Free The Virtuous Ward (Sweet Deception Regency #5) by Karla Darcy

mistress, eyeing the dress from every angle. Her long nose was wrinkled as she debated what to do for the best. "I thought perhaps with your hair up in curls one wouldn't notice the dress. Ain't much of an improvement."
    Amity stared wistfully at the intricate shower of ringlets and had to agree with her friend's opinion. The ornate arrangement of curls only emphasized the fussiness of the dress. They had already spent several hours trying different hairstyles but none of them had diminished the effect of the gown. She was doomed.
    At the light scratching on the hall door, the girls froze and exchanged apprehensive glances. Moments later the sound was repeated with a decided impatience to the summons. Shrugging in resignation, Amity waved her hand to Betta who opened the door. Much to their surprise it was Max who stood transfixed in the doorway.
    "Good Lord, Amity! What is that?"
    "It's my gown for this evening." Amity raised her chin, forced by pride to defend the much-maligned dress.
    "Devil, you say!" Max blurted out then clamped his mouth shut when he saw the look of misery on the girl's face. With a momentary hesitation, he closed the door and strode into the center of the room. "Turn around, Amity. I wish to be privy to the sensational features of your gown."
    Cheeks flushed in embarrassment, Amity turned in a circle, coming to a stop facing him. Her head was bent because she had little desire to see the contempt in his eyes for her ludicrous costume.
    Max felt as though he had taken a blow to his ribcage. How was it possible that the girl was wearing a dress that was so patently wrong for her? Honoria would never have permitted her to make such a choice. The dress was far more in Honoria's style than Amity's but he still did not understand how such a mistake could have been made. But more to the point, what on earth were they to do at this late hour?
    "I'm dreadful sorry, Max," Amity said in a strained voice.
    "Enough said, child. The dress is not suited to you but since our guests will be arriving in another few hours we will have to put our heads together to see how we might contrive."
    The relief on Amity's upturned face sent a jolt of sensation much like a pain slicing through Max's chest. He should be angry that the girl had made such a hash of things but she looked so woebegone that he did not have the heart to lecture her. Later there would be time for recriminations, now there was work to be done if they were not all to land in the soup. Folding his arms over his chest, Max stared at the gown through narrowed eyes.
    "Turn again so I may see the back." He cocked his head to the side then raised his hand to pull at his lower lip. "You. Girl," he said turning to the young abigail who was wringing her hands in her apron. "Come over here."
    "Aye, sir," Betta said, her voice shaking with nervousness. She bobbed a curtsy, standing with eyes lowered in front of Lord Kampford.
    Max liked the look of the neat little figure. She was of an age with his ward and her plain face and clean appearance was a far cry from the slipshod servants he had seen in other houses. Although reluctant to give full approval to Amity's selection, he was in general pleased with the girl. "Your name?"
    "Betta, milord," she said, bobbing another curtsy.
    "Can you sew, Betta?" he asked.
    "Only the most basic stitches."
    "It'll do. For a start, cut off that sash and every one of those ever-so-charming bows."
    Then ignoring the girls, he stalked to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. He eyed the contents, extending a hand to finger a material, then shaking his head in rejection. Finally he extracted a dress of soft wool, nodding in approval of the blues and greens of the plaid. He remembered the night Amity had arrived at Edgeworth. She had worn the dress to dinner and he remembered how startled he had been at the transformation of the gawky child into such an exotic creature. He turned to stare at Amity and a small grin tugged at the corner of