her. The ton have a way of keeping their eye on which young ladies you pay attention to. Still, if you can’t find it in you to do this one small thing for me…”
Casting his eyes heavenward, Rushton groaned. “Very well, Pen, I shall come to London for a few weeks, but not for the whole Season, mind you. I am serious about the hunting-box and have no wish to delay it. For her ball, then, and a week before and after. How would that be?”
Penrith grinned. “You’re not such a bad fellow, Gareth, but I promise I won’t tell anyone. Hate to spoil your image and all that. How about a brandy?”
Henry appeared in the drawing room late in the afternoon mysteriously clutching an enormous box under his arm, a wide grin lighting his features. “I have something for you.”
“For me? What is this, Henry? I had my birthday only two months ago.” Selina regarded his mischievous face suspiciously.
“It is not a birthday present—though it could be. I seem to remember giving you only a few volumes of poetry and a bracelet. Yes, let us say it is a late birthday present.” He pushed one package across the magazine-strewn table toward her. “Go on, open it.”
Hesitantly, Selina set down her needlework and fingered the box. “I am almost afraid to.”
“Your instincts are perfectly in order, Selina,” he teased. “You shan’t like it all, you know. None the less, I shall insist on your using it. Come, open it now.”
She slid the string that bound it over the corners, and with one last questioning glance at her cousin, lifted the top from the box. Inside rested a crimson velvet mantelet luxuriantly trimmed with chinchilla. Henry whisked a hatbox from behind his back and removed the lid with a flourish. Too stunned to make a move, Selina merely gazed at the turban of crimson velvet with its two crimson ostrich feathers and a bandeau of chinchilla. Caught between a desire to laugh and cry, Selina shook her head wonderingly.
“If the crimson ostrich plumes are too much, I have brought you some white ones to replace them,” Henry explained, digging through the paper at the bottom of the box. “Mrs. Baxter said the turban was all the crack, but I thought it a bit much, myself, with the colored feathers. See, these curly ones are much less flamboyant, and I do think with the brim that it is not really an older lady’s hat, don’t you?” he asked anxiously.
“I have never seen anything so delightful,” Selina assured him truthfully. “I think you are right about the plumes, though. Oh, Henry, I love them both, but I don’t understand why you have done this.”
“You tore your cloak this morning and God help me, it isn’t worth repairing, Selina. It’s time you dressed more stylishly, you know. I have no doubt Lord Benedict would not have been so abrupt with you if you’d not looked like you were headed for an expedition to the Alps or something. He’s used to fashionable ladies, spending so much of his time in London as he does. It was the greatest pity you should have been climbing through the fence when you met him; I imagine that is not considered quite the thing in his circles. But never mind. Will you try on the mantelet and the turban?”
As she lifted the mantelet from its box, Selina said, “It doesn’t matter what Lord Benedict thinks of me, Henry. I hope you have not gone to this expense so that I may gain his good opinion. I could dress like Lady Caroline Lamb and not win his approbation.”
“It’s not just Lord Benedict, Selina. Would you shame me in front of Sir Penrith and Mr. Rushton? No, I will not allow you to put the turban over your stupid cap! You will find some perfectly acceptable lace caps in the box, too, and I expect you to wear them.” Henry looked uncertain for a moment. “Am I asking too much, Selina?”
His cousin hugged the mantelet about her and turned to inspect herself in the glass. Her brown curls framed her face under the delightful confection, and she
Casting his eyes heavenward, Rushton groaned. “Very well, Pen, I shall come to London for a few weeks, but not for the whole Season, mind you. I am serious about the hunting-box and have no wish to delay it. For her ball, then, and a week before and after. How would that be?”
Penrith grinned. “You’re not such a bad fellow, Gareth, but I promise I won’t tell anyone. Hate to spoil your image and all that. How about a brandy?”
Henry appeared in the drawing room late in the afternoon mysteriously clutching an enormous box under his arm, a wide grin lighting his features. “I have something for you.”
“For me? What is this, Henry? I had my birthday only two months ago.” Selina regarded his mischievous face suspiciously.
“It is not a birthday present—though it could be. I seem to remember giving you only a few volumes of poetry and a bracelet. Yes, let us say it is a late birthday present.” He pushed one package across the magazine-strewn table toward her. “Go on, open it.”
Hesitantly, Selina set down her needlework and fingered the box. “I am almost afraid to.”
“Your instincts are perfectly in order, Selina,” he teased. “You shan’t like it all, you know. None the less, I shall insist on your using it. Come, open it now.”
She slid the string that bound it over the corners, and with one last questioning glance at her cousin, lifted the top from the box. Inside rested a crimson velvet mantelet luxuriantly trimmed with chinchilla. Henry whisked a hatbox from behind his back and removed the lid with a flourish. Too stunned to make a move, Selina merely gazed at the turban of crimson velvet with its two crimson ostrich feathers and a bandeau of chinchilla. Caught between a desire to laugh and cry, Selina shook her head wonderingly.
“If the crimson ostrich plumes are too much, I have brought you some white ones to replace them,” Henry explained, digging through the paper at the bottom of the box. “Mrs. Baxter said the turban was all the crack, but I thought it a bit much, myself, with the colored feathers. See, these curly ones are much less flamboyant, and I do think with the brim that it is not really an older lady’s hat, don’t you?” he asked anxiously.
“I have never seen anything so delightful,” Selina assured him truthfully. “I think you are right about the plumes, though. Oh, Henry, I love them both, but I don’t understand why you have done this.”
“You tore your cloak this morning and God help me, it isn’t worth repairing, Selina. It’s time you dressed more stylishly, you know. I have no doubt Lord Benedict would not have been so abrupt with you if you’d not looked like you were headed for an expedition to the Alps or something. He’s used to fashionable ladies, spending so much of his time in London as he does. It was the greatest pity you should have been climbing through the fence when you met him; I imagine that is not considered quite the thing in his circles. But never mind. Will you try on the mantelet and the turban?”
As she lifted the mantelet from its box, Selina said, “It doesn’t matter what Lord Benedict thinks of me, Henry. I hope you have not gone to this expense so that I may gain his good opinion. I could dress like Lady Caroline Lamb and not win his approbation.”
“It’s not just Lord Benedict, Selina. Would you shame me in front of Sir Penrith and Mr. Rushton? No, I will not allow you to put the turban over your stupid cap! You will find some perfectly acceptable lace caps in the box, too, and I expect you to wear them.” Henry looked uncertain for a moment. “Am I asking too much, Selina?”
His cousin hugged the mantelet about her and turned to inspect herself in the glass. Her brown curls framed her face under the delightful confection, and she
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