Trapped at the Altar by Jane Feather

creature. Well, at least she could do without a corset, she reflected. It would do nothing for her at all. That was one small mercy. She stood still as Tilly draped the gold-embroidered cream silk underskirt over the petticoats and fastened it at her waist, then maneuvered a dark crimson silk gown over her head. The gown was looped at the sides to reveal the cream and gold underskirt, and the full sleeves ended at her elbows.
    â€œI’ll fetch the sleeve ruffs.” Tilly brought over the lacy ruffles that she had been ironing with such care. “Here they are, and beautifully pressed, if I says so myself,” she declared, buttoning them to the gown’s sleeves so that they fell in soft, creamy folds down to Ari’s wrists. “Beautiful you look, miss.”
    Ariadne fiddled with the lace-edged neckline of her gown. It was so wide it almost slipped off her shoulders,exposing what felt like a very chilly expanse of white skin. “If this is supposed to offer alluring hints of my bosom, it’s not very successful,” she remarked. “There’s nothing really to hint at.”
    â€œWell, maybe so, miss.” Tilly was ever realistic. “But the gown looks right pretty on you anyway, and you can always pretend there’s summat underneath.”
    Ariadne couldn’t help but laugh. It was all too absurd. The whole business was a farce. Why not imagine she had breasts like two bubbling puddings bursting from a low décolletage?
    Her lack of curves hadn’t troubled Gabriel, after all, and Ivor had never made any critical comments. Her laughter died on her lips. Just for a few moments, she had forgotten her present troubles.
    â€œSummat the matter, miss?” Tilly asked with concern. “You look as if someone walked over your grave.”
    Ari shook her head. “Oh, maybe someone did, Tilly. It’s passed now, anyway.” She ran her fingers through her tousled hair. “So what are we to do about this tangle?”
    â€œOh, it’ll brush out soon enough, miss. Then we’ll put it up in a knot and tease a few ringlets out. Your hair’s so thick and curly it always looks pretty. You sit down at the table, and I’ll fetch the brush and combs.” She disappeared up the narrow staircase at the corner of the room that led up to the small, simply furnished sleeping chamber. It was more of a sleeping loft than a real bedchamber, the sloping eaves making it hard for anyone much taller than Ariadne to stand upright.
    Ariadne took a small hand mirror from the mantelshelf. It was a precious possession, a piece of silver-backed glass, somewhat spotted with age but nevertheless highly prized. She stared at her reflection, seeing the gray eyes look back at her. What did other people see when they looked at her? she wondered. It was an interesting thought. She gave so little attention to her appearance in general, it had never occurred to her to wonder about other people’s impressions.
    â€œHere we are, then, and I’ve found some lovely velvet ribbon, too.” Tilly’s wooden-soled clogs clattered on the staircase as she hurried down into the living room, flourishing a length of crimson velvet ribbon. “Look perfect this will in your black hair, miss.”
    Ariadne sat at the table, holding the hand mirror so that she could watch Tilly’s progress. The girl’s fingers moved swiftly, teasing out the ringlets with one hand as she brushed with the other, until Ari’s hair, black as a raven’s wing, took on the almost purple sheen of a deep midnight sky. Tilly twisted the long strands into a thick knot that she piled high, securing it with silver-headed pins before tying the velvet ribbon around the knot, fastening an artful bow at the back. The glossy black ringlets curled around Ari’s ears, trembled against her cheeks, and gathered at the nape of her neck.
    â€œThere, now.” Tilly nodded her satisfaction.