The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,16
still didn’t know how her friend was going to procure two invitations to the most exclusive ball of the Season, but she had no doubt that if anyone could manage such a task it was Helena. Finding her dress hanging up behind the door, she slipped it over her head and enlisted the help of another seamstress to fasten the buttons running down the back.
“But you can’t just leave,” Helena said, frowning. “What about hair ribbons? And jewelry? And gloves? And–”
“Pick them all out, and have the bill sent to me.” Calliope drew a deep breath, then wished she hadn’t. The windowless dressing room was small, hot, and smelled like Lady Shillington’s perfume. The sooner she could escape the better. After thanking the employees for their time, she gathered her reticule and draped her pelisse over her arm, then turned to Helena.
“I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “I’ve had a lovely time. Really. It’s just that…”
“You’d rather be slowly roasted alive over a boiling pit of hot lava than try on another gown?” her friend asked dryly.
“Precisely.”
“I understand. You like dress fittings as much as much as I like reading.” Helena’s green eyes twinkled. “Just make sure to be at my house at a quarter to seven. We’ll have a light dinner, then prepare.”
Ordinarily Calliope would get ready for the ball at her uncle’s residence – it felt strange, even now, to think of it as her own – but she didn’t want to incite Lady Shillington or Beatrice’s anger, neither of whom had been invited (or would have been able to attend even if they had, given they were still in full mourning). She hoped to circumvent all of the drama that would inevitably ensue if it were discovered she was attending Lady Galveston’s ball without them by staying with Helena for the night. With a little luck her aunt and cousin would never be any the wiser, and their daily barbs – while sharp – would not draw more blood than usual.
“Do you really think the earl will be there?” Calliope spoke in a hushed whisper, though she wasn’t completely certain why. Perhaps because it felt a little illicit, to be attending a ball with the sole purpose of seducing a stranger to marry her. Not that she really thought she could seduce anyone. Least of all an earl. But with Helena’s tutelage she was going to give it her best shot, for what other choice did she have?
“I’m positive. Leo is a man of his word. He’ll no doubt grumble and growl the entire time, but he’ll be there. That I can promise. As for the rest…” The countess shrugged. “That will up to you, won’t it?”
Calliope felt an odd flutter in her belly. “I – I suppose.”
Helena chuckled. “You needn’t look so worried, darling. Leo is going to absolutely adore you. He’s really quite sweet, once you get past all the growly bits.”
“You said he needed behavioral modifications.”
“Don’t all men?” Her friend said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Oh, it will be fine.” Rolling her eyes at Calliope’s worried expression, she spun her toward the door. “Go home, have a cup of tea, and rest. We’ve a big night ahead of us.”
Yes, they did. Although Calliope was giving serious consideration to bolting the door to her bedchamber and hiding under the covers. Not that it would do much good. Once Helena had an idea in her head, she didn’t rest until she saw it come to fruition. Regardless of whether Calliope got cold feet or not, she was going to the ball.
The countess would see to that.
Untying the silk ribbons on her bonnet, she twisted them between her fingers as she waited for a carriage to pass and then hurried across the street. Traffic had increased tenfold over the past two days, particularly in London’s premiere shopping district where everyone was rushing around to prepare for the new Season. The only other time the city was this busy was during Christmas when carolers stood on every corner, wreaths hung from shop windows, and there was a general sense of merriment in the air.
But as Calliope retraced her steps through the park the only thing she felt was a tingling sense of breathless anticipation mixed with anxiety. Anxiety that quickly turned to dread when she heard the unmistakable sound of her aunt’s cackling laughter from around a bend in the path.
“Oh no,” she gasped, her hand plastering itself to her chest as her gaze darted wildly