There on the balcony, leaning over and peering down into the entrance foyer, stood her father, his neckcloth hanging loosely over his starched white shirt. With the intention of asking Sewell to try to keep the guests a little quieter, Whitney slipped out of her room and into the hall. Her spirits lifted as she imagined her father’s happy surprise at finding relatives who had travelled from Bath, Brighton, London, and Hampshire to celebrate his birthday. Whitney glanced at the clock on her mantel it was six-thirty. Her father’s valet had been instructed to inform his master that “a few guests” had been invited for dinner, and that he was requested to come downstairs at seven o’clock. “You look like a princess,” Clarissa announced with a proud smile.įrom below and along the halls, Whitney heard the guests stealthily moving about. Topaz and diamonds glittered at her throat and ears, adding their fire to the matching strand of jewels twined in and out among the thick, shining curls of her elaborately coiffed hair. From the front, the gown fell in straight lines, widening slightly at the hem, but viewed from the back, it flared out into a graceful, flowing half train. The wide bell sleeves were trimmed with rich topaz satin from her elbows to her wrists, and a matching band of topaz adorned the hemline. Whitney’s elegant ivory satin gown shimmered in the candlelight, and its low, square-cut bodice molded itself to her breasts, displaying a tantalizing glimpse of the shadowy hollow between them. Three quarters of an hour later, her maid, Clarissa, stood back to survey Whitney’s appearance while Whitney dutifully turned around for her inspection. Then they could still announce their betrothal tonight.
Still, she reasoned hopefully as she lathered herself with carnation-scented soap, there was a chance that Paul might find an opportunity to draw her father aside during the party. How she wanted to see their collective reaction to the news that Paul and she were going to be married. Tonight would have been such a perfect occasion for announcing her betrothal the Ashtons and the Merrytons and everyone else of any consequence in the neighborhood would be at the party. “Thank you, Sewell,” Whitney called dejectedly. Reaching behind her, she tugged on the bellpull to summon her maid and reluctantly climbed out of bed, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom.ĭusk had fallen when Sewell finally tapped at Whitney’s bedroom door and informed her that her father had returned. Now, she worried that one of the thirty visiting guests might recognize Westmoreland, and then God knew what would happen to all the careful plans hatched by Martin and the duke. But she hadn’t known then of Whitney’s betrothal to the Duke of Claymore. Martin’s surprise birthday party had been Whitney’s idea and, at the time, Anne had immediately supported it, hoping it might help bring Martin closer to his daughter. She blinked at the dazzling sunlight and realized her head was pounding, while a feeling of foreboding crept over her. Lady Anne was awakened by the babble of vaguely familiar voices calling cheerful greetings to one another in the halls.
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