The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,18

Since her arrival in London she had become more aware of fashions and dreamed about the thrill of being dressed like the rest of the young ladies her age. She could not wait another moment to see the results of her endless shopping. Hurrying to her room, she had locked the door and folded back the tissue around the dress. The dress was just as she had pictured it and she sighed with happiness. Slipping out of her morning gown, she pulled the dress over her head. Her hands shook as she tied the sash beneath her breasts and crossed the room until she stood in front of the cheval glass. Slowly she raised her eyes.

A cry of disappointment came to her lips but she bit it back as she stared at the dreadful vision in the mirror. The beautiful dress looked ludicrous. Her shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes, wanting nothing more than to run away back to Beech House. She gave in to the feeling of self-pity for a few minutes before her more practical sense came to her aid. Taking her hands away from her eyes, she stared into the mirror trying to look with an objective eye at the dress.

The dress itself was a beautiful creation. It was white muslin, which Honoria had told her was de rigueur for a debutante. The bodice was tucked and pleated down to the pink sash tied beneath her breasts. The skirt had wide, stiffly pleated ruffles which were caught up around the edge with bright pink bows to show off the shell pink underskirt. Honoria had advised that the sleeves be puffed at the shoulder and had suggested Amity might like the bows repeated on the material covering her arms down to her wrists. The dress was in every respect like the one Amity and Honoria had designed.

The problem was that the gown would have looked beautiful on Honoria's petite figure. On Amity the dress accentuated her height and was much too fussy for her larger figure. Perhaps it might not have been so awful but the bright color of the pink sash and bows clashed with her hair, setting her teeth on edge. Closing her eyes, Amity remembered Honoria holding the pink satin material against her cheek.

"This color brings out the highlights in your hair, my dear." Honoria's voice echoed in Amity's head. "And it does wonders for your skin tones."

Sitting on the bench in the park, Amity bowed her head, embarrassed that she had been so easily gulled. She did not understand why Honoria had let her choose her own wardrobe when her unsophisticated choices had been so wrong. She had been betrayed by her own foolish pride and the older woman who she thought was standing as friend. She still found it hard to believe that Honoria would be so cruel as to make her a laughingstock but if she wore the dress this evening, Amity knew that would be the result.

Part of Amity's anguish was in knowing that she would disappoint Max. Her guardian had been wonderful to her and she would repay him by appearing like the veriest country bumpkin. She wanted nothing so much as to throw herself on his chest and cry out all her woes but that was an impossibility. It was apparent from the beginning that Honoria had a special position in Max's life. There was a proprietary air about the woman when she spoke of him that indicated to Amity that their relationship was not one of mere friendship. In the last few days Honoria had hinted that Max was near to declaring himself and that had destroyed any thought Amity had that she might confide her troubles to him.

How could Amity tell Max that the woman he loved had set out to ruin his ward's chances in society? She had trusted Honoria and had not looked beyond the woman's words to the character beneath. It was in recent days that she had begun to question Honoria's motives but she had ignored the inconsistencies since Max thought so well of the woman. Could Max not see beyond the woman's beautiful facade? And if he couldn't, it was not up to Amity to destroy his illusions.

For some reason, Honoria had taken her in dislike but Amity could not wholly blame the woman. She had been far too trusting. Now she understood why Madame Bertoldi had been so unsettled. The Frenchwoman knew that Amity's choices were wrong but had been