use an assistant this evening and, Ceci, he asked me if I could talk you into helping him.”
“He did?” Her amazement was obvious.
“Yes, he said that having you in front of everyone with him would help distract the others from any mistakes he might make.”
“Any woman could do that.”
“But he asked for you, sister! Not me. Or Katherine. Or Mrs. Kendrick.” She could have gone on but felt her point was made. “And you thought he was avoiding you. He clearly is not.”
“But I cannot assist. I have excused myself from dinner tonight.” Cecilia began to twist her hands together. “I don’t feel well.”
“Nonsense, Ceci. You are never sick a day. You’re just making an excuse to avoid Lord Destry.” Beatrice looked around the room. “Where is Darwell?”
“Callan, Lord Jess’s valet, came to the door and asked for her assistance with something. She promised to be back in time to help you dress.”
“Then we had best start right away since you are going to dinner and you are assisting Lord Destry.”
Beatrice went into the dressing room and opened the clothes press. She hoped Cecilia would follow. Beatrice had no idea what would be the best sort of dress to wear for such a performance.
Cecilia did join her, but she closed the lid on the dresses. “I cannot do it, Bitsy. I hate being the center of attention. You know that.”
“They will all be watching him juggle.”
“Then why does he need me?”
Ceci did have a point. “I told you, to hand him his various props and look approving.” Hoping, praying that what she was about to say would not ruin everything, Beatrice took the risk. “Consider this, Ceci. He is asking for your help. To refuse would be so unkind, would tell him once and for all that you think he is not worthy of your attention.” Beatrice lifted the lid of the press again.
“But that’s not true at all,” her sister said with some urgency. She eyed the dresses. “I’ll be terrified the entire time. But you do have a point. I would never want him to think I find him lacking.”
With a resigned sigh, Ceci lifted a dress out. “I think this pale pink. It will not call attention to me the way a bolder color would, and it is a fabric that does not wrinkle much so we can manage without Darwell having to iron it.”
Beatrice’s dress was already hanging. A blue that was more marine than true blue, it was one of her favorites of the new gowns.
Before they could do more than don clean shifts and tie each other’s stays, Darwell was back. She looked as composed as usual, so Beatrice had to rethink the idea that she and Callan were having their own love affair.
She had love on the brain. Not everyone here was falling in love. She was the perfect example of that and so was Mrs. Wilson, though one presumed she was in love with her husband.
Darwell accepted that Cecilia had changed her mind, but did comment to Beatrice as she did her hair. “I knew it was all a hum, but did not even try to convince her. You seem to be the only one who can do that, miss.”
Cecilia wanted to wear her hair as simply as possible and, though she did raise her eyebrows at the idea, Darwell did not argue. She just gave Beatrice an arch look, hoping she would work her magic again.
Beatrice shook her head and did not try to discourage her sister. Cecilia thought that the simple style would dim her beauty, which made Beatrice want to laugh out loud. If anything, it made her look even more alluring.
“I hope you know what you are doing, miss,” Darwell said to her as they left the room.
Beatrice nodded, trying to look confident but not at all sure she was succeeding.
JESS WATCHED THE performance with more fascination than amusement. The performer he was watching was not Destry, who was doing a creditable job juggling everything from oranges to plates, and even some candleholders that must have been difficult to balance, much less catch.
No, it was Beatrice who had most of his attention. She was as nervous as a mother hen with a new chick out from under her wing. That was an understatement, Jess decided. She was acting as if her entire fate rested on the turn of a single card. She would be the world’s worst card player if she could not control her expressions better.
Cecilia, chick