Kindred by P. J. Dean

her glass. She stripped off her night gown. Looking full on, she cupped her vermilion tipped, pale breasts and squeezed them together. They were quite high and full. The personal joke between her and Daniel had been that when people asked what he admired about her, he would reply, “Her warmth and pertness.” Little did they know he referred to the place between her legs and to her chest. She had decided on a revealing polonaise the Taylor affair. It was daring, but she needed to separate herself from the herd. An extra dusting of powder would showcase her shoulders and bosom. Her hair had to be daring also. She smiled at her reflection as she pulled her gown back on. Adeline dived back into bed. After sorting each invitation by its importance, she pushed the minor ones off the bed. She sorted again, in order of the sender’s prestige and when the event was taking place. These were almost as good as money.
    “No. Better.” She fingered each one lovingly. She was enjoying this currency too much to spend it all at once.
    ****
    Tonight Cassian would attend his first ball. The George Nauls’ yearly event. They were of lesser aristocracy, and he was told that their house and its appointments would show it. Adeline had arranged their whirl of festivities to end with the most lavish affair—The Taylor House Annual Ball. He found it amusing that total strangers felt so comfortable walking up to him. They would remark on his hair and his skin, and invariably ask, “Is it true that you eat your dogs?”
    His stock response was, “No, we eat our excess children.” The question poser would giggle nervously and change the topic, ending his perverse fun. He was apprehensive, but eager to make a good impression.
    Everyone in the household would be going except for Miss Felicity. She was in bed with a case of the putrid throat. It left her unable to converse, the one positive side effect of the ailment. Fresh from his bath, Cassian stood squinting at the finery hanging on the clothes form. He would wear the elaborate get up at least two more times before his trip was over. Borrowed from Paul, he had never owned or had worn items as grand as these. The breeches were cream satin. The sleeveless, single-breasted waistcoat was heavily embroidered and teamed with an absurdly lacey, white silk shirt. The justaucorps outer coat was gold brocade. His clocked silk stockings, black leather, gold-buckled shoes and wig were placed nearby. Cassian fingered the frilly shirt sleeves, then scrutinized the wig. He detested it. He had tried to convince Paul it was not necessary, but Paul had said not wearing one on such an occasion was unheard of. The powdered accessory was supposed to be an improvement over one’s own hair, but Cassian begged to differ. It consisted of rows of horsehair, formed into rolls and locks, drawn into a queue secured by a black ribbon. He dried off with a length of linen, dressed and posed in the mirror. He laughed at his image and immediately pictured that Kindred would do the same. Kindred. The thought of her sent him searching through his valise. He found her lavender sachet, passed it under his nose, then tucked it in a chest pocket of his waistcoat. Scooping up an ebony handled walking stick, he left the room. As Cassian descended the stairs, Adeline rushed from the parlor.
    “You look delectable.” She circled him, running her hands up and down his arms and across his shoulders. “Paul, look. Does he not do your clothes justice?”
    “I am wounded to the quick, sister.” Paul clutched the front of his green silk justaucorps , in mock insult. “Am I not delectable too?” He surveyed Cassian. “The attire does suit you.”
    “Thank you.” Cassian replied. “But I’ll never cotton to this wig.” He poked a finger under a back edge to scratch a spot. “Adeline, you look fetching.” She did shine in peach silk and powdered hair. “Shall we go?”
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Fourteen
    “So, who is the host