The Ugly Duckling Debutante_FINAL-3 (8 page)

“It looks like we have arrived,” she said, fumbling with the edges of her gloves yet again; my, she was nervous.

“So we have,” he answered, helping her out of the carriage.
 
He momentarily forgot his place and allowed his hands to circle around her waist as he helped her down. It was a stupid mistake. One he paid for dearly
when
the heat from her body hit him full force on the ground. He awkwardly stared into her eyes, before he heard someone clear their throat.

Lady Fenton stood just a few steps away with an odd smile on her face. “Did it work?” she asked, not greeting Sai.

Reluctantly, he released Sai’s waist. “Yes, of course, my lady.”

Lady Fenton stepped toward him, sashaying her hips; it was tiresome how women put on a show for him. “It appears she got you pretty good, did she not?”

He rolled his eyes; he had enough humiliation for one day. “Just ask her about the trees.” And with that he was in his carriage shouting that he would call for them at six.

“Trees?” Her aunt looked at her curiously.

“I have no idea what he means,” Sara fibbed. She pushed past her aunt and ran up the stairs to her room.

Chapter Six

She heard her aunt yell after her to start getting ready. She opened her chamber doors and gasped with delight. A large tub filled with hot water and oils awaited her, she nearly split her own dress in a hurry to get into the water.

By the time her dress was off, she was positively elated. She dipped herself into the water and took a deep breath. She would most likely fail in her mission to find a husband so her family would have money. Who would want her anyway? It didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy small pleasures before the rejection was finally enough to send her back into the countryside.

Thinking of the upcoming ball, she
closed her eyes
. She had never been but heard she needed to
attend
or she wouldn’t receive invitations to people’s houses or parties, and she needed those invites if she
hoped
to gain a titled husband.

The thoughts swarming in her head felt jumbled. The emotions were confusing when her body was within Renwick’s proximity She constantly fought an inner battle of one minute wanting to hit him and the next wanting to kiss him, but she had never been thoroughly kissed and only wanton women went after men in that manner. It would, however, shock him; though if the smoldering look in his eyes was any hint as to how he would react, she would be better off not inquiring if he would be a willing participant.
 
A shudder went through her, Nicholas Renwick was not to be trifled with.

Why was she thinking of him at all? He was not her future husband. True, he was wealthy and titled, but also a self-professed reformed rake, never to marry again, plus half the women in the
ton
still desired him, and many of them were married! Her own aunt seemed mesmerized by his presence; if he ever chose to marry it would most likely be royalty, not some untitled lady from the country.

Before she knew it, the once hot water had grown stale and chilly around her body. She reluctantly stepped out and wrapped herself in the beautifully woven robe she found by her bed. Two short knocks on the door announced the arrival of her aunt’s maid who curtsied and explained, “My lady, I’m to help you get ready for the ball.”

Sara smiled. “That would be so kind of you. I fear I don’t even remember how to dress in such elaborate clothing!”

The maid smiled and helped her begin with the chemise.

“What’s your name?” Sara asked.

“My name?” The maid’s eyes widened in absolute shock.

“Well, I should like to know what to call you,” Sara offered.

The maid fumbled with the clothes laid out in front of them. “My name’s Davina.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sara said smiling warmly. Davina smiled gayly as she pulled out the corset.

“Isn’t that a bit, um… small?” Sara asked. She had never seen a corset so scandalously little and tight.

“Oh sorry, miss. This is the new French corset. It is much more comfortable than the whalebone corsets which have been gracing the
ton
. Many of the ladies will be wearing these particular corsets tonight; although, only a few can get away with them, considering they do not hold much in.” She turned red and began helping Sara finish dressing.

Davina was right. Sara looked into the mirror and gasped. She was wearing a blue ball gown with a revealing low neckline. It was one of the gowns Madame François had discussed with her; however, she wasn’t aware it would be so low cut. She felt almost naked. The corset she wore also did nothing to hide her tiny waist, but it did accentuate her hips. It was short and light for a corset.

She liked the way the fabric flowed freely from her hips
. I
n fact,
the dress didn’t appear like a French style at all. Looking in the mirror, Sara
felt very much like a Grecian princess
she read about in her books.

She smiled into the mirror as Davina dressed her hair. “Would you like me to add some kohl to your eyes, my lady?”

Sara shrugged her shoulders; it couldn’t make her any uglier. Davina rubbed her eyelashes in kohl then took out some rouge and painted her face. “You look beautiful.”

Sara knew this was a moment in her life she would never forget. It wasn’t that she actually believed Davina, but the fact Davina said it so honestly left her with some small hope it might be true. It was the first time anyone in Sara’s life called her beautiful. She
held
her breath to keep from crying.
Smiling at Davina, h
er throat constricted painfully. “Thank you.”

She turned to look at herself in the mirror when another knock sounded at the door. Davina rushed to open it. Aunt Tilda strolled in and
twirled her dress
for Sara. “Isn’t it divine? It’s positively shimmering with crystals!” Aunt Tilda looked thrilled, but Sara was appalled. That dress could feed a small country—it was worth a fortune! Why not just donate the dress to her family, so she doesn’t have to suffer through the season?

Her aunt looked at her strangely. “That’s hardly the reaction I was hoping for, my dear. I do say! Well, don’t just stand there gawking. Hurry along. Lord Renwick is waiting.”

***

Nicholas took a deep breath as he was let inside Lady Fenton’s home. It was embarrassing how long it took him to get ready. Normally he didn’t spend this much time dressing. Today it took him four hours. Granted, he
’
d ruined at least seven cravats in the process, not to mention torn a hole in his pants after tripping over his own shoe.
This in turn caused h
is groom
to ask
him if he’d been drinking. He wished. At least it would give him an excuse for his odd behavior. The title of perpetual drunk did have a certain ring to it, but then again anything was better than “lovesick schoolboy.” He shuddered at the thought.

Nicholas’s valet, who seemed to get more irritated by the minute, went into the large closet and chose for him. The room was dark, fitting for his current mood. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the comfort of his large home to escort temptation itself to the ball.

Lifting his eyes heavenward, he prayed for strength and donned his tight black silk breeches, a long velvet coat with blue and gold seams, and his finest French silk shirt. The arrangement defined dark and dangerous. Hopefully Sai would get the hint.
 
He tired of the drab clothing he had been wearing for the past two years. It served its purpose of allowing him to blend in with the rest of the
ton
—but tonight, well, tonight he only wanted one person’s attention, however suicidal that may be. He heard someone approaching and turned around.

His immediate reaction upon seeing her was to cough.

Then swear.

His heightened sense of arousal did nothing for his already nervous demeanor. Adjusting his pants, he let out a ragged exhale. He really shouldn’t have worn such tight breeches. What in the blazes had he been thinking?

No one would find him guilty of any coherent thought at the moment. His mouth dropped open
when
Sai made her entrance and
twirled
in a circle to present herself for Lady Fenton's approval.

Oh, how he loved twirling.

Her hair was piled around her head in a beautiful adornment of crystals. The longer he studied her the more he realized she looked like a Greek goddess—like Aphrodite herself. Everything about her screamed perfection, she smiled and curtsied. He had to put his hand on the back of the chair to steady his own shaky disposition. He felt faint….again. That would be twice in one day. She was not good for his newfound faith in a higher power.
Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil…
he prayed silently, trying desperately to bring some semblance of control back into his melting composure.

It became painfully obvious in that moment, one of two things would happen this night. Either he would die from unsatisfied lust, or he would beat to death the first man who laid a hand on her.

The thought of the other men brought with it the sudden impulse to immediately cover Sai's exposed chest with a napkin, or a table cloth, or better yet, his own hands—anything, just so other men wouldn’t take notice. But how could they not? Her low cut gown profoundly accentuated her perfect breasts. Yes, her skin was dark, but it cast a bronze glow from the vast expanse of skin, merely adding to the effect of the perfect likeness of Aphrodite.

“Perhaps you should take a moment to compose yourself, Nicholas,” Lady Fenton whispered stepping between him and Sai.

His pride also t
ook
a blow
when
he realized his
apparel
didn’t have the same effect on
Sai
as hers did on him. She merely smiled and followed him to the carriage. He decided he wouldn’t allow her to touch him lest it completely undo him; not that he wasn’t already in that exact predicament. It’s only because he didn’t have a wife, or a mistress, or any sort of spirit stronger than wine in his possession at the moment. At least that’s what he told himself when he looked longingly across the carriage. She wasn’t wearing one of those awful contraptions that women often did when they wore ball gowns, in fact if he were a betting man he would say she wasn’t wearing a corset at all, or was she? He leaned over to her side briefly to determine the answer to the mystery, but she turned and locked eyes with him.

“Find what you were looking for?” she asked mockingly.

He cleared his throat. “I thought I saw a spider," he stammered. His stupidity was nothing short of legendary this evening; never had he been so at a loss for words.

“A spider?” she replied. “Really?” Her tone patronized him like a mother catching her son in a ridiculous lie.

“It was a large spider,” he insisted.

A
large
spider? He shook his head and longingly looked out the window wishing for any sort of distraction to keep Sai from pursuing the conversation further.