Regency Masquerade Read Free Page B

couldn’t meet him Frances
told herself, but it had been easier to agree.  Certainly he would be offended
when she failed to keep their appointment but at least that would make him
unlikely to seek out her company again.  Perhaps by Friday she would already be
under Lady Murray’s protection.  The thought was not as cheering as she had
expected.
    She
turned her mind to the masked ball.  If she went, would she go as male or
female?  She’d be more likely to learn about Lady Murray as a woman of course ...
and it would be more fun ...  It was all nonsense, wishful thinking, naturally
she’d spend the night quietly in her room as usual.
    Carleton
strolled back to his own house, his thoughts also turning to the Dalrymple’s
masked ball.  Perhaps Rosamond would be there.  At twenty nine, Carleton was
still unattached, without even the mistress that most men of his class had on
the side.  He had found no-one yet that he wished to marry and was too
reserved, fastidious even, to seek out a casual relationship which was
distinguished, as he saw it, by lust on one side and avarice on the other.  As
far as the succession went, he had a cousin with a healthy young family, who
could easily take over if he failed to provide an heir.  Not that he had given
up just yet!  He still hoped to find someone who would share his interests as
well as his bed, perhaps Rosamond was the one.
    On
the morning of the ball, Frances was still considering whether to attend or
not.  Doubtfully she looked at her two dresses, one plain and deliberately
servant like and the other a reasonably pretty morning dress with blue trim but
definitely not a ball gown.  “Well that settles that,” she told herself
firmly.  However, when she found herself strolling down Bond Street an hour
later, she realised her subconscious had not listened.  She paused outside a
particularly modish shop and made a bargain with herself.  “Alright then, if
there’s a gown in there that will fit me, I’ll buy it and go to the ball.  If
there’s not, I won’t.”
    Hesitantly
she entered as befit a very young gentleman shopping for his mistress.  Before
she could get her bearings a saleswoman stepped up smiling, “May I be of
assistance sir?”
    “Well
I ...” Frances halted in well simulated confusion, “I’m looking for a dress –
for my sister...  it’s for a ball.”  Despite the fact that no young lady she
had ever known in her entire life had sent her brother to buy a ball gown, the
assistant continued to smile.  “I see sir, and what size does m’selle take?”
    “Eh?
Oh I don’t know ... she’s nearly my size ... just a little smaller,” her voice
trailed away as the assistant beckoned her over to a fabulous creation of gold
satin.  Frances looked doubtfully at it. “I don’t think I could afford anything
as grand as that.” 
    The
assistant frowned, “I’m afraid we do not stock many ready-made gowns – most
customers prefer to have them made up.”  She paused thoughtfully, then snapped
her fingers for a young attendant. “The green one, from the back.”  There was a
slight delay and then the girl reappeared carrying a green silk gown carefully
over both arms.  She held it up gingerly by the shoulders and Frances fell in
love with it.  Pale green, like shallow water, it was not suitable for a young
girl but for a married woman.  A trim of white lace around the neck and the
puff sleeves set it off nicely.
    “How
much?” she queried fearfully.
    “Two
hundred guineas,” came the rude awakening.  Frances sighed and turned away
reluctantly.
    “That
is,” continued the saleswoman smoothly, “It was two hundred guineas originally when
it was made for Lady Fairfax, however she changed her mind.  Now it is only a
hundred and eighty – pounds.”
    “I’ll
take it,” the words were out before Frances could stop them.  “I do not have
the whole sum on me at present, but if I could pay half now, could someone deliver
it