It fell from the bodice, but rather than belling out, the silk was cut on the bias and hugged every curve of her body. “She sent Amelie to inform Maydrop that she donned an evening dress made of a heavy, supple olive green silk that gleamed under candlelight. "It's a rare man who knows his fairy tales.” "How lucky you are in your husband," she said to Claribel. "I could not resist," Theo said, with that smile that was all the more attractive for being so rarely seen. "Gorgeous swansdown, and every man and woman in this room has taken note of your swanlike triumph."
But Cecil, clever Cecil, obviously did, because he bellowed with laughter. "Then tell me this: am I being altogether too obvious?"Ĭlaribel hadn't the faintest idea what she meant. "I can guess," Cecil put in, the thread of amusement in his voice even stronger. "What on earth is that made of?" Claribel couldn't help asking as she reached out to touch it. The inside was lined with a gorgeous rosy silk, and the outside. It sprang out from Lady Islay's shoulders and then swirled to the ground, managing to look surprisingly light. "If you're quite sure that you won't grow overwarm," Claribel said uncertainly, eyeing the cape. “I'm quite certain that Theo plans to wear her cape for at least part of the evening." There was a note of amusement in his voice. Or perhaps the wrist would be more dramatic.” It would be even better if the sleeves weren't opaque fabric but nearly transparent, like that new Indian silk her friend Lucinda had been wearing the previous night, and she would have them quite wide, so they billowed and gathered tight at the elbow. That led to the idea that she could put a ruff at the neck and trim that with a narrow strip of swansdown. Or she could put a feather trim at the neck the white would look shocking against the plum velvet. Or perhaps swansdown, with the same at the neck. If her sleeves were elbow-length, she could trim them with a narrow edging of black fur. Her only hair adornment would be an enormous feather- a black one- arching backward so it brushed her shoulder. Given a choice, she would dress in plum-colored silk and sleek her hair away from her face without a single flyaway curl.
There was something dreadfully banal about the way the pearls shimmered.įor a moment she distracted herself by mentally ripping her dress apart, stripping it of its ruffles and pearls and tiny sleeves. If she didn't have to worry about people mistaking her for a boy- not that they really did, but they couldn't stop remarking on the resemblance at any rate, if she didn't have to worry about that- she would never again wear pink. “She loathed her profile almost as much as she loathed the dress.
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