Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,15

US army, standing at attention. I had broad shoulders, so the last thing I wanted to do was accentuate them. As if reading my mind, Libby corrected me.

"Keeping your shoulders back will minimize their broadness, but also remember, your waist is small and the contrast with your shoulders and waist and — lower half — give you the perfect hourglass shape. Use it well, miss." She nodded as I adjusted my body.

She was right. The corset had given me an even smaller waistline, and I could understand her logic. Keeping my posture, I followed her into the green salon.

"Miss, walk quieter. Don't stomp. Glide. Watch me." She moved with a grace that reminded me of ballet. I could do that, but holding the posture and gliding seemed a bit difficult. But if she could do it, so could I. Focusing my efforts I managed to "glide" into the parlor with Libby clapping her hands.

"Now hold your head up high, tilt your head back slightly, and raise your ears."

"My what?"

"Your ears. Pull your spine straight. Ah yes. Very nice."

This was much more work than I'd anticipated. Walking — no, gliding over to the settee while keeping my ears raised, I sat down gently and crossed my legs.

"Oh no, miss! You mustn't do that. " She sat next to me and showed me how to cross my ankles.

Ah, I remember doing that. I'd only gotten in the habit of crossing my legs after high school. Nanna had never allowed me to do it around her, said it was vulgar. Now perfectly posed, I closed my eyes and tried to memorize the position so I could find it once again.

"Much better! I see you've been busy, Libby!" Mrs. Trimbleton announced as she joined us in the parlor. Her cap was pristine white and her riotous curls were threatening to overcome their pins. She handed me a weighty bundle of missives. I regarded the pile, noticing all the varying designs and shapes.

"What's this?" I asked, wondering if had to write thank you cards for some reason.

"Your correspondence. It seems that news of your incident yesterday has made the rounds. Judging by the amount of invitations you received, the ton is concerned about your welfare. No doubt the Dannberry brothers spread the word at White's last night. Those two couldn't keep a secret if they tried." She blew out an indignant huff as she sifted through the pile of letters. She came to a thick ivory envelope with embossed etching and a blue wax seal. "Ah, here's the one you'll want to attend tonight."

"Wait, all of these are for tonight?"

"Oh, no, not all of them. I'm sure there are one or two that are merely correspondence."

There had to be fifteen envelopes. Apparently my mishap had given me a boost of popularity. Not exactly the kind of popularity I would wish for, but there was nothing I could do about it. "What is the invitation for?" I asked, curious.

"The Steward's Ball. It's a smaller affair, and you go each year. Your cream gown will be beautiful. Libby, would you please set it out and arrange everything for Miss Westin's toilet?"

"Yes'm." She dipped a quick curtsey to Mrs. Trimbleton and then to me and scurried away to do the housekeeper's bidding.

"Do you honestly think I'm ready for this? You saw me this morning. Don't you think my attendance tonight is a bit premature? Surely I'll humiliate myself!

She straightened her spine and pulled herself to her full height of about five-foot-two and speared me with a sharp gaze. "You're a Westin. You do not hide. Ever. You will be grace and beauty. You will have a good excuse to leave early, but you will stay, you will dance, and you will uphold your family's name."

One thing hadn't changed in all the chaos—I was still a Westin. And she was right. If I hid I'd only fuel the gossip, practically begging for the old biddies to slay my family's name. I couldn't let that happen. I'd read enough of my Regency romance books to know what to expect in a general sense, and I knew I had to face the sharks or else I'd end up being bait.

So, with a deep breath, I gazed into Mrs. Trimbleton's eyes. "All right, what do I need to do?"

Chapter Six

A few hours, several hundred pins, and one oxygen-depriving corset later, I was proclaimed ready. I had no chaperone, but I was told I had taken to attending these gatherings alone once I'd