Three Weeks With Lady X(40)

The gown she put on was very nearly indecent, only because fashion and  her bosom were not in agreement. It was made of transparent rose-tinted  silk that swooped in drapes around the bodice before falling to the  floor. But there wasn't much bodice. In fact, the top only barely kept  her covered and the sleeves were no more than a frail length of gauze.  Marie bound up her hair in the front, with one of the newest bandeau,  and left all the rest of it to tumble down her back.

"It would be better if I could get your hair to take a curl," Marie fretted. She was fixing rosebuds to India's hair.

"I think it looks quite well," India said. Marie had shadowed her eyes  with kohl and painted her lips a darker rose than her gown. Her only  jewelry was a bracelet, a thin band of silver decorated with an  amethyst, very high on her right arm. "Should you add a few of those  amethyst pins?" she asked, standing up and turning slightly in order to  see her back in the glass.

"Just a few," Marie agreed, nimbly setting to work. When she was done,  each rosebud had a tiny sparkle, a flicker of purple light that  highlighted the unusual color of India's hair.                       
       
           



       

India slid her feet into narrow slippers embroidered with spangles, with  ribbons that crossed her ankles, just in case a gentleman caught sight  of her legs.

She made herself think about Lord Brody as she went down the stairs.  Thorn was right. Brody was a far better catch than the men who had  courted her to this point: he was powerful and graceful at the same  time. You could take one look at him and know that he would fight off a  marauding elephant.

What's more-and even more importantly-she felt instinctively that he  wasn't a bully. He would respect his wife and allow her to make most  decisions on her own. He would be a peaceful and calm husband, unlike  Thorn, whose wife would probably find herself quarrelling with him once a  day.

When she reached the entry, Fleming escorted her to the drawing room and  announced her, quite as if they hadn't been working side by side for  the last week.

Everyone turned around when she entered. Eleanor and Adelaide smiled;  the duke looked surprised. Thorn was standing at the mantelpiece with  Lord Brody. He froze when he caught sight of her, and his whole face  changed.

India let a little smile play on her lips, because she liked the look in his eyes.

The duke and duchess walked across the room while she was giving Thorn a  silent lesson in all the ways he had been mistaken in his assessment of  her wardrobe. His Grace bowed, and drawled, "I will take the advantage  of my age to say what every man in this room is thinking, Lady Xenobia.  You look extraordinarily beautiful."

India smiled at him and dropped a curtsy. Eleanor leaned forward and whispered, "I'm seeing a whole new India."

"I am retiring," India explained. "I felt some new gowns were called for."

"At this rate, you will cut a swath through the ton," the duke remarked.  "Perhaps I should warn the unsuspecting men in my club."

"Oh, I don't know," the duchess said, her eyes dancing. "My guess is  that India will be affianced before the next season begins."

"I see no need to rush," India told them.

Lord Brody joined them. "Lady Xenobia," he said, dropping into a bow as  he took her hand and kissed it. "You take my breath away. That," he  said, straightening, "is a tired remark, but nonetheless true."

Thorn strolled over, but his face was not nearly as admiring as Lord  Brody's. He bowed, but he didn't add a flourish, nor did he kiss her  hand.

"Lady Xenobia," Lord Brody said, turning his back on Thorn. "Would you walk with me?"

India took his arm and let herself enjoy the sensation of walking away from Thorn, so that he could see her hair down.

Lord Brody shared Thorn's overtly masculine air, but at the same time,  he was civilized. They moved slowly around the room, talking of his  stables. Before she knew it, India was offering suggestions. They had  just rounded the corner when she said, "For example, why do stalls  always have swinging doors? It would be much easier to negotiate a horse  out of a stall if the door slid, instead of swinging open."

She looked up at that moment to discover Thorn blocking their path.

"No one told me this was the time to promenade," he said, his tone growly and irritated.

India wrinkled her nose at him. "Thorn, don't you agree that stalls should have sliding doors rather than swinging ones?"

Brody made a sharp movement and-too late-she realized that she had  betrayed an entirely scandalous intimacy. "Do forgive me for addressing  Mr. Dautry with such familiarity, Lord Brody. He and I are quite like  siblings, as I have long been friends with Her Grace."

That was true . . . and not true. It was true that she had been friends  with Eleanor for years. It was most decidedly untrue that she had  sisterly feelings for Thorn.

"In that case," Lord Brody said, "I insist that you use my Christian  name as well. Would you do me the honor of addressing me as Vander?"

"His real name is Evander," Thorn told India. "We both arrived at Eton  as boys, whereupon Vander had to pummel any number of boys who thought  it amusing to address him as Eve."

"Did you always win?" India asked Vander, delighted to think of the two of them as boys.

He looked at her with a warm light in his eyes that was remarkably  attractive. "The only one I couldn't beat was Thorn. And that's because  he's an underhanded fighter-as you can imagine."

India raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

Thorn rocked back on his heels, and the look in his eyes wasn't warm but  scorching, and made her think about the night before. And Feather's  exploits. "Those fellows were bound by the rules of civility," he said,  drawling the words so that he sounded exactly like his father, the duke.  "I never have been."                       
       
           



       

Vander intervened. "Lady Xenobia," he said, "I would love to discuss  sliding doors, but I see that Lady Adelaide is summoning you."

"You look exquisite!" her godmother cried a moment later, squeezing  India's hands. She bent close and whispered, "And both those young men  are completely smitten, my dear."

"You are mistaken," India replied, as softly. "We both know where Thorn's affections lie, and I have barely met Lord Brody."

Adelaide chortled. "Oh, really? What do you think they're discussing right now?"

India glanced over her shoulder to see that Vander and Thorn were indeed  talking to each other with unhappy looks on their faces. One might even  say angry looks.

"You've set them against one another," Adelaide said happily.

"They are probably discussing the weather," India said firmly. "I  haven't said hello to Lala yet, and I must inquire about Lady  Rainsford's health."

Lala and Eleanor were seated in chairs that India had arranged before  the great windows looking toward the back gardens. She and Adelaide  joined them, and discovered that Lala-who, in India's experience, was  almost always silent-was babbling about having accompanied Dr. Hatfield  on his rounds.

"The baby," Lala was saying, "is no bigger than a scrap." She cradled  her arm to show Eleanor the size. "But she has a tuft of red hair, and  she was quite good at nursing!"

"Did Dr. Hatfield allow you to see a child being born?" Adelaide asked, scandalized.

In the normal course of events, no young lady was allowed to witness  something so indecorous. Last year, however, Mrs. Carlyle had demanded  that India hold her hand, and Adelaide had given in. India had found it  fascinating. A bit terrifying, but fascinating.

"Certainly not! Little Martha is two weeks old," Lala said.

Her eyes shone, and she went on to discuss the medical aspects of the  mother's confinement in a way that made India seriously rethink the  commonly held presumption that Miss Laetitia Rainsford was missing a  carriage wheel, if not two.

This must be what Thorn sees in Lala, she thought, losing the thread of  the conversation when Lala went on to tell Adelaide and Eleanor the  proper treatment for scabies. No one in society had glimpsed this side  of Lala, but Thorn must understand her better than anyone.

When the dinner gong sounded, the duchess took her husband's arm and  said to Thorn, "Darling, please accompany Miss Rainsford to the table.  Lord Brody, would you be kind enough to offer an arm to both Lady  Xenobia and Lady Adelaide?"

Adelaide chattered all the way to the dining room; India silently held  Vander's other arm. He glanced down at her and his smile widened. Thorn,  on the other hand, was obviously still cross; as he pulled out Lala's  chair, he snapped India a look that held more than a hint of fury.