Free La Petite Four by Regina Scott Page A

them around and then had the audacity to claim that she was watching for him ! While she had already admitted that his help had been welcome in facing down the beggar, he didn’t have to escort them home and then tell Warburton, in excruciating detail no doubt, about their activities. James Cropper was nothing but an overweening tattletale!
    “Are there any gowns up here?” Ariadne asked, poking at something tall, bulky, and draped in a white Holland cloth.
    Emily shrugged. “Who knows? Do not mistake this for entertainment. Warburton was doing us no favor.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Daphne said, venturing deeper into the space. “Who knows what we might find.” She raised the lantern Warburton had given them, and boxes, trunks, odd chairs, and mysterious shapes cast grotesque shadows in the golden light.
    “The treasures of the ages,” Ariadne intoned, lifting a gilded globe and giving it a spin. Dust flew out in all directions, and she sneezed.
    “Better treasure than Acantha ever had,” Priscilla said, bending over the trunk. “All I can say is that having someone steal her pearls is truly justice.” She lifted the leather-strapped lid and made a face. “Old bed linens. Try that one.”
    Daphne obligingly hung the lantern on a hook overhead and went to bend over one of the larger trunks.
    “But who would be so bold as to take them?” Ariadne mused, lifting another Holland cover and peering underneath. “Everyone we know is scared of her. Except for you, of course, Emily.”
    “Emily isn’t afraid of anything,” Daphne said, wrestling open the larger trunk nearest her. Her face brightened. “Oh, look, bonnets!”
    Priscilla and Ariadne hurried over and peered down into the depths. Emily came more slowly. It was rather nice that her friends thought her so fearless, but at the moment, fear was beginning to gain a hold on her. What if they could find no fault to lay at Lord Robert’s door, no reason to accuse him to His Grace? Would she actually have to marry the fellow?
    The attic felt tight suddenly, the roof too low, the air too stuffy to breathe. Emily rubbed her hands up and down the sleeves of her soft wool gown, but the panic grew worse.
    “Perfection,” Priscilla declared. She pulled a bonnet from the tissue that had wrapped it and clapped it on Ariadne’s head. “What do you think, Emily?”
    The woven white reed cage wrapped about Ariadne’s round face, dwarfing it. The four stuffed black birds on top stared out with a malevolent gleam in their amber glass eyes, and the twisted crimson fringe dangling at the bottom made Ariadne look as if her hair had caught on fire.
    The sight of Ariadne in the fluffy bonnet melted Emily’s panic and she started to giggle. “Very fetching. You should wear it to the ball.”
    Ariadne rolled her eyes and pulled it off. “No, thank you. I intend to pick my own gowns and bonnets. I’m sick to death of white muslin, white silk, white anything!”
    “Lord Snedley advises it for young ladies in their first Season,” Daphne explained. “As does Mother.”
    “Plain white passed out of fashion ages ago,” Priscilla said, lifting her skirts to kneel before the trunk. “Simply tell your mother that Lord Snedley is mistaken.”
    Daphne gasped at the heresy, but Ariadne dropped her gaze, sighing. “It’s much easier for me to write my thoughts than to speak them, Priscilla. Except with all of you, of course.”
    Priscilla sighed as well. “Then I suppose it’s good that you have all of us to support you. Though I do think you could do with a bit of boldness.” She laid aside the other bonnets and reached for the material they could see stored beneath.
    “So long as you aren’t as bold as Lord Robert,” Daphne said, giving her sister’s arm a squeeze, “and announce your engagement without having seen the fellow!”
    “Now that’s entirely too bold,” Priscilla agreed. “And this is lovely.” She pulled the gown from the trunk and laid it across