The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)(16)

“Isn’t that a bit, um… small?” Sara asked. She had never seen a corset so scandalously little and tight.

“Oh sorry, miss. This is the new French corset. It is much more comfortable than the whalebone corsets which have been gracing the ton. Many of the ladies will be wearing these particular corsets tonight; although, only a few can get away with them, considering they do not hold much in.” She turned red and began helping Sara finish dressing.

Davina was right. Sara looked into the mirror and gasped. She was wearing a blue ball gown with a revealing low neckline. It was one of the gowns Madame Fran?ois had discussed with her; however, she wasn’t aware it would be so low cut. She felt almost naked. The corset she wore also did nothing to hide her tiny waist, but it did accentuate her hips. It was short and light for a corset.

She liked the way the fabric flowed freely from her hips. In fact, the dress didn’t appear like a French style at all. Looking in the mirror, Sara felt very much like a Grecian princess she read about in her books.

She smiled into the mirror as Davina dressed her hair. “Would you like me to add some kohl to your eyes, my lady?”

Sara shrugged her shoulders; it couldn’t make her any uglier. Davina rubbed her eyelashes in kohl then took out some rouge and painted her face. “You look beautiful.”

Sara knew this was a moment in her life she would never forget. It wasn’t that she actually believed Davina, but the fact Davina said it so honestly left her with some small hope it might be true. It was the first time anyone in Sara’s life called her beautiful. She held her breath to keep from crying. Smiling at Davina, her throat constricted painfully. “Thank you.”

She turned to look at herself in the mirror when another knock sounded at the door. Davina rushed to open it. Aunt Tilda strolled in and twirled her dress for Sara. “Isn’t it divine? It’s positively shimmering with crystals!” Aunt Tilda looked thrilled, but Sara was appalled. That dress could feed a small country—it was worth a fortune! Why not just donate the dress to her family, so she doesn’t have to suffer through the season?

Her aunt looked at her strangely. “That’s hardly the reaction I was hoping for, my dear. I do say! Well, don’t just stand there gawking. Hurry along. Lord Renwick is waiting.”



***



Nicholas took a deep breath as he was let inside Lady Fenton’s home. It was embarrassing how long it took him to get ready. Normally he didn’t spend this much time dressing. Today it took him four hours. Granted, he’d ruined at least seven cravats in the process, not to mention torn a hole in his pants after tripping over his own shoe. This in turn caused his groom to ask him if he’d been drinking. He wished. At least it would give him an excuse for his odd behavior. The title of perpetual drunk did have a certain ring to it, but then again anything was better than “lovesick schoolboy.” He shuddered at the thought.

Nicholas’s valet, who seemed to get more irritated by the minute, went into the large closet and chose for him. The room was dark, fitting for his current mood. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the comfort of his large home to escort temptation itself to the ball.

Lifting his eyes heavenward, he prayed for strength and donned his tight black silk breeches, a long velvet coat with blue and gold seams, and his finest French silk shirt. The arrangement defined dark and dangerous. Hopefully Sai would get the hint. He tired of the drab clothing he had been wearing for the past two years. It served its purpose of allowing him to blend in with the rest of the ton—but tonight, well, tonight he only wanted one person’s attention, however suicidal that may be. He heard someone approaching and turned around.

His immediate reaction upon seeing her was to cough.

Then swear.

His heightened sense of arousal did nothing for his already nervous demeanor. Adjusting his pants, he let out a ragged exhale. He really shouldn’t have worn such tight breeches. What in the blazes had he been thinking?

No one would find him guilty of any coherent thought at the moment. His mouth dropped open when Sai made her entrance and twirled in a circle to present herself for Lady Fenton's approval.

Oh, how he loved twirling.

Her hair was piled around her head in a beautiful adornment of crystals. The longer he studied her the more he realized she looked like a Greek goddess—like Aphrodite herself. Everything about her screamed perfection, she smiled and curtsied. He had to put his hand on the back of the chair to steady his own shaky disposition. He felt faint….again. That would be twice in one day. She was not good for his newfound faith in a higher power. Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil… he prayed silently, trying desperately to bring some semblance of control back into his melting composure.

It became painfully obvious in that moment, one of two things would happen this night. Either he would die from unsatisfied lust, or he would beat to death the first man who laid a hand on her.

The thought of the other men brought with it the sudden impulse to immediately cover Sai's exposed chest with a napkin, or a table cloth, or better yet, his own hands—anything, just so other men wouldn’t take notice. But how could they not? Her low cut gown profoundly accentuated her perfect breasts. Yes, her skin was dark, but it cast a bronze glow from the vast expanse of skin, merely adding to the effect of the perfect likeness of Aphrodite.

“Perhaps you should take a moment to compose yourself, Nicholas,” Lady Fenton whispered stepping between him and Sai.