Amy Lake by Lady Reggieand the Viscount Page B

getting an early start to this beautiful day, what?”
    I frowned.  “I am always awake at this hour.  Which you would know, if—”
    “But you’ll be at the Larkinton ball tonight, of course.”
    His tone was oddly serious.  I felt the prickling of unease, which I decided later must have been a premonition.  My brother never expressed interest in my social life. 
    But why shouldn’t he? I told myself.
    “I haven’t decided,” I said, which was untrue.
    My apprehension doubled as my brother sat down at the table across from me, his face serious and turning pale. 
    “Oh, you must!” he said, attempting a lighthearted tone, which fell flat.  “You love the Lark!”
    “Freddie, what are you on about?”  I was more irritated with him than I should have been, I suppose, but I had only just discovered, the evening before, that he intended to spend another fortnight at Threestone, the hunting lodge, and in preparation had purchased two cases of what I believe must be—by its price—the finest brandy in all of England.
    My brother recovered quickly.  “Oh, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” he said, giving me his most amiable smile.  This smile always works to excellent effect with our parents.  “I’m looking forward to accompanying my beautiful and charming sister, that’s all.”
    “Gods, Freddie,” I said, and almost stuck my tongue out at him.
    He left, and I forgot the matter, also forgetting to tell him that he would not, in fact, be accompanying me to the ball.  I was escaping to the Barre house that afternoon, so that I could pick a ball gown from one of Cassandra’s closets.  Cassie and I would make our way to the Lark in one of Sir Reginald’s carriages.  
    * * * *
     
    Of all the gowns I have ever borrowed from Cassie, I believe the one I wore that night is my favorite.  ’Twas ivory silk with a gauze overskirt.  The bodice was embroidered so heavily that it took on the appearance of light tapestry, with seed pearls outlining the neck.  The sleeves were of the same gauze as the overskirt, but cut partially through.  The bodice, I may also say, fit me to a trice.
    Although we are of similar height Cassandra is a bit larger on top than I am, and on previous occasions—when I had borrowed a gown—the maid had spent a few minutes making adjustments with needle and thread.  But the ivory silk fit as if ’twas made for me, and only much later did I discover that, indeed, it was.
    Miss Barre had decided the countess was never coming to her senses, and had given the necessary instructions to Madame Gaultier.  How she convinced her own parents to purchase an expensive ball gown that did not even fit her I do not know, although as I have said, Sir Reginald and Lady Cynthia tend to a benign inattention with respect to their daughter, and what Cassie wanted—   At any rate, I left for the Larkinton ball dressed in this beautiful ensemble, the gown paired with matching slippers and a shawl, and as I descended from the Barre carriage in front of the marquess’s townhouse, I felt as if my life was about to change.
    * * * *
     
    We spied Carys and Isolde first.  They were attended by their mother, and surrounded by an admiring flock of young men.  I looked for the viscount, unsuccessfully.
    “Where is he?” I whispered to Miss Barre.
    “Over there,” she replied, nodding in the direction of the orchestra.
    The viscount was in conversation with, of all people, my father.  The earl was red-faced and gesturing but admittedly, that is only usual for him.
    “Why is he talking to the earl?” I hissed.
    “Who knows?  ’Tis probably horses or some such.”  Cassandra was looking around the room for likely dance partners; there would soon be a line in front of us.  In the meantime, Amelia Hingham arrived, smiling and lovely in a watered silk.  She and Cassie began a comprehensive appraisal of the current fashions on display, the consensus being that waistlines were in danger of