Gentleman of Her Dreams by Jen Turano

hope the maid didn’t notice anything unusual. She grinned. Honestly, if she didn’t look unusual at the moment, she’d eat this gown. She moved to the mirror, grabbing hold of a chest of drawers when she tripped on the hem. She twitched the fabric out of her way and straightened, her grin widening when she got a good look at her reflection.
    She looked like an opera singer.
    Large blue eyes stared back at her out of a pale face which had a smattering of freckles marching along the bridge of her nose. Her grin turned into a smile, showing straight white teeth and causing a dimple to pop out on her right cheek. Her smile faded as her eyes lifted to her hair, hair which she had pulled tightly away from her face and secured in a matronly bun, in no way resembling the intricate styles of her past. She shook herself. There was no time for reflection just now.
    Her gaze traveled the length of her body, and her mouth dropped open. Although she’d managed to get the gown over her middle, it now gaped around the neckline, and she was at a loss as to how to fix that little problem. She tugged the material up only to have it slide back down the moment she let go.
    “Pins,” she declared, spinning on her heel and stumbling over to a table which held a battered jewelry box some former governess had apparently left behind. She rummaged around in it for a minute and managed to locate a few pins. She jabbed them into the fabric and moved back to the mirror.
    “That’s hardly better, but it will have to do,” she told her reflection.
    Would anyone be able to recognize her? Her gaze lingered on the dumpy and unusually shaped woman staring back at her. Who would ever believe she’d once been the most sought-after woman in London? What would her friends think if they could see her now?
    “You don’t have any friends,” she muttered, turning away from the mirror as a knock sounded on her door.
    “Come in.”
    The door opened, and a maid by the name of Mary entered the room. “Mrs. Watson asked me to assist you, but it seems you managed nicely on your own.”
    “I still have a few buttons I couldn’t reach.”
    Mary stepped to Eliza’s side and quickly buttoned her up. “What an interesting color.”
    “Lily thinks it clashes with my hair,” Eliza said.
    “It does at that, but I must say, it’s not all horrible. The color draws attention to your eyes.”
    “That will never do.” Eliza moved back to the jewelry box and pushed the contents around, delighted when she located an old pair of spectacles. She shoved them on her face and then promptly lost her balance as the room swam out of focus.
    “I didn’t know you wore spectacles,” Mary said.
    Eliza thought Mary might be frowning in her direction, but as she couldn’t clearly see her face, she wasn’t sure. “I only wear them on very rare occasions, dinners mostly. Spectacles make it easier to see the silver.”
    “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but if you can’t see the silver, I suppose you should keep them on,” Mary said. “Pity though, seeing as you have such lovely eyes and Mr. Hamilton Beckett is expected tonight.” Mary lowered her voice. “He’s the most sought-after gentleman in New York.”
    “Then I would have to believe it would be difficult for me to garner his attention with or without my spectacles,” Eliza said wryly. “I am the governess and the only reason I’ve been pressed into service is because Agatha’s developed spots.”
    Mary made a tsking noise under her breath.
    Eliza frowned. “Do you know about Agatha’s spots?”
    “The entire house knows about the spots.”
    “Does Agatha make a habit of refusing to attend her mother’s dinners?” Eliza asked.
    “No, but I believe the poor dear has finally had enough of her mother’s schemes. I overheard them earlier today, and they were engaged in a bit of a tiff. I don’t believe Miss Agatha appreciated the fact Mrs. Watson was forcing her to sit next to Mr. Beckett at