Chelynne by Robyn Carr

breeches and waistcoat were brightly colored and an abundance of lace could be seen at his neck and wrists. Buckled shoes and periwig did not seem to suit him as boots and windblown hair did, but there was no mistaking him. He was a fine figure of a man. Even in this attire there was nothing foppish about him. He wore even lace and wig with a strong masculine flavor.
    Chelynne was not allowed the peaceful daydreams brought by the sight of him. She was pulled away from the window and the ministrations of grooming were applied to her again. Many years of training had gone into the making of a gentlewoman who would aptly fit into the class of nobility. Chelynne had been served, pampered, and waited on by her own women since birth. Being bathed was nothing new to her. Having her body clothed and her hair fashioned by hands other than her own was routine. But what she went through that day stripped away the last vestige of her pride. Not one portion of her body was overlooked. A large pumice was rubbed along her arms and legs until every last trace of body hair was removed. She was bathed and oiled and massaged, and then the same procedure was repeated. Her hair was washed, dried, and shined with a long piece of silk, and a hot iron was used to make tight ringlets around her face.
    When at last it was time to complete her hairdressing for the ball there was a great deal of commotion, everyone attending her seeming to have a different opinion. But this once Chelynne was insistent. She wished to have the long heavy masses pulled tightly away from her face and crowning the top of her head with thick curls. She was small beside Chad and would have the elaborate style give her height.
    A gown of pale blue was chosen for this first affair. It was sewn with many tiny silver studs, twinkling and shimmering. One blue sapphire in the center of a silver blossom adorned her throat while two tiny sapphire buds touched her ears. A blue ribbon was woven through her curls and, to catch the candlelight and delicately glitter, little silver stones were buried beneath the locks. The gown hugged her youthful figure, letting her full breasts rise and her small waist tempt any man to touch.
    She eyed her own appearance with satisfaction, slightly agog at her own striking beauty. She had dressed formally before but never had there been this lift in her heart, this eagerness to please a lover. It was in fact the first time she had ever dressed for a man...and the difference delighted her.
    Slightly breathless, she turned and murmured to Stella softly. “Do you think he will find me attractive?”
    “Unless he is blind, dear heart,” Stella answered proudly.
    Outside her window she could see the torches in the garden being lit. The moon was full and round and the night was beautiful. With pages holding up her train, she took slow careful steps down the stairs. The servants she passed bowed and smiled, their eyes lighting up in appreciation. The moment she had lived for was here. All the poise and charm that had been bred into her would be put to the true test. She was afraid it would all be useless to her now. She had never wanted to please more, but she was frightened half to death. She paused as she reached the ballroom doors and sucked in her breath. She gave a tiny nod of determination to the butler and the doors swung open to admit her.
    She had seen this room before, but never had it filled her with fairylike wonder. The elegantly garbed ladies and gentlemen who lingered along the walls, becoming reacquainted with friends, looked her way. There were great tables of food ready to be tasted; impressively uniformed servants picked their way among the guests to replace empty glasses with full ones. In the middle of this tumult stood Chad and his father, waiting for her arrival. They were chatting with one of the women she had met at breakfast, a recent widow of admirable beauty. The woman between them saw her first and stopped her conversation to