The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,23

in delight. Throwing a kiss to her bemused guardian, she scampered out of the room. Max remained seated, touched by the joy his ward found in such small things. He was sorry now that he had shouted at her. His hand reached inside his coat and he extracted a velvet box that he laid on the desk. His long fingers tapped on the lid and he pictured the expression on Amity's face when he presented her with the string of pearls.

He had intended she wear them on this special evening. He had toyed with the idea of making Amity's debut an occasion of double celebration by announcing his betrothal to Honoria. He had chided himself for his failure to declare his intentions to Miss Waterston but he found he was loath to commit himself. It was not that he had changed his mind. Honoria was everything he wanted in a bride. His mind had been occupied with the problem of Amity and he had not had the opportunity to settle his own affairs. Once his ward was launched he would speak to Honoria about their own relationship.

Besides, this evening should be a singular celebration for Amity. He was pleased with how well she had adapted to her new life. He could see that once he had explained the qualities that she must aspire to, the girl had striven to become more ladylike.

Dealing with his ward was no different than dealing with any other woman. One needed only to impress on the girl that things must be done, in an ordered fashion. Once she gave up her hoyden ways, she would make the perfect wife for any man. Her bursts of enthusiasm and rash behavior would soon vanish and her behavior would be a model of decorum. He scratched his chin, wondering why the picture of Amity as the soul of docility should sit so ill on his mind.

Chapter Five

"It's worse than I remember." Amity moaned and her shoulders slumped as she looked into the mirror.

"I'll admit it doesn't do you a treat. Lud, I wish me mum were here. She was wizard with a needle." Betta circled behind her mistress, eyeing the dress from every angle. Her long nose was wrinkled as she debated what to do for the best. "I thought perhaps with your hair up in curls one wouldn't notice the dress. Ain't much of an improvement."

Amity stared wistfully at the intricate shower of ringlets and had to agree with her friend's opinion. The ornate arrangement of curls only emphasized the fussiness of the dress. They had already spent several hours trying different hairstyles but none of them had diminished the effect of the gown. She was doomed.

At the light scratching on the hall door, the girls froze and exchanged apprehensive glances. Moments later the sound was repeated with a decided impatience to the summons. Shrugging in resignation, Amity waved her hand to Betta who opened the door. Much to their surprise it was Max who stood transfixed in the doorway.

"Good Lord, Amity! What is that?"

"It's my gown for this evening." Amity raised her chin, forced by pride to defend the much-maligned dress.

"Devil, you say!" Max blurted out then clamped his mouth shut when he saw the look of misery on the girl's face. With a momentary hesitation, he closed the door and strode into the center of the room. "Turn around, Amity. I wish to be privy to the sensational features of your gown."

Cheeks flushed in embarrassment, Amity turned in a circle, coming to a stop facing him. Her head was bent because she had little desire to see the contempt in his eyes for her ludicrous costume.

Max felt as though he had taken a blow to his ribcage. How was it possible that the girl was wearing a dress that was so patently wrong for her? Honoria would never have permitted her to make such a choice. The dress was far more in Honoria's style than Amity's but he still did not understand how such a mistake could have been made. But more to the point, what on earth were they to do at this late hour?

"I'm dreadful sorry, Max," Amity said in a strained voice.

"Enough said, child. The dress is not suited to you but since our guests will be arriving in another few hours we will have to put our heads together to see how we might contrive."

The relief on Amity's upturned face sent a jolt of sensation much like a pain slicing through