prefer to have short curls like mine?" Harriet put one hand up to pat her coiffured hair shaped closely to her head.
"Let me," said Briony, taking the offending strands into her own capable hands, and without as much as glancing into the mirror, she twisted them into a smooth chignon to lie neatly on the nape of her swan-like neck. Briony moved to a chest of drawers and retrieved a tucker of white Brussels lace, which she quickly fastened around her shoulders to cover the bare expanse of bosom which was revealed by the low neckline of her gown. Harriet groaned.
"Briony, my love, you cannot be seriously intending to grace an evening party where there is like to be dancing dressed like that?"
"What is wrong with my gown?" Briony asked in consternation, examining the white slip of muslin closely.
"Nothing is wrong with your gown," replied Harriet with some passion. "It is all the little extras which are ruining what might otherwise be a charming effect. Look at me. Do you find fault with my ensemble?" she entreated. "Do you think that I am dressed like a wanton?"
Briony appraised Harriet's gown, which was remarkably similar to her own except for the color. It was of pale blue muslin and suited Harriet's cornflower blue eyes and burnished gold curls to perfection. "Of course not," she answered. "You are everything you should be."
"Then why do you insist on making a dowd of yourself?" wailed Harriet. "Why don't you dress like me?"
"Because," replied Briony in patient accents, "I must be true to myself." Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled at Harriet, but that young lady was not to be so easily won over. She tried again.
"Briony dear, I am thinking only of your happiness." She hesitated to go on but anxiety on her friend's behalf compelled her. "I don't wish to see you mopie . Please believe me! You will never find partners dressed in that fashion. I know what I am speaking of. Young gentlemen are . . . repelled by ladies who appear to be prudes."
Briony was amused. "Do you take me for a prude, Harriet?"
"Of course not! Who better than I should know that you are no such thing? But it is the message that your whole demeanor tells."
"But when they come to know me better—"
"They will never come to know you at all," Harriet interrupted on a rising note. "Please forgive me for saying so," she went on bluntly, "but your appearance is positively eccentric. It is worse than eccentric; you look to be the veriest blue-stocking. No young gentleman would wish to solicit your acquaintance."
Briony was nonplussed. "But Harriet, this is the style I have customarily adopted, and the young gentlemen did not shun my company in Richmond."
"I daresay they didn't," responded Harriet. "But in Richmond—what did we attend? Nothing but family parties in neighbors' homes, or drives in the park—small fry. This evening is to be an assembly of the first stare—not so grand as a ball, I grant you, but grand enough for all that. Please Briony ," Harriet begged her cousin earnestly, "let yourself be guided by me in this."
No persuasion of Harriet's, however, could budge Briony once she had made up her mind. Nor would she believe that all the gentlemen were of such a frivolous disposition. It was with a heavy heart that Harriet accompanied Briony and Great Aunt Sophy to the Countess of Blaine's party at her house in Cavendish Square. It looked to be, thought Harriet, an evening of unmitigated disaster.
Chapter Six
Briony wanted only one thing—a dark, cavernous hole to creep into where she could be alone and cry out her misery in peace. At first, the evening gave every indication of being one that she should enjoy. That was until the dancing commenced in the adjacent apartment. One minute she was in the center of a group of bright, chattering girls, and the next moment they had deserted her, each of them captured by some graceful swain and carried off to the dance. Only Harriet stuck grimly to Briony like a limpet as if she feared to let
"Let me," said Briony, taking the offending strands into her own capable hands, and without as much as glancing into the mirror, she twisted them into a smooth chignon to lie neatly on the nape of her swan-like neck. Briony moved to a chest of drawers and retrieved a tucker of white Brussels lace, which she quickly fastened around her shoulders to cover the bare expanse of bosom which was revealed by the low neckline of her gown. Harriet groaned.
"Briony, my love, you cannot be seriously intending to grace an evening party where there is like to be dancing dressed like that?"
"What is wrong with my gown?" Briony asked in consternation, examining the white slip of muslin closely.
"Nothing is wrong with your gown," replied Harriet with some passion. "It is all the little extras which are ruining what might otherwise be a charming effect. Look at me. Do you find fault with my ensemble?" she entreated. "Do you think that I am dressed like a wanton?"
Briony appraised Harriet's gown, which was remarkably similar to her own except for the color. It was of pale blue muslin and suited Harriet's cornflower blue eyes and burnished gold curls to perfection. "Of course not," she answered. "You are everything you should be."
"Then why do you insist on making a dowd of yourself?" wailed Harriet. "Why don't you dress like me?"
"Because," replied Briony in patient accents, "I must be true to myself." Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled at Harriet, but that young lady was not to be so easily won over. She tried again.
"Briony dear, I am thinking only of your happiness." She hesitated to go on but anxiety on her friend's behalf compelled her. "I don't wish to see you mopie . Please believe me! You will never find partners dressed in that fashion. I know what I am speaking of. Young gentlemen are . . . repelled by ladies who appear to be prudes."
Briony was amused. "Do you take me for a prude, Harriet?"
"Of course not! Who better than I should know that you are no such thing? But it is the message that your whole demeanor tells."
"But when they come to know me better—"
"They will never come to know you at all," Harriet interrupted on a rising note. "Please forgive me for saying so," she went on bluntly, "but your appearance is positively eccentric. It is worse than eccentric; you look to be the veriest blue-stocking. No young gentleman would wish to solicit your acquaintance."
Briony was nonplussed. "But Harriet, this is the style I have customarily adopted, and the young gentlemen did not shun my company in Richmond."
"I daresay they didn't," responded Harriet. "But in Richmond—what did we attend? Nothing but family parties in neighbors' homes, or drives in the park—small fry. This evening is to be an assembly of the first stare—not so grand as a ball, I grant you, but grand enough for all that. Please Briony ," Harriet begged her cousin earnestly, "let yourself be guided by me in this."
No persuasion of Harriet's, however, could budge Briony once she had made up her mind. Nor would she believe that all the gentlemen were of such a frivolous disposition. It was with a heavy heart that Harriet accompanied Briony and Great Aunt Sophy to the Countess of Blaine's party at her house in Cavendish Square. It looked to be, thought Harriet, an evening of unmitigated disaster.
Chapter Six
Briony wanted only one thing—a dark, cavernous hole to creep into where she could be alone and cry out her misery in peace. At first, the evening gave every indication of being one that she should enjoy. That was until the dancing commenced in the adjacent apartment. One minute she was in the center of a group of bright, chattering girls, and the next moment they had deserted her, each of them captured by some graceful swain and carried off to the dance. Only Harriet stuck grimly to Briony like a limpet as if she feared to let
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