best counter
Search
Report & Feedback

Chapter no 1

An Offer From a Gentleman (Bridgertons, #3)

This yearโ€™s most sought-after invitation must surely be that of the Bridgerton masquerade ball, to be held Monday next. Indeed, one cannot take two steps without being forced to listen to some society mama speculating on who will attend, and perhaps more importantly, who will wear what.

Neither of the aforementioned topics, however, are nearly as interesting as that of the two unmarried Bridgerton brothers, Benedict and Colin. (Before anyone points out that there is a third unmarried Bridgerton brother, let This Author assure you that she is fully aware of the existence of Gregory Bridgerton. He is, however, fourteen years of age, and therefore not pertinent to this particular column, which concerns, as This Authorโ€™s columns often do, that most sacred of sports: husband-hunting.)

Although the Misters Bridgerton are just thatโ€”merely Mistersโ€” they are still considered two of the prime catches of the season. It is a well-known fact that both are possessed of respectable fortunes, and it does not require perfect sight to know that they also possess, as do all eight of the Bridgerton offspring, the Bridgerton good looks.

Will some fortunate young lady use the mystery of a masquerade night to snare one of the eligible bachelors?

This Author isnโ€™t even going to attempt to speculate.

LADY WHISTLEDOWNโ€™S SOCIETY PAPERS, 31 MAY 1815

โ€œSophie! Sophieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!โ€

As screeches went, it was enough to shatter glass. Or at least an eardrum.

โ€œComing, Rosamund! Iโ€™m coming!โ€ Sophie hitched up the hem of her coarse woolen skirts and hurried up the stairs, slipping on the fourth step and only just barely managing to grab the bannister before landing on her bottom. She should have remembered that the stairs would be slick; sheโ€™d helped the downstairs maid wax them just that morning.

Skidding to a halt in the doorway to Rosamundโ€™s bedroom and still catching her breath, Sophie said, โ€œYes?โ€

โ€œMy tea is cold.โ€

What Sophie wanted to say was, โ€œIt was warm when I brought it an hour ago, you lazy fiend.โ€

What she did say was, โ€œIโ€™ll get you another pot.โ€ Rosamund sniffed. โ€œSee that you do.โ€

Sophie stretched her lips into what the nearly blind might call a smile and picked up the tea service. โ€œShall I leave the biscuits?โ€ she asked.

Rosamund gave her pretty head a shake. โ€œI want fresh ones.โ€

Shoulders slightly stooped from the weight of the overloaded tea service, Sophie exited the room, careful not to start grumbling until sheโ€™d safely reached the hall. Rosamund was forever ordering tea, then not bothering to drink it until an hour passed. By then, of course, it was cold, so she had to order a fresh pot.

Which meant Sophie was forever running up and down the stairs, up and down, up and down. Sometimes it seemed that was all she did with her life.

Up and down, up and down.

And of course the mending, the pressing, the hairdressing, the shoe polishing, the darning, the bedmaking . . .

โ€œSophie!โ€

Sophie turned around to see Posy heading toward her.

โ€œSophie, Iโ€™ve been meaning to ask you, do you think this color is becoming on me?โ€

Sophie assessed Posyโ€™s mermaid costume. The cut wasnโ€™t quite right for Posy, who had never lost all of her baby fat, but the color did indeed bring out the best in her complexion. โ€œIt is a lovely shade of green,โ€ Sophie replied quite honestly. โ€œIt makes your cheeks very rosy.โ€

โ€œOh, good. Iโ€™m so glad you like it. You do have such a knack for picking out my clothing.โ€ Posy smiled as she reached out and plucked a

sugared biscuit from the tray. โ€œMother has been an absolute bear all week about the masquerade ball, and I know I shall never hear the end of it if I do not look my best. Orโ€โ€”Posyโ€™s face twisted into a grimaceโ€”โ€œif she thinks I do not look my best. She is determined that one of us snare one of the remaining Bridgerton brothers, you know.โ€

โ€œI know.โ€

โ€œAnd to make matters worse, that Whistledown woman has been writing about them again. It onlyโ€โ€”Posy finished chewing and paused while she swallowedโ€”โ€œwhets her appetite.โ€

โ€œWas the column very good this morning?โ€ Sophie asked, shifting the tray to rest on her hip. โ€œI havenโ€™t had a chance to read it yet.โ€

โ€œOh, the usual stuff,โ€ Posy said with a wave of her hand. โ€œReally, it can be quite humdrum, you know.โ€

Sophie tried to smile and failed. Sheโ€™d like nothing more than to live a day of Posyโ€™s humdrum life. Well, perhaps she wouldnโ€™t want Araminta for a mother, but she wouldnโ€™t mind a life of parties, routs, and musicales.

โ€œLetโ€™s see,โ€ Posy mused. โ€œThere was a review of Lady Worthโ€™s recent ball, a bit about Viscount Guelph, who seems rather smitten with some girl from Scotland, and then a longish piece on the upcoming Bridgerton masquerade.โ€

Sophie sighed. Sheโ€™d been reading about the upcoming masquerade for weeks, and even though she was nothing but a ladyโ€™s maid (and occasionally a housemaid as well, whenever Araminta decided she wasnโ€™t working hard enough) she couldnโ€™t help but wish that she could attend the ball.

โ€œI for one will be thrilled if that Guelph viscount gets himself engaged,โ€ Posy remarked, reaching for another biscuit. โ€œIt will mean one fewer bachelor for Mother to go on and on about as a potential husband. Itโ€™s not as if I have any hope of attracting his attention anyway.โ€ She took a bite of the biscuit; it crunched loudly in her mouth. โ€œI do hope Lady Whistledown is right about him.โ€

โ€œShe probably is,โ€ Sophie answered. She had been reading Lady Whistledownโ€™s Society Papers since it had debuted in 1813, and the gossip columnist was almost always correct when it came to matters of the Marriage Mart.

Not, of course, that Sophie had ever had the chance to see the Marriage Mart for herself. But if one read Whistledown often enough, one could almost feel a part of London Society without actually attending any balls.

In fact, reading Whistledown was really Sophieโ€™s one true enjoyable pastime. Sheโ€™d already read all of the novels in the library, and as neither Araminta, Rosamund, nor Posy was particularly enamored of reading, Sophie couldnโ€™t look forward to a new book entering the house.

But Whistledown was great fun. No one actually knew the columnistโ€™s true identity. When the single-sheet newspaper had debuted two years earlier, speculation had been rampant. Even now, whenever Lady Whistledown reported a particularly juicy bit of gossip, people starting talking and guessing anew, wondering who on earth was able to report with such speed and accuracy.

And for Sophie, Whistledown was a tantalizing glimpse into the world that might have been hers, had her parents actually made their union legal. She would have been an earlโ€™s daughter, not an earlโ€™s bastard; her name Gunningworth instead of Beckett.

Just once, sheโ€™d like to be the one stepping into the coach and attending the ball.

Instead, she was the one dressing others for their nights on the town, cinching Posyโ€™s corset or dressing Rosamundโ€™s hair or polishing a pair of Aramintaโ€™s shoes.

But she could notโ€”or at least should notโ€”complain. She might have to serve as maid to Araminta and her daughters, but at least she had a home. Which was more than most girls in her position had.

When her father had died, heโ€™d left her nothing. Well, nothing but a roof over her head. His will had ensured that she could not be turned out until she was twenty. There was no way that Araminta would forfeit four thousand pounds a year by giving Sophie the boot.

But that four thousand pounds was Aramintaโ€™s, not Sophieโ€™s, and Sophie hadnโ€™t ever seen a penny of it. Gone were the fine clothes sheโ€™d used to wear, replaced by the coarse wool of the servants. And she ate what the rest of the maids ateโ€”whatever Araminta, Rosamund, and Posy chose to leave behind.

Sophieโ€™s twentieth birthday, however, had come and gone almost a year earlier, and here she was, still living at Penwood House, still waiting on

Araminta hand and foot. For some unknown reasonโ€”probably because she didnโ€™t want to train (or pay) a new maidโ€”Araminta had allowed Sophie to remain in her household.

And Sophie had stayed. If Araminta was the devil she knew, then the rest of the world was the devil she didnโ€™t. And Sophie had no idea which would be worse.

โ€œIsnโ€™t that tray getting heavy?โ€

Sophie blinked her way out of her reverie and focused on Posy, who was reaching for the last biscuit on the tray. Drat. Sheโ€™d been hoping to snitch it for herself. โ€œYes,โ€ she murmured. โ€œYes, it is quite. I should really be getting to the kitchen with it.โ€

Posy smiled. โ€œI wonโ€™t keep you any longer, but when youโ€™re done with that, could you press my pink gown? Iโ€™m going to wear it tonight. Oh, and I suppose the matching shoes should be readied as well. I got a bit of dirt on them last time I wore them, and you know how Mother is about shoes. Never mind that you canโ€™t even see them under my skirt. Sheโ€™ll notice the tiniest speck of dirt the instant I lift my hem to climb a step.โ€

Sophie nodded, mentally adding Posyโ€™s requests to her daily list of chores.

โ€œIโ€™ll see you later, then!โ€ Biting down on that last biscuit, Posy turned and disappeared into her bedchamber.

And Sophie trudged down to the kitchen.

few days later, Sophie was on her knees, pins clamped between her teeth as she made last-minute alterations on Aramintaโ€™s masquerade costume. The Queen Elizabeth gown had, of course, been delivered from the dressmaker as a perfect fit, but Araminta insisted that it was now a quarter inch too large in the waist.

โ€œHow is that?โ€ Sophie asked, speaking through her teeth so the pins wouldnโ€™t fall.

โ€œToo tight.โ€

Sophie adjusted a few pins. โ€œWhat about that?โ€ โ€œToo loose.โ€

Sophie pulled out a pin and stuck it back in precisely the same spot. โ€œThere. How does that feel?โ€

Araminta twisted this way and that, then finally declared, โ€œItโ€™ll do.โ€ Sophie smiled to herself as she stood to help Araminta out of the gown. โ€œIโ€™ll need it done in an hour if weโ€™re to get to the ball on time,โ€

Araminta said.

โ€œOf course,โ€ Sophie murmured. Sheโ€™d found it easiest just to say โ€œof courseโ€ on a regular basis in conversations with Araminta.

โ€œThis ball is very important,โ€ Araminta said sharply. โ€œRosamund must make an advantageous match this year. The new earlโ€”โ€ She shuddered with distaste; she still considered the new earl an interloper, never mind that he was the old earlโ€™s closest living male relative. โ€œWell, he has told me that this is the last year we may use Penwood House in London. The nerve of the man. I am the dowager countess, after all, and Rosamund and Posy are the earlโ€™s daughters.โ€

Stepdaughters, Sophie silently corrected.

โ€œWe have every right to use Penwood House for the season. What he plans to do with the house, Iโ€™ll never know.โ€

โ€œPerhaps he wishes to attend the season and look for a wife,โ€ Sophie suggested. โ€œHeโ€™ll be wanting an heir, Iโ€™m sure.โ€

Araminta scowled. โ€œIf Rosamund doesnโ€™t marry into money, I donโ€™t know what weโ€™ll do. It is so difficult to find a proper house to rent. And so expensive as well.โ€

Sophie forbore to point out that at least Araminta didnโ€™t have to pay for a ladyโ€™s maid. In fact, until Sophie had turned twenty, sheโ€™d received four thousand pounds per year, just for having a ladyโ€™s maid.

Araminta snapped her fingers. โ€œDonโ€™t forget that Rosamund will need her hair powdered.โ€

Rosamund was attending dressed as Marie Antoinette. Sophie had asked if she was planning to put a ring of faux blood around her neck. Rosamund had not been amused.

Araminta pulled on her dressing gown, cinching the sash with swift, tight movements. โ€œAnd Posyโ€”โ€ Her nose wrinkled. โ€œWell, Posy will need your help in some manner or other, Iโ€™m sure.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m always glad to help Posy,โ€ Sophie replied.

Araminta narrowed her eyes as she tried to figure out if Sophie was being insolent. โ€œJust see that you do,โ€ she finally said, her syllables clipped. She stalked off to the washroom.

Sophie saluted as the door closed behind her.

โ€œAh, there you are, Sophie,โ€ Rosamund said as she bustled into the room. โ€œI need your help immediately.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m afraid itโ€™ll have to wait untilโ€”โ€

โ€œI said immediately!โ€ Rosamund snapped.

Sophie squared her shoulders and gave Rosamund a steely look. โ€œYour mother wants me to alter her gown.โ€

โ€œJust pull the pins out and tell her you pulled it in. Sheโ€™ll never notice the difference.โ€

Sophie had been considering the very same thing, and she groaned. If she did as Rosamund asked, Rosamund would tattle on her the very next day, and then Araminta would rant and rage for a week. Now she would definitely have to do the alteration.

โ€œWhat do you need, Rosamund?โ€

โ€œThere is a tear at the hem of my costume. I have no idea how it happened.โ€

โ€œPerhaps when you tried it onโ€”โ€ โ€œDonโ€™t be impertinent!โ€

Sophie clamped her mouth shut. It was far more difficult to take orders from Rosamund than from Araminta, probably because theyโ€™d once been equals, sharing the same schoolroom and governess.

โ€œIt must be repaired immediately,โ€ Rosamund said with an affected sniff.

Sophie sighed. โ€œJust bring it in. Iโ€™ll do it right after I finish with your motherโ€™s. I promise youโ€™ll have it in plenty of time.โ€

โ€œI wonโ€™t be late for this ball,โ€ Rosamund warned. โ€œIf I am, I shall have

your head on a platter.โ€

โ€œYou wonโ€™t be late,โ€ Sophie promised.

Rosamund made a rather huffy sound, then hurried out the door to retrieve her costume.

โ€œOoof!โ€

Sophie looked up to see Rosamund crashing into Posy, who was barreling through the door.

โ€œWatch where youโ€™re going, Posy!โ€ Rosamund snapped.

โ€œYou could watch where youโ€™re going, too,โ€ Posy pointed out.

โ€œI was watching. Itโ€™s impossible to get out of your way, you big oaf.โ€

Posyโ€™s cheeks stained red, and she stepped aside.

โ€œDid you need something, Posy?โ€ Sophie asked, as soon as Rosamund had disappeared.

Posy nodded. โ€œCould you set aside a little extra time to dress my hair tonight? I found some green ribbons that look a little like seaweed.โ€

Sophie let out a long breath. The dark green ribbons werenโ€™t likely to show up very well against Posyโ€™s dark hair, but she didnโ€™t have the heart to point that out. โ€œIโ€™ll try, Posy, but I have to mend Rosamundโ€™s dress and alter your motherโ€™s.โ€

โ€œOh.โ€ Posy looked crestfallen. It nearly broke Sophieโ€™s heart. Posy was the only person who was even halfway nice to her in Aramintaโ€™s household, save for the servants. โ€œDonโ€™t worry,โ€ she assured her. โ€œIโ€™ll make sure your hair is lovely no matter how much time we have.โ€

โ€œOh, thank you, Sophie! Iโ€”โ€

โ€œHavenโ€™t you gotten started on my gown yet?โ€ Araminta thundered as she returned from the washroom.

Sophie gulped. โ€œI was talking with Rosamund and Posy. Rosamund tore her gown andโ€”โ€

โ€œJust get to work!โ€

โ€œI will. Immediately.โ€ Sophie plopped down on the settee and turned the gown inside out so that she could take in the waist. โ€œFaster than immediately,โ€ she muttered. โ€œFaster than a hummingbirdโ€™s wings. Faster thanโ€”โ€

โ€œWhat are you chattering about?โ€ Araminta demanded. โ€œNothing.โ€

โ€œWell, cease your prattle immediately. I find the sound of your voice particularly grating.โ€

Sophie ground her teeth together.

โ€œMama,โ€ Posy said, โ€œSophie is going to dress my hair tonight likeโ€”โ€ โ€œOf course sheโ€™s going to dress your hair. Quit your dillydallying this

minute and go put compresses on your eyes so they donโ€™t look so puffy.โ€ Posyโ€™s face fell. โ€œMy eyes are puffy?โ€

Sophie shook her head on the off chance that Posy decided to look down at her.

โ€œYour eyes are always puffy,โ€ Araminta replied. โ€œDonโ€™t you think so, Rosamund?โ€

Posy and Sophie both turned toward the door. Rosamund had just entered, carrying her Marie Antoinette gown. โ€œAlways,โ€ she agreed. โ€œBut a compress will help, Iโ€™m sure.โ€

โ€œYou look stunning tonight,โ€ Araminta told Rosamund. โ€œAnd you havenโ€™t even started getting ready. That gold in your gown is an exquisite match to your hair.โ€

Sophie shot a sympathetic look at the dark-haired Posy, who never received such compliments from her mother.

โ€œYou shall snare one of those Bridgerton brothers,โ€ Araminta continued. โ€œIโ€™m sure of it.โ€

Rosamund looked down demurely. It was an expression sheโ€™d perfected, and Sophie had to admit it looked lovely on her. But then again, most everything looked lovely on Rosamund. Her golden hair and blue eyes were all the rage that year, and thanks to the generous dowry settled upon her by the late earl, it was widely assumed that she would make a brilliant match before the season was through.

Sophie glanced back over at Posy, who was staring at her mother with a sad, wistful expression. โ€œYou look lovely, too, Posy,โ€ Sophie said impulsively.

Posyโ€™s eyes lit up. โ€œDo you think so?โ€

โ€œAbsolutely. And your gown is terribly original. Iโ€™m sure there wonโ€™t be any other mermaids.โ€

โ€œHow would you know, Sophie?โ€ Rosamund asked with a laugh. โ€œItโ€™s not as if youโ€™ve ever been out in society.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sure youโ€™ll have a lovely time, Posy,โ€ Sophie said pointedly, ignoring Rosamundโ€™s jibe. โ€œIโ€™m terribly jealous. I do wish I could go.โ€

Sophieโ€™s little sigh and wish was met with absolute silence . . . followed by the raucous laughter of both Araminta and Rosamund. Even Posy giggled a bit.

โ€œOh, thatโ€™s rich,โ€ Araminta said, barely able to catch her breath. โ€œLittle Sophie at the Bridgerton ball. They donโ€™t allow bastards out in society, you know.โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t say I expected to go,โ€ Sophie said defensively, โ€œjust that I wish I could.โ€

โ€œWell, you shouldnโ€™t even bother doing that,โ€ Rosamund chimed in. โ€œIf you wish for things you canโ€™t possibly hope for, youโ€™re only going to be

disappointed.โ€

But Sophie didnโ€™t hear what she had to say, because in that moment, the oddest thing happened. As she was turning her head toward Rosamund, she caught sight of the housekeeper standing in the doorway. It was Mrs. Gibbons, who had come up from Penwood Park in the country when the town housekeeper had passed away. And when Sophieโ€™s eyes met hers, she winked.

Winked!

Sophie didnโ€™t think sheโ€™d ever seen Mrs. Gibbons wink. โ€œSophie! Sophie! Are you listening to me?โ€

Sophie turned a distracted eye toward Araminta. โ€œIโ€™m sorry,โ€ she murmured. โ€œYou were saying?โ€

โ€œI was saying,โ€ Araminta said in a nasty voice, โ€œthat you had better get to work on my gown this instant. If we are late for the ball, you will answer for it tomorrow.โ€

โ€œYes, of course,โ€ Sophie said quickly. She jabbed her needle into the fabric and started sewing but her mind was still on Mrs. Gibbons.

A wink?

Why on earth would she wink?

Three hours later, Sophie was standing on the front steps of Penwood House, watching first Araminta, then Rosamund, then Posy each take the footmanโ€™s hand and climb up into the carriage. Sophie waved at Posy, who waved back, then watched the carriage roll down the street and disappear around the corner. It was barely six blocks to Bridgerton House, where the masquerade was to be held, but Araminta would have insisted upon the carriage if theyโ€™d lived right next door.

It was important to make a grand entrance, after all.

With a sigh, Sophie turned around and made her way back up the steps. At least Araminta had, in the excitement of the moment, forgotten to leave her with a list of tasks to complete while she was gone. A free evening was a luxury indeed. Perhaps sheโ€™d reread a novel. Or maybe she could find todayโ€™s edition of Whistledown. Sheโ€™d thought sheโ€™d seen Rosamund take it into her room earlier that afternoon.

But as Sophie stepped through the front door of Penwood House, Mrs. Gibbons materialized as if from nowhere and grabbed her arm. โ€œThereโ€™s no time to lose!โ€ the housekeeper said.

Sophie looked at her as if sheโ€™d lost her mind. โ€œI beg your pardon?โ€ Mrs. Gibbons tugged at her elbow. โ€œCome with me.โ€

Sophie allowed herself to be led up the three flights of stairs to her room, a tiny little chamber tucked under the eaves. Mrs. Gibbons was acting in a most peculiar manner, but Sophie humored her and followed along. The housekeeper had always treated her with exceptional kindness, even when it was clear that Araminta disapproved.

โ€œYouโ€™ll need to get undressed,โ€ Mrs. Gibbons said as she grasped the doorknob.

โ€œWhat?โ€

โ€œWe really must rush.โ€

โ€œMrs. Gibbons, you . . .โ€ Sophieโ€™s mouth fell open, and her words trailed off as she took in the scene in her bedroom. A steaming tub of water lay right in the center, and all three housemaids were bustling about. One was pouring a pitcher of water into the tub, another was fiddling with the lock on a rather mysterious-looking trunk, and the third was holding a towel and saying, โ€œHurry! Hurry!โ€

Sophie cast bewildered eyes at the lot of them. โ€œWhat is going on?โ€ Mrs. Gibbons turned to her and beamed. โ€œYou, Miss Sophia Maria

Beckett, are going to the masquerade!โ€

One hour later, Sophie was transformed. The trunk had held dresses belonging to the late earlโ€™s mother. They were all fifty years out of date, but that was no matter. The ball was a masquerade; no one expected the gowns to be of the latest styles.

At the very bottom of the trunk theyโ€™d found an exquisite creation of shimmering silver, with a tight, pearl-encrusted bodice and the flared skirts that had been so popular during the previous century. Sophie felt like a princess just touching it. It was a bit musty from its years in the trunk, and one of the maids quickly took it outside to dab a bit of rosewater on the fabric and air it out.

Sheโ€™d been bathed and perfumed, her hair had been dressed, and one of the housemaids had even applied a touch of rouge to her lips. โ€œDonโ€™t tell Miss Rosamund,โ€ the maid had whispered. โ€œI nicked it from her collection.โ€

โ€œOoooh, look,โ€ Mrs. Gibbons said. โ€œI found matching gloves.โ€

Sophie looked up to see the housekeeper holding up a pair of long, elbow-length gloves. โ€œLook,โ€ she said, taking one from Mrs. Gibbons and examining it. โ€œThe Penwood crest. And itโ€™s monogrammed. Right at the hem.โ€

Mrs. Gibbons turned over the one in her hand. โ€œSLG. Sarah Louisa Gunningworth. Your grandmother.โ€

Sophie looked at her in surprise. Mrs. Gibbons had never referred to the earl as her father. No one at Penwood Park had ever verbally acknowledged Sophieโ€™s blood ties to the Gunningworth family.

โ€œWell, she is your grandmother,โ€ Mrs. Gibbons declared. โ€œWeโ€™ve all danced around the issue long enough. Itโ€™s a crime the way Rosamund and Posy are treated like daughters of the house, and you, the earlโ€™s true blood, must sweep and serve like a maid!โ€

The three housemaids nodded in agreement.

โ€œJust once,โ€ Mrs. Gibbons said, โ€œfor just one night, you will be the belle of the ball.โ€ With a smile on her face, she slowly turned Sophie around until she was facing the mirror.

Sophieโ€™s breath caught. โ€œIs that me?โ€

Mrs. Gibbons nodded, her eyes suspiciously bright. โ€œYou look lovely, dearling,โ€ she whispered.

Sophieโ€™s hand moved slowly up to her hair. โ€œDonโ€™t muss it!โ€ one of the maids yelped.

โ€œI wonโ€™t,โ€ Sophie promised, her smile wobbling a bit as she fought back a tear. A touch of shimmery powder had been sprinkled onto her hair, so that she sparkled like a fairy princess. Her dark blond curls had been swept atop her head in a loose topknot, with one thick lock allowed to slide down the length of her neck. And her eyes, normally moss green, shone like emeralds.

Although Sophie suspected that might have had more to do with her unshed tears than anything else.

โ€œHere is your mask,โ€ Mrs. Gibbons said briskly. It was a demi-mask, the sort that tied at the back so that Sophie would not have to use one of her hands to hold it up. โ€œNow all we need are shoes.โ€

Sophie glanced ruefully at her serviceable and ugly work shoes that sat in the corner. โ€œI have nothing suitable for such finery, Iโ€™m afraid.โ€

The housemaid who had rouged Sophieโ€™s lips held up a pair of white slippers. โ€œFrom Rosamundโ€™s closet,โ€ she said.

Sophie slid her right foot into one of the slippers and just as quickly slid it back out. โ€œItโ€™s much too big,โ€ she said, glancing up at Mrs. Gibbons. โ€œIโ€™ll never be able to walk in them.โ€

Mrs. Gibbons turned to the maid. โ€œFetch a pair from Posyโ€™s closet.โ€ โ€œHers are even bigger,โ€ Sophie said. โ€œI know. Iโ€™ve cleaned enough scuff

marks from them.โ€

Mrs. Gibbons let out a long sigh. โ€œThereโ€™s nothing for it, then. We shall have to raid Aramintaโ€™s collection.โ€

Sophie shuddered. The thought of walking anywhere in Aramintaโ€™s shoes was somewhat creepy. But it was either that or go without, and she didnโ€™t think that bare feet would be acceptable at a fancy London masquerade.

A few minutes later the maid returned with a pair of white satin slippers, stitched in silver and adorned with exquisite faux-diamond rosettes.

Sophie was still apprehensive about wearing Aramintaโ€™s shoes, but she slipped one of her feet in, anyway. It fit perfectly.

โ€œAnd they match, too,โ€ one of the maids said, pointing to the silver stitching. โ€œAs if they were made for the dress.โ€

โ€œWe donโ€™t have time for admiring shoes,โ€ Mrs. Gibbons suddenly said. โ€œNow listen to these instructions very carefully. The coachman has returned from taking the countess and her girls, and he will take you to Bridgerton House. But he has to be waiting outside when they wish to depart, which means you must leave by midnight and not a second later. Do you understand?โ€

Sophie nodded and looked at the clock on the wall. It was a bit after nine, which meant sheโ€™d have more than two hours at the masquerade. โ€œThank you,โ€ she whispered. โ€œOh, thank you so much.โ€

Mrs. Gibbons dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. โ€œYou just have a good time, dearling. Thatโ€™s all the thanks I need.โ€

Sophie looked again at the clock. Two hours. Two hours that sheโ€™d have to make last a lifetime.

You'll Also Like