Free Her Ladyship's Man by Joan Overfield

was white,as was the custom set by the patronesses at Almacks, but there all similarity to the gowns usually worn by debutantes ended. Fashioned out of silk, the gown clung lovingly to her curves, displaying her femininity in a manner which Melanie found faintly shocking. The rounded neckline exposed her neck and shoulders, and was cut low enough so that the gentle swell of her breasts was clearly visible.
    She turned slightly, and the hundreds of sparkling rhinestones which had been carefully sewn to the bodice and slim skirts exploded into a dazzling display of pure fire. A ribbon with more rhinestones attached to it tied beneath her breasts, giving the impression she was dressed in a shower of diamonds. Even the aigrette in her hair was ablaze with rhinestones, and Melanie knew she had never looked lovelier. Perhaps, she brooded, nervously fingering the skirts of her gown, society would not be as horrible as she had feared it would be.
    "There." Lady Charlotte stepped back, eyeing her granddaughter with pride. "You look like a fairy princess. I vow there won't be a man there tonight who won't fancy himself madly in love with you!"
    "Thank you, my lady," Melanie said, turning to give her grandmother an impulsive hug. "May I say you are also looking quite attractive? That is a new gown, is it not?" She studied the fashionable ball gown of black satin with relief. She had been secretly fearing her grandmother would appear at Almacks in one of the gowns she had brought with her from the country and which had been out of fashion for more than fifty years.
    "Edwina made me wear it," Lady Charlotte replied with a childish pout. "She said it was just what Lady Catherine might wear. Do you like it?"
    "It is quite fetching," Melanie assured her, not asking who Lady Catherine might be. Her grandmother had developed Miss Evingale's habit of mistaking the characters in their beloved novels for real flesh and blood people. Lady Catherine was doubtlessly some heroine out of one of the books they devoured with such glee. "I also approve of your turban, ma'am. Most dashing."
    "That was my idea." Lady Charlotte reached up to give the white plume adorning her black turban a loving pat. "I decided my wigs looked odd without those lovely polonaises, and I must own it is far more comfortable. Perhaps I shall wear them more often."
    "That might be wise," Melanie approved, guiding her grandmother from the room and down the stairs to where the others were waiting for them. "And another new gown wouldn't go amiss either," she added, images of weaning her eccentric grandmother from her outmoded wardrobe tugging at her mind.
    Both her father and Mr. Barrymore were loud in their praises of her new gown, and there were tears in her father's eyes as he pressed a kiss to her gloved hand.
    "If only your beloved mother were alive to see you tonight, my dearest," he said, gazing upon her with loving pride. "I have never seen you looking so lovely."
    "Thank you, Papa." Melanie blinked back tears of her own, deeply touched by her father's words. Her eyes drifted over to Davies, who was standing beside her maid, her cape of deep purple velvet draped across his arm. Although his face was carefully devoid of any expression, she thought she detected a flash of masculine appreciation in his hazel eyes, and she turned quickly away.
    "I am in agreement with your father, my lady," Mr. Barrymore said, giving Melanie a low bow. "You are indeed a vision to behold. Those amethysts are new, are they not?"
    "Yes, a gift from my grandmother to celebrate my first evening at Almacks," Melanie answered, rubbing a finger across the chain of glowing purple stones that circled her neck. A small circlet of amethysts and diamonds was clasped around her slender wrist, while two large teardrop stones dangled from her ears.
    "May I presume upon your good graces and bespeak a dance, my lady?" Mr. Barrymore continued, his blue eyes filled with admiration. "I dare say your card will be