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"Which dress, my lady?" Miss Cooper asked holding up two of Hester's favorite evening dresses, a pale olive-green and a lilac.
"The green, please, Miss Cooper," Hester said as she looked at her reflection in the dressing room mirror. Her hair had been done in an elaborate style that almost made her forget the boring color.
There was a knock at the door in Hester’s room. Miss Cooper hastened to open it and Sophia entered the dressing room a moment later. She was already dressed in a splendid bottle green dress, that brought out the green in her eyes and emphasized her bosom, while concealing, as much as was possible at this state, that Sophia was pregnant. She looked the diamond of the first water that she had always been.
Hester could not help but glance at her olive-green dress, hanging on the screen in the corner. No one had ever called her a diamond of the first water, but nor had she aspired to it either. The men who sought such a woman were not the men who were looking for a woman such as her, she had always reasoned. There was no reason not to wear a dress that she felt comfortable in along with disguising her lack of a bosom and her wide hips, simply to hope to attract other’s attention.
“Surely, you're not wearing that,” Sophia exclaimed. She had evidently seen the dress as well. She came to stand behind Hester, tugging at her curls and adjusting the pins a bit.
“Yes, it’s one of my favorites. Or do you think that I should choose the lilac instead now that you are wearing green?”
She acknowledged that clothes played a role in how other people perceived her, but she could not make herself care overly much. When others immediately were able to ascertain that a dress was last year's or yesteryear’s style, she merely saw the color and whether she liked it or not.
“I definitely think you should wear something else,” Sophia muttered as she crossed to Hester’s other dresses and began looking through them with the help of Miss Cooper. Hester could hear them discuss the dresses in hushed voices as she fingered her sketchbook that was on the dressing table. Closed of course. Her fingers began flipping through the pages almost of their own accord, even though she knew what she was looking for. She had just reached the drawing that Lord Lambourn had done this morning when there was a loud exclamation from Sophia.
“This one!” Sophia stated and a yellow gown floated in front of her as she approached the dressing table.
“No,” Hester said decisively and rose.
She had let the modiste and her mother talk her into the dress: a golden yellow, meant to emphasize her eyes and bring out the blonde in her hair. To that extent, it worked, but it was the most low-cut dress she owned as well and had been padded in the front to give the illusion of a cleavage.
Hester had worn it once and had decidedly despised the experience. She felt too exposed in it. She had constantly had to refrain from looking at her bosom to make sure that she was not showing too much.
“I can’t... I look ridiculous in it,” she blurted as if her first expression had not been enough.
“It’s truly beautiful. I have not seen you in it before. Is it new?” Sophia asked and looked lovingly at the dress.
“It’s not, and I’m not wearing it.”
Hester could feel the heat rise in her cheeks at the thought of emerging in front of the entire house party in it. Everyone would think her desperate and wanton if she wore it.
“It’s much too revealing,” she felt the need to further explain, her hand gesturing to the area of her bosom as if Sophia needed it pointed out.
“Let me see you in it at least. Then I’ll help you choose another dress if you do not like it,” Sophia prodded, and Hester thought with a sigh that it might be the fastest way to dissuade her.
Miss Cooper helped her into the dress and Hester made a gesture with her arms, showing the dress to Sophia.
“Clearly, it’s too revealing,” Hester said and placed a hand on her exposed collar bones.
“It's not. You look lovely, Hester. Don’t you think, Miss Cooper?"
“Definitely, Lady Hester,” her lady's maid said with emphasis. Miss Cooper was a very fine lady’s maid and Hester sometimes felt a bit sorry for her that she had been saddled with a lady that was so indifferent to clothes and fashion. She was grateful however that Miss Cooper had remained with her since she had had her debut six years ago. When it came to clothes, she almost trusted Miss Cooper’s opinion more than she trusted Sophia’s.
Hester looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the dressing room. She had always thought that the color suited her, but her gaze was glued to her bosom. She adjusted the dress over her breasts, trying to pull it higher to make it less revealing.
“Everyone can see that it is padded,” she tried in a feeble attempt to dissuade Sophia.
“The ladies, yes. Not the gentlemen, and they certainly will not care, even if they can.” Sophia grinned. “Come along, we are running late. You do not have time to change.” Sophia took Hester’s arm and started moving out the door.
Hester scowled as Miss Cooper hurriedly handed her a matching shawl and slippers while trying to suppress a smile.
Thankfully the hallway was deserted and with any luck they would slip into a full drawing room and then Curtis would announce that dinner had been served the moment after. No one would notice, Hester told herself.
Running steps caught up with them as they were heading down the main staircase towards the ground floor.
“Wow, Hester, did you bathe today?” Archie asked with a grin.
Hester scowled at him, hoping that her vision for once would prove to be deadly. Or at least able to maim; she had no interest in killing her mother’s favorite son.
“You look lovely,” Sophia whispered to her as they started their descend. “You are horrible, Lord Archibald,” she told Archie over her shoulder.
“Everyone knows that, Lady Addinggrove. But alas what is a poor man to do now that you are no longer available to reform me? I have waited these four years to find someone as fair and patient as yourself,” he teased her.
Hester had suspected that Sophia had been a bit taken with Archie – as was most women – when they first became friends. Archie however was only one to tease and lightly flirt with debutantes. He did not seem interested in marrying and starting a family.
“I’m sure you’ll live, Archie. In any event, you won’t need a woman but a lion tamer to reform you,” Hester shot back at him.
“I’m not sure if that is a barb or a compliment, Hester,” he murmured.
“Oh, definitely a barb,” Hester said. “The lion tamer would use a whip.”
“Again, I’m not sure if I would not prefer the lion tamer.” Archie’s voice had lowered considerately as they neared the door to the drawing room.
Sophia giggled, Archie chuckled, and Hester flushed as she realized she had clearly made an unintended reference to the marital act.
“I’ll explain it to you later,” Sophia whispered to her as they entered the drawing room.
Hester had completely forgotten about her dress while trying to figure out how exactly whips were involved in marital duties, but her blush only deepened as all eyes sought her for a moment and both Percy Eavesgrave, Algernon Gaywood, and Francis Drummond came rushing to her side, showering her with compliments.
She clutched Sophia’s arm, desperate for any kind of support. She was glad when Curtis announced that dinner was served shortly after. She was seated next to Percy Eavesgrave tonight across from Lord Lambourn and Miss Gaywood.
She tried to focus only on Percy Eavesgrave and not his brother. It was startling how alike they were in looks and how different they were in personality.
Percy Eavesgrave was entertaining and charming, completely unlike he had been yesterday. Hester was not certain whether he was flirting with her or simply being amiable. Talking to him today felt much like talking to Archie and they quickly fell into a light banter.
On the other side of the table, Lord Lambourn and Miss Gaywood were conversing quietly, often pausing to sit in silence and eat their food.
Even though Hester had only rested her eyes on Lord Lambourn for a moment, she still felt heat come to her cheeks as she remembered how she had felt that morning in the forest. It reminded her of their conversation of favorite foods though, which would be a perfect topic for her conversation with Mr. Eavesgrave. She asked him in a voice that she hoped held a hint of flirtation about what his favorite food was.
“Don’t have him talk about food, Lady Hester. He will monopolize the conversation for the rest of the evening,” Lord Lambourn broke in from the other side of the table.
Hester stared at him for a moment, not sure how to respond. She had not been aware that he could hear their conversation.
“Well,” was all she was able to say as she felt herself blush even deeper. She knew she had to say something, anything. At least look away from Lord Lambourn, but all she could do was stare at him, at his dark brown eyes that met hers with a steady firm gaze as her mind was completely blank.
“Do not listen to him, Lady Hester. I will be able to talk with brevity. I’ll only monopolize the conversation for about ten minutes when the topic is food,” Percy Eavesgrave offered smoothly, sending his brother a look that she could not interpret.
“We’ll have to see then,” Hester managed, trying to regain some of the flirt that had been there before. “We’ll start at the end. Favorite dessert?”
“Anything with raspberry, of course,” Percy Eavesgrave answered.
***
Flint scowled at his baked custard. He had no business interrupting Lady Hester’s conversation with Percy and yet he absolutely felt like it.
She was smiling and flirting with him in her own inquisitory, adorable way. He supposed everything was as it should be, except that he had decided that she under no circumstances would become his sister-in-law. And that he wanted to be the one who was questioned about food as if it was the most serious topic in the world. And that he wanted to be the one sitting next to her and be able to enjoy the view of her delightful decolletage. Her dress clung to her figure in a way that he had not seen before, and he had to fight not to openly stare at her.
Beside him, Cecilia tried to keep their stilted conversation going, but he was certain that she could feel something was the matter. He glanced at her as he made yet another effort in trying to engage in the conversation. Her dress was probably as low-cut as Lady Hester’s and yet it did not affect him at all.
Flint took a deep breath, then an equally deep sip of his wine. He should never have come. He had thought he would be able to control his feelings, but he had only been here a day and a half, and his emotions were already becoming unmanageable. Spending this much time in Lady Hester’s company was not healthy for him. Perhaps he should simply depart. Let someone else marry her and then avoid her for the rest of his life.
He would be content with Cecilia, and she would be content with him because she was not looking for a love match either. Both of them were looking for a sensible, reasonable partnership with someone they liked and respected. Not a world-changing kind of love that could completely throw your life off its trajectory if you were not careful. Flint had seen it happen and had to live with the consequences of it. He could not indulge in it himself.
“You never fully explained to me which types of owls you liked to watch as a child, Mr. Eavesgrave,” Lady Hester stated from the other side of the table. Something in her tone of voice told Flint that she knew Percy did not care for birds at all.
Flint looked up to be able to see the expression on his brother’s face as he answered.
“The one living in the tower across from the nursery,” Percy answered smoothly.
“Truly, Mr. Eavesgrave? I had no idea you were interested in birds as well,” Cecilia asked beside him. A gentle, genuine interest in her voice.
Flint glanced at her curiously, but she looked only at his brother as he answered.
“Why, yes, Miss Gaywood. I find birds of prey extremely fascinating,” Percy answered. The smug smile told Flint that he thought the whole situation amusing.
Percy had to care somewhat about winning Lady Hester’s hand if he lied about his interests. Perhaps the sight of her in pantaloons had also ignited his interest. Flint had certainly heard him comment below his breath to the other gentlemen that it had just become more interesting. The thought annoyed Flint as a stone in his shoe. He thought he had deterred Lady Hester from thinking Percy an option, but perhaps he had been wrong.
“Yes, but which kind?” Lady Hester persisted.
“The kind that lives in towers,” Percy answered, a bit thrown off by her persistence. Granted most other ladies would have caught on to the fact that Percy had no clue which types of bird it was. But not Lady Hester, yet her naïve tenaciousness was only endearing.
“Was this at Barford Abbey?” Cecilia asked beside him. Something in her tone of voice told him that she was aware of Percy’s ignorance and was trying to save him from having to admit it. Which was very thoughtful, yet somehow it did not appeal as much to him as Lady Hester’s persistence did.
“Yes, indeed, Miss Gaywood. You are going to quite like it there,” Percy told Cecilia.
“Yes, but which type of owl will she be able to see?” Flint could not help but tease his brother.
Percy frowned at him, and Flint had to hide his smirk.
“Perhaps you can describe it to me and then I can tell you which type it was,” Lady Hester offered beside his brother.
“It was dark, I could hardly see it clearly. I merely found it fascinating that it took off at night,” he said, seemingly regretting ever having mentioned the bird in the first place.
“But you must have been able to make out some details. The ears? The size? The coloring perhaps?” Lady Hester persisted.
“Eh,” was Percy’s only reply.
Lady Hester enthusiastically started a monologue about the difference between owls. Percy actually began to look a bit hesitant that he might have to commit to an answer which Flint could not help but find amusing. Unfortunately, Percy was saved as the duchess rose to leave for the drawing room and the rest of the ladies followed.
And when he entered the drawing room about an hour later, Flint forgot all about his brother’s turmoil, since Miss Amy and Cecilia exclaimed in unison some of his most feared words:
“We are going to dance.”