A Sense of Sin by Elizabeth Essex

the process of selecting material and making up a new gown. Not that she didn’t appreciate the finished results, for it was always better to look fashionable rather than invite censure by appearing ill-dressed, but she had never felt less like spending money on something so frivolous as bobbin lace. Another beautiful ball gown was not going to improve her marriage prospects as much as the lack of blackmail money was going to ruin them.
    She knew she was fortunate, beyond lucky, to have Bains, who liked nothing better than to design and make Celia’s gowns, and bargain hard with the tradespeople. Bains was more than excellent—she was inspired and tenacious. Lady Caroline, who knew the value of a skillful servant in more ways than one, had always paid without a quibble, for whatever materials Bains wanted. Celia did everything she could to assist her in bargaining the draper down, so she might save at least a few more precious pennies for her paltry war chest.
    They concluded their business at the drapers warehouse in no time—without Lady Caroline to contradict or second-guess her Bains was very decisive—and were headed past the booksellers, when Celia felt a light touch at her elbow.
    For a moment, her heart skipped and started within her chest. She had to take a breath before she was ready to face whoever had touched her arm. She could think of only one possibility. Rupert Delacorte, Viscount Darling.
    She turned with some surprise to find a petite young lady, smiling up at her. Miss Melissa Wainwright, a former friend from her days at school.
    “Oh, my! Melissa, what a lovely surprise. I have lately been thinking so often of school and dear Miss Hadley’s. How are you?”
    “Dear Miss Burke, do forgive me for imposing myself upon you.” Melissa’s cheeks were pink with a pretty blush.
    “Goodness, it is no imposition to greet an old friend. You will call me Celia, I hope, just as before. I am so very glad to see a friendly face.” Melissa was not exactly Lizzie, but then Celia was simply glad to have any ally at all. “Has it really been over a year since we last saw each other in Bath?”
    “Yes, I believe it was. A year ago Easter or so. Everyone left school so suddenly.”
    “Yes. But you must tell me what brings you to Dartmouth and how long you plan to stay.”
    “I am happy to say I have achieved a small independence and I thought to establish myself in a lovely, smaller city, where I already had some acquaintance.”
    “And so you have, and I am very glad for it. It is always a pleasure to see a friendly face. Have you come lately from Lincolnshire, or have you been traveling elsewhere? I have read Holbeach is a very handsome village.”
    “Fancy you remembering the name of my little village. I can scarcely remember it myself. I have not been there for many years.”
    “So you have traveled. How lovely. And have you been to London?”
    “I have not. My fortune is not such that it will allow London living, and I have no acquaintance there.”
    “But you cannot have come to Dartmouth all alone?”
    “No, indeed, I have my companion and chaperone, a lady of sterling reputation who will give some respectability and companionship to my small establishment. She is just there.” Melissa gestured towards an older lady with the lace cap and the dun-colored gown. “Mrs. Turbot.”
    Mrs. Turbot did indeed look every last, myopic inch the respectable companion lady, with her lace cap under her bonnet and her modest, but well-made clothes.
    “How lovely for you. May I become acquainted with her?”
    “You honor me,” Melissa said with another becoming blush.
    They had not been great friends at school, but Celia took a moment to notice how fresh and pretty Melissa was—a petite, vivacious doll of a girl. Once established in Dartmouth, and with the help of hostesses like Lady Caroline, Melissa would soon find herself much sought after at parties and balls, even if she did not possess a large dowry.