Free Innocence Lost by Tiffany Green Page A

“What?"
    "I am taking you to the finest modiste in London today,” Julian said as he folded his paper and set it aside.
    "For what?"
    His brows sprang up. Good Lord, Julian had actually thought she would be pleased with this bit of news? “For your presentation into Society."
    She shook her head. “But I'm not going."
    "Of course you are."
    "How can I attend those galas knowing that Mother and Father could be stranded somewhere, starving to death?” The tears that sprang to her eyes were mostly real. She gave a sniff for good measure. Truly, she had no desire to be out in Society, around so many people all the time.
    Julian rubbed each temple with his first two fingers. “Look, Megan, Mother and Father had already planned your coming-out and would want you to go. You know that upon their return, they will demand every detail of every party you attended. And if they return before the season is out, they will expect you to be ready. Either way, Moppet, we must have you fitted right away."
    Megan opened her mouth to argue, but Julian was right, curse him. Mother and Father would expect her not to sit about and mourn their absence. But what had happened with Nicholas made her heart ache. How could she go out and have a good time when she was sure to see him? How could she act like nothing had happened between them?
    Her brother rose from his seat and walked around Father's empty chair. He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. “Don't fret, little one. They will be home soon, I assure you.” He kissed her forehead and brought her to her feet. She squelched a groan when he informed her that they would depart in a quarter of an hour. She would rather clean the privy every day for a year than get fitted for clothes she didn't want in order to attend a Season she didn't want. How would she get through this?
    The journey to Madam Devereux's House of Fashion in Berkeley Square took an eternity as carriages, coaches and wagons crowded the street. But Megan didn't mind that half as much as being pinched, poked, and prodded by a dozen French women fitting her for what seemed a hundred gowns of varying styles and fabrics.
    Julian paid a blasted fortune to have her dressed to the nines by the start of the season. Indeed, Madame Devereux was already aghast at having to fit another few gowns into her busy schedule when her brother withdrew that exorbitant block of notes from his pocket and insisted on an entire trousseau. Seeing this, though, the French woman plastered a smile across her painted lips and accepted.
    As another pin found its mark in her flesh, she grimaced and vowed to get even with her dear brother. If he disliked balls and galas before, he'd certainly loathe them by the end of the Season.
    That thought almost made her chuckle.
    Finally, after four hours of torture, Julian assisted her back into the carriage. The return to the townhouse would be slower, she noted with a sigh, seeing even more wagons and people in the street than when they'd set out this morning.
    She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she roused when the carriage halted. Between the hectic day and lack of sleep the night before, exhaustion found her. The restorative tonic wasn't so restorative either. A footman assisted her from the tall vehicle.
    As she reached the front door, she heard her name. Spinning around, she noticed Nicholas leading his horse toward them. “I would like to speak to you,” he stated.
    Recalling the conversation with Julian last evening, she tamped back her burst of joy and lifted her chin. “There is nothing you have to say, Your Grace, that I wish to hear."
    His eyes widened a fraction. “Meg?"
    "Don't you dare call me that,” she said as the impact of his betrayal rushed back into her tattered heart.
    He shook his head. “Why are you acting this way? Yesterday—"
    "I learned the truth behind your intentions, Your Grace."
    "I told you to stay away, Claremont,” Julian said from behind her. “Megan, go into