Any Duchess Will Do (Spindle Cove #4)(74)
Author: Tessa Dare

From the largest box, she withdrew a breathtaking flash of silver.

Oh goodness.

The gown seemed to be at least three-fourths skirt. The bodice was small and tight, boned for stiffness and fitted with the shortest puffs of sleeves. The skirts were a cloud. A great shimmering, airy, fluffy cloud of tulle overlaying satin. Little sparkling things were affixed to the tulle by the thousands. It truly was a thing of wonder.

“Oh, Pauline,” Susanna said. “If any man can look at you in that and not simply fall to his knees before you . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“He’ll eat his own hat.” Minerva clapped with glee. “Do it. Do it for every young woman who ever felt scorned or overlooked. This is your chance, Pauline.”

Pauline ran a touch over the beautiful silver fabric, spangled with seed pearls and tiny crystals. She didn’t need to prove her worth to anyone. She didn’t need a lavish wardrobe or the wealth that accompanied the title of duchess.

But she needed to wear this gown, just this once. It was made for her. Literally.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

“One question,” said Susanna. “Do we tell the men about this?”

“No,” said Minerva stoutly. “Colin will steal all the credit. This is going to be our grand success. We’ll show everyone what Spindle Cove ladies can do.”

Pauline wasn’t so certain about that “success” part. She still doubted that she could ever blend in at such an event.

But after tonight, she could go home with her pride. No one could say she wasn’t brave enough to try.

“Corinthian.” As the carriage rolled up before the Prince Regent’s grand residence, the word just rolled from her tongue.

“What is it, Pauline?”

“Those columns on the portico. They’re Corinthian.”

Amazing. This week in London had taught her the strangest things. What an odd assortment of lessons she would bring home with her.

She still hadn’t learned how to hide her anxiety, however. It helped that Susanna and Minerva were clearly nervous, too.

“We’re not much good with balls, either,” Minerva confided. “Perhaps we should have warned you beforehand.”

“It’s all right,” said Susanna. “We’ll all go in as a group.”

As they made their way into the entrance hall, Susanna—the tallest of them—craned her neck to look over the crowd.

“Oh, drat,” she said. “They’re checking names against a list.”

That wasn’t good news. Pauline knew she’d been on the list earlier that week. But today’s gossip had no doubt removed her from it. Or perhaps moved her to another list—one written in red and headed with the words, Not to be admitted under any circumstance.

“You could give another name,” Minerva suggested. “You could be me. I don’t mind. Everyone will just assume I’ve removed my spectacles for once and undergone a thrilling transformation.”

“No.” Pauline smiled. “It’s kind of you, but I can’t. I must be here as myself or not at all.”

When the crowd shifted, she quietly remained in place and let her friends drift away. If this evening proceeded as disastrously as she suspected it might, she didn’t want Lady Rycliff and Lady Payne to be tainted by association. They’d brought her this far, but she must face the rest on her own.

Surely there was another way into the ballroom. There must be a smaller passageway for the staff. She was a servant; she could find it.

After a few moments’ surreptitious investigation, she turned down a narrow corridor. She passed near a clashing, steamy din that must have been the palace kitchen. When she spied a footman returning with a tray of empty glasses, she knew she needed to proceed in the direction he’d come.

Pauline traversed a passageway with stairs. At the top, she listened for the sounds of chatter and music. Turning toward the noise, she rounded a corner . . .

And reeled to a halt when she nearly collided with a finely dressed man.

“I’m sorry,” she started to apologize. “I—”

When she swept a look from his boots to his face, she gasped.

Oh, bollocks.

Fitted tailcoat. White gloves. An angry red line running down his left cheek.

“Lord Delacre.”

Griff had been right—that wound would probably leave a scar. Not a disfiguring one. Just a thin, indelible reminder.

Good.

“I knew I saw you here,” he said.

“Please excuse me.”

When she tried to move past him, he grabbed her arm. “I won’t let you do this. I’ve known Halford all his life, and I know what’s best for him even when he doesn’t.”

Her heart jumped. Did that mean Griff was here?

She pulled against Delacre’s grasp. “Let me go.”

Delacre didn’t frighten her—but he was a man, much larger and more powerful than she. Moreover, this was his native environment. His friends at this event numbered in the hundreds. She could count hers on one hand and still have a good many fingers left over.

She was outsized, outranked, outclassed. And unless she figured out a way around him, she would remain outside that ballroom forever.

“Is it money you want?” He released her arm and slid a bank note from his breast pocket. She could just make out the writing on it.

Five pounds.

He waved it at her. “Take it, then. And use the servants’ exit. This isn’t the place for you.”

That’s not for you, girl.

Her cheeks burned. With those words, he wasn’t Delacre anymore. He was every book that had ever been ripped from her hand. Every door that had ever been slammed on her.

She wanted to fight back, throw something. Spit in his face.

But this situation called for a different sort of phlegm.

She pulled her spine straight, lifted her chin and fixed him with a cool, direct look. “Go to hell.”

While he stood sputtering, she dashed past him and rejoined the crowd near the ballroom entry. Before she could lose her nerve, she cut ahead of the queue of waiting guests. Impolite, perhaps. But the gossips already knew her to be a serving girl—it wasn’t as though they could think much worse of her.

She gave her name to the majordomo, and he announced, “Miss Simms of Sussex.”

The ballroom went utterly silent, except for the thunder of her heart. Her hands trembled at her sides.

Breathe, she told herself.

And then: Go.

She let that transparent cord at her navel pull her forward, guiding her as she descended the small flight of stairs. As she walked, her gown caught the light of hundreds of candles and lamps, sending arrows of light in every direction.