drape closely to Harriet’s figure. Short capped sleeves decorated with knots of ribbon set off the elegant line of her shoulders. The color, a pale blue-green, was a perfect complement to Harriet’s hair and eyes. The neckline, cut square and deep, showed the shape of her bosom quite nicely.
Devorgilla came into the room. “Harriet, dearest, the gown is stunning, truly! It becomes you very well. I promise you will look as elegant as a swan.”
“A swan with half its feathers plucked.”
Devorgilla took Harriet’s hands and turned to face her. “My dearest Harriet, you are like a daughter to me. Before she died, I promised your mother that I would watch over you. Do you honestly believe I would allow you to go out on this, the most important night of your life thus far, dressed inappropriately?”
Harriet stared at her, mute.
“Well, do you?”
Slowly, tentatively, she shook her head.
“Of course I wouldn’t. Now listen to me. Up until the past several days, you have lived your life sheltered from the rest of the world. You have never been to the city, have never moved about in elegant society. The time has now come to stop hiding your light, Harriet Macquair Drynan, and let it shine for all to see!”
Wearing that dress, there wouldn’t be much of her that wouldn’t be seen . . .
Still, Harriet knew that her aunt was right. At home in Galloway, she could wear her serviceable woolens and linens. But if she wanted to catch the eye of a young man, she would need to stand out. And, besides, what else could she do? She had nothing else appropriate to wear to the assembly, and she simply couldn’t afford to miss the opportunity of this night.
By the time Delphine put the finishing touches to Harriet’s coiffure, she no longer resembled herself in any manner. Her scalp stung from all the tugging and pulling it had taken to create this work of art, but as she looked on it in the mirror, Harriet had to admit it had all been worth it.
Her hair had been curled and twisted and pinned into a style that left tight corkscrew ringlets of red hanging about her neck and dangling down against one cheek. A pretty bit of matching ribbon provided the finishing touch. The end result, the gown, the hair, the white silk gloves that reached to her elbows, all of it came together perfectly, even if she was showing more of herself than she’d ever dreamed decently possible. But just when she’d thought the preparations complete, Devorgilla returned to Harriet’s chamber, dressed for the assembly, and carrying a small velvet-covered box.
“My dear, these were your mother’s. She charged me with the responsibility of giving them to you when the time was right. I do not think there can be any more appropriate time than now.”
Harriet opened the lid carefully. An elegant pearl necklace set with a stunning single emerald pendant lay inside with a matching pair of earrings alongside. They were the finest things Harriet had ever seen.
“Oh, Auntie Gill, they’re beautiful.”
“Not nearly as beautiful as you will be wearing them,” Devorgilla said, unfastening the clasp as she set the circle of them around Harriet’s slender neck. The emerald slid to rest just above the curve of her breasts. The earrings sparkled and flashed, glowing with facets of green fire in the lamplight as Harriet stared at her reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, the memory of her mother struck her with a wave of long-hidden emotion.
“I can still remember how beautiful she was,” she whispered softly.
“And you are every bit as beautiful, dear. Now, then, enough of those tears else Delphine will have to powder your cheeks again. Are you ready to go?”
Harriet took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and nodded.
Sir Hugh beamed at the vision of his daughter descending the stairs before him wearing the heirloom wedding present he had given his wife three decades before. “Oh, sweet Harriet, how very much you look like your mother the first
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