed her intent. She could almost see him distancing himself and she felt terribly guilty for letting her prejudices show. ‘Yes, I am ready.’
He looked relieved. Did she really have the power to hurt his feelings? It was hard to believe.
In the next moment, he swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the room. Her mind scrambled to catch up with her body’s pleasure of once more being in his arms.
He glanced down at her. The earlier gladness had leached from his face, replaced by cool remoteness. ‘I won’t have poor old Manners dashing from one end of this labyrinth to the other when it is so easy for me to bring you to the dining room.’
So this was all for Manners’s benefit. Well, that put her in her place. He was right about the Abbey being a labyrinth. A labyrinth with secrets in its walls. And she ought to be glad of his thoughtfulness for the ancient butler, but perversely she wished it had been the pleasure of her company that made him come to fetch her.
Now that really was illogical.
Just as illogical as the way something in her chest gave a painful squeeze each time she saw him anew. Fear. That was all it could possibly be. They were enemies, fighting over a fortune she had never wanted in the first place.
And still she could not help her admiration for his male beauty as she stared at