Free A Perfect Likeness by Sandra Heath Page A

something with a longer train, you must wear it. No doubt you have been informed that the couturière Madame Colbert is to visit Polwithiel to discuss the details of an entirely new wardrobe, and I trust that before the summer ball you will have one of her gowns to appear in. Cornwall society will be gathered in strength to cast its critical eyes over my nephew’s intended wife, missy, and you will not let him down. Is that also clear?”
    “Yes, your grace,” replied Bryony, disliking her but endeavoring not to show it by so much as a flicker of an eyelid.
    “Madame Colbert will attend to your outward appearance, but it is my misfortune to deal with everything else. I am a very strict mistress, as you will soon discover, and I also expect a very high standard. I do not expect to discover that you have had further dealings with your lover.”
    Bryony flushed angrily. “I have no lover!” she protested. “And Mr. Carmichael had no right to write the things he did.”
    The duchess’s face was cold. “Do you deny the existence of a liaison?”
    “Yes. I admit to knowing him, but I strongly deny that he is my lover.”
    “I trust you are right, missy,” said the duchess softly, “for it will be the worse for you if I discover you to be lying. I have been against this foolish match from the outset, because I regard it as a hopeless misalliance for my nephew. I warn you here and now that if I suspect anything where you are concerned, then I will consider it my duty to inform Sebastian and to strongly counsel him against proceeding with the betrothal.
    “The thought of you as Lady Sheringham appalls me, Miss St. Charles, and the further thought of you as a member of my family brings me to the edge of the vapors. I sincerely hope that you do not come up to scratch and that my nephew will see sense, but I will not deal dishonestly with you, of that you may be sure. If you do as you are told and learn what I have to teach, then I will swallow my considerable prejudice and will inform him that I am satisfied you have made the necessary grade. The betrothal will follow almost immediately. Have I made myself perfectly clear on all points, Miss St. Charles?”
    “Yes, your grace.”
    “Then you may go.”
    Bryony curtsied again, and then withdrew gladly from the room. In the corridor outside she paused for a moment, her eyes closed. This was far worse than anything she had dreamed of, and the duchess was more of a Gorgon than anything her daughter had hinted. Trembling a little, she endeavored to regain a little of her composure, and she presented a calm, collected face to the curious eyes of the servants she encountered as she retraced her steps to her private rooms. She had to endure it all, she simply had to! For the sake of Liskillen and her father.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    It seemed to Bryony that the hour for dinner approached at alarming speed. Feeling almost sick with apprehension at the thought of Sebastian and the countess, she still had to be mindful of what the duchess had said concerning appearance. She had always been proud of her long, curling hair and the thought of cutting it à la victime or à la guillotine was a little too drastic to contemplate, even though she conceded that on Delphine such short fashions were very becoming indeed.
    Kathleen was not used to modish coiffures, and she struggled a great deal to twist the light brown hair into a neat Grecian knot, but each time she tried to pin it in place it spilled from her fingers and she had to begin again. In the end, however, she managed to persuade it to remain where it was wanted, although she needed rather too many pins in order to achieve this. The pins had to be concealed with small sprays of artificial flowers, which Bryony trusted would meet with the duchess’s approval.
    The matter of a gown with a long train was quite another matter. Bryony simply did not possess one, and the only item in her entire wardrobe which presented some possibilities