The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(41)
She was almost afraid to touch the delicate fabric since her rough hands would undoubtedly mar the weave if it caught on her callouses. There was only one solution—when she prepared for tomorrow night’s ball, she’d ask for assistance when she dressed. The duchess had kindly assigned two lady’s maids to her and her sisters during their stay.
The next box was slightly larger. It contained an elegantly embroidered pair of stays that perfectly matched the chemise. Since this was a studier garment, she allowed herself to pet the soft fabric and caress the intricate pale pink and green flowers. The pattern was reminiscent of her old court dress, but much more intricately detailed. She took a deep breath and sighed. He must have told his mother about her dress.
With her lips tugging upward, she opened the third box. Inside the white paper, a pale-pink pair of dancing slippers decorated with seed pearls scattered throughout the silk begged to be touched. Reverently, she removed them from the box and discovered they were a perfect fit.
Finally, she opened the last box, the biggest of the four. When she uncovered the wrappings, her heart pounded, and she pressed her eyes shut. She carefully pulled out the most exquisite gown she’d ever laid eyes on. Made from the same blush-colored velvet she’d admired in Mademoiselle Mignon’s shop, the gown was the height of fashion. Cap sleeves met with a décolletage that dipped low. The lowered waist would emphasize her flat stomach while the slightly fuller skirt would hide her generous hips. It was daring and bold but with a hint of innocence that she loved.
Wearing such a dream ensemble would make her feel feminine for the first time in her life. A matching velvet wrap was included in the box with another note from Michael. Just in case we stroll outside were the only words on the card.
Unable to contain her joy, she burst into laughter. In her entire life, she’d never received such an elegant gift. For a moment, the thought that she shouldn’t accept the dress and the accompaniments stole her happiness—a joy she was starting to recognize regularly came from Michael.
Quickly, her common sense came to the forefront and pushed the hint of impropriety away. If the duchess had helped Michael shop for the magnificent clothing before her, who was she to refuse?
She held the dress to her body and stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror that faced the wardrobe. Instinctively, she swayed as she hummed a little ditty her mother had taught her.
It was a shame society’s strictures dictated she could share only two dances with Michael. If any more, The Midnight Cryer, the biggest gossip rag in all of England, would declare them married the next morning.
However, in her heart, a hope refused to grow quiet. She had truly started to care for the lovely man.
Indeed, he was a friend. But could she dare to hope for more?
She climbed into bed and refused to allow the lovely evening be ruined by her doubts. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to imagine and enjoy the dream of a husband and marriage.
She closed her eyes and imagined her husband lowering his lips to hers for a kiss. Before the generous curve of his mouth touched hers, she glanced in his face.
It was her David.
Chapter Eleven
The somewhat daunting and endless parade of guests finally trickled to a few dozen who stood in line to greet March and her sisters. The Duke of Langham stood between Bennett and March followed by Faith, Julia, and the Duchess of Langham. Though children weren’t normally allowed at such events, the duke had insisted Bennett stand in the receiving line to meet the members of parliament who attended. The duke considered such introductions part of Bennett’s education as to how to be a productive member of the House of Lords. Lord William had joined the receiving line midway through the introductions.
March had never seen so many people in her entire life. Everyone who was anyone had attended the duchess’s ball for the Lawson sisters. However, the most heartwarming were the men who had remembered her father and his service to the Crown. Bennett and her sisters were enchanted with the stories about their parents. She’d been struck by how generous the duke and duchess had been in the introductions, effusing how remarkable the Lawson sisters were and how much they enjoyed having them at Langham Hall.
Lady Pembrooke’s personal physician, Dr. Wade Camden, received a warm welcome from the duke and duchess. Tall with tawny-colored hair, the doctor was the epitome of grace and kindness.
When his attention turned to March, he didn’t hesitate in his introduction of his friend. “Miss Lawson, may I introduce Dr. Mark Kennett? He’s a colleague of mine from the University of Edinburgh,” the handsome doctor offered.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lawson,” said Dr. Kennett.
March extended her hand, and the doctor sketched a bow. With dark red hair and a Scottish burr, the man exuded confidence and a sense of ease.
“Are you newly arrived in town, Dr. Kennett?” Faith asked. She leaned slightly, the movement a cause for concern. Faith had little tolerance for standing long periods of time.
“No, Miss Faith. I have a fellowship at the Royal Academy of Physicians.”
“Kennett’s caught a case of modesty, I’m afraid,” Dr. Camden offered. “He recently presented to his distinguished peers a paper about the importance of exercise and manipulation of muscles as a way to increase one’s ambulatory abilities, and it was wildly praised.”
Dr. Kennett’s ruddy complexion turned redder as he flushed briefly. His gaze fell to Faith’s cane. “May I have one of your dances this evening?”