Free Candice Hern by The Regency Rakes Trilogy

likes it," the dowager replied, a sheepish flush staining her cheeks. "He has excellent taste, you know. Why, you should have seen some of the gowns he had made up for ... Well, never mind that. Anyway, he is a great judge of fashion. I should like his opinion. I do not mean to criticize, my dear, but you were just a tiny bit more conservative in your selections than I would have preferred. I know that Madame Dubois was very agreeable to your suggestions, but I think we need a man's opinion."
    Later that evening the dowager sent Tuttle, her own dresser, to help Emily dress for dinner. This lofty personage was obviously put out at having to work for someone in Emily's position, but the dowager had insisted, and Tuttle condescended to do as she was asked. The dour Tuttle was almost a relief for Emily after having endured Lottie's endless prattling for the last half hour.
    "Oh, miss," Lottie had gushed upon seeing the new dress lying on the bed, "'tis a lovely gown. It's right glad I am to see you dress more ... well, you know, more feminine, like. Thomas told us he had carried in a heap of parcels for you when you came home this morning. We was all so glad to hear that her ladyship opened her purse for you. It'll be a rare treat to see you in such finery, miss."
    She went on and on in this vein while Emily waited patiently for her to finish with the fire and remove the basin of used water. "Oh! And won't his lordship think you're fine!" Lottie exclaimed. "Now mind, miss, what I said before. He's a rogue, that one. When he gets a look at you in that dress ... well, I don't like to think what might happen. You watch your step, miss."
    "Don't worry about me, Lottie," Emily replied, smiling at the girl's serious expression. "I will keep up my guard," she teased, "though I am sure it won't be necessary."
    "Little you know," Lottie muttered as she left the room.
    Tuttle had made her entrance a few moments later and began with a close inspection of the new dress. She mutely helped Emily into it and began fastening the tiny buttons at the back. It was a dusky rose lutestring, with a high waist and low bodice edged with Brussels lace. A darker rose satin ribbon tied around the high waist, just under the bosom, and the ends floated down almost to the hem. The dress emphasized Emily's tall, slender figure. New pink kid slippers peeked out from the scalloped hem.
    Tuttle next sat Emily down at her dressing table and began to dress her hair. Emily started to object, being quite comfortable with her modest chignon, but instead held her tongue. Tuttle brushed out Emily's long, softly waving hair and then twisted it into an intricate Grecian knot high up on her head. She then deftly tugged a few curling tendrils forward near her face and allowed one long curl to escape at her nape. The loose tendrils had a softening effect, and the entire result enhanced the impression of elongated elegance.
    Emily stood before the cheval glass and was astonished. She almost failed to recognize herself, having become so accustomed to her plain gowns and simple chignon. Emily was not oblivious to her appearance. She knew that many found her to be attractive, and had certainly been aware of her effect on the young men in the household in Kent where she had first been employed as a governess. She had even suffered a few mild flirtations from more than one of the dowager's visitors. She continued to affect as simple and unremarkable an appearance as possible, however, feeling that her position required that she draw attention away from herself. This mode had become so natural that Emily had totally relegated thoughts of her appearance to the back of her mind. She was therefore dazzled by what she saw reflected in the mirror. She smiled with genuine pleasure. "Oh, Tuttle. This is quite wonderful." The normally reticent Tuttle allowed herself a smile of appreciation.
    "Do you know, Tuttle, I think I should like to wear my mother's pearls." Emily went to her bureau