him.”
“How?”
Flora continued to shake her head in obvious frustration. “Heavens, Pru, are you that unsure of yourself?”
“Yes, I am.” How pathetic she sounded. The sting of tears was building up behind her eyes. Before she could stop herself, in a tiny whisper of a voice she said, “Help me, Flora. Please.”
She could not look up, ashamed at behaving in such an abject manner. Good Lord, she had sunk into a bog of self-pity. How foolish. Nicholas had said they should not waste time repining what could not be changed, and he was right. If he, who’d got the worst end of the bargain, was willing to make their marriage work, then by God, so was she. After a moment, she felt Flora’s hand take hers and squeeze it. Pru lifted her eyes.
“I am sorry to sound like such a pitiful creature,” she said. “Forgive me, Flora. My emotions have been running high, and I fear I have been feeling sorry for myself.”
“And why is that? You have what most women dream of. You are married to a devilishly handsome man, someone you care for deeply.”
Pru gave a little gasp.
Flora smiled. “You think I didn’t know? You do tend to wear your heart in your eyes, my girl.”
“Oh, dear.” Was it so obvious? Did everyone know? Did Nicholas?
“Don’t worry, Pru. I am sensitive to such things. Not everyone is.”
“Oh, dear. You d-don’t think—”
“Men are never that sensitive. He doesn’t know, I assure you.”
“Oh, Flora, I would die if he knew how I felt.”
“You’re not going to die, my girl. All you need to do is work on making him fall in love with you, too.”
Pru gave an unladylike snort. “You should write fiction instead of fashion reports. You have as romantic an imagination as Simon Westover. Perhaps you should pen the Cabinet ’s next sentimental tale instead of him.”
“Bosh. There’s nothing to making a man fall in love with you. And you’ve got proximity on your side, which can only help matters. What you need, Pru, is to believe you are worthy of his love. And of course, you are.”
“How am I? I’m not remotely beautiful. I’m too small. I’m too quiet. He hates my family.”
“You have filled your ledger with too many liabilities, my girl. Let us balance them with assets. First, hardly any of us is truly beautiful, but we all have good features. You have lovely blue eyes. And creamy skin.”
“I have freckles.”
“Charmingly sprinkled across your nose. Your smattering of freckles is most endearing, and helps to keep you looking young. A definite asset. Your hair…”
“I know. It’s a fright.”
“Not at all. It’s a bit untamed, but I do admire its color, a shade more red than blond. Very distinctive. Another asset, with help from a good hairdresser. Now, stand up and come over here. Yes, that’s right, I want to get a good look at you.”
Feeling foolish, and decidedly lacking, Pru walked around the desk and stood before the elegant, voluptuous Mrs. Gallagher. “I’m too short, I know.”
“A lack of height in a woman can make a man extraordinarily protective, which can be used to your advantage. And a small woman makes a man feel taller. They like that, you know. It is another asset.” Her eyes raked Pru from top to toe. “Your wardrobe, however, is not.”
Flora circled her, lifting the white muslin of her dress, running the fabric through her fingers, examining seams and construction. “You often wearthis type of ill-fitting garment,” Flora said. “It is time I took you in hand.”
Since Pru liked to sew and often made her own clothes, including this round gown and bodice, she winced at the insult.
“You really should wear more color, my girl. Your own special peaches-and-cream coloring is not set off well in white. I’m afraid it makes you look quite pallid.”
“Most of my dresses are white.”
“So I have noticed. Well, we shall need to add a bit of dash. The right cut and fabric, the right accessories can make all the
“How?”
Flora continued to shake her head in obvious frustration. “Heavens, Pru, are you that unsure of yourself?”
“Yes, I am.” How pathetic she sounded. The sting of tears was building up behind her eyes. Before she could stop herself, in a tiny whisper of a voice she said, “Help me, Flora. Please.”
She could not look up, ashamed at behaving in such an abject manner. Good Lord, she had sunk into a bog of self-pity. How foolish. Nicholas had said they should not waste time repining what could not be changed, and he was right. If he, who’d got the worst end of the bargain, was willing to make their marriage work, then by God, so was she. After a moment, she felt Flora’s hand take hers and squeeze it. Pru lifted her eyes.
“I am sorry to sound like such a pitiful creature,” she said. “Forgive me, Flora. My emotions have been running high, and I fear I have been feeling sorry for myself.”
“And why is that? You have what most women dream of. You are married to a devilishly handsome man, someone you care for deeply.”
Pru gave a little gasp.
Flora smiled. “You think I didn’t know? You do tend to wear your heart in your eyes, my girl.”
“Oh, dear.” Was it so obvious? Did everyone know? Did Nicholas?
“Don’t worry, Pru. I am sensitive to such things. Not everyone is.”
“Oh, dear. You d-don’t think—”
“Men are never that sensitive. He doesn’t know, I assure you.”
“Oh, Flora, I would die if he knew how I felt.”
“You’re not going to die, my girl. All you need to do is work on making him fall in love with you, too.”
Pru gave an unladylike snort. “You should write fiction instead of fashion reports. You have as romantic an imagination as Simon Westover. Perhaps you should pen the Cabinet ’s next sentimental tale instead of him.”
“Bosh. There’s nothing to making a man fall in love with you. And you’ve got proximity on your side, which can only help matters. What you need, Pru, is to believe you are worthy of his love. And of course, you are.”
“How am I? I’m not remotely beautiful. I’m too small. I’m too quiet. He hates my family.”
“You have filled your ledger with too many liabilities, my girl. Let us balance them with assets. First, hardly any of us is truly beautiful, but we all have good features. You have lovely blue eyes. And creamy skin.”
“I have freckles.”
“Charmingly sprinkled across your nose. Your smattering of freckles is most endearing, and helps to keep you looking young. A definite asset. Your hair…”
“I know. It’s a fright.”
“Not at all. It’s a bit untamed, but I do admire its color, a shade more red than blond. Very distinctive. Another asset, with help from a good hairdresser. Now, stand up and come over here. Yes, that’s right, I want to get a good look at you.”
Feeling foolish, and decidedly lacking, Pru walked around the desk and stood before the elegant, voluptuous Mrs. Gallagher. “I’m too short, I know.”
“A lack of height in a woman can make a man extraordinarily protective, which can be used to your advantage. And a small woman makes a man feel taller. They like that, you know. It is another asset.” Her eyes raked Pru from top to toe. “Your wardrobe, however, is not.”
Flora circled her, lifting the white muslin of her dress, running the fabric through her fingers, examining seams and construction. “You often wearthis type of ill-fitting garment,” Flora said. “It is time I took you in hand.”
Since Pru liked to sew and often made her own clothes, including this round gown and bodice, she winced at the insult.
“You really should wear more color, my girl. Your own special peaches-and-cream coloring is not set off well in white. I’m afraid it makes you look quite pallid.”
“Most of my dresses are white.”
“So I have noticed. Well, we shall need to add a bit of dash. The right cut and fabric, the right accessories can make all the
Similar Books
