Royal's Bride by Kat Martin

the inevitable any longer. She would have to go upstairs and ready herself for the evening. Last night, she had declined supper and hadn’t seen Royal since the interlude in the maze, but she had to face him sooner or later.
    By now he would have realized the mistake he had made and banished any affection he might have felt for her. He would see Jocelyn in a different light and be resigned to his upcoming marriage.
    Lily told herself it was best for everyone and ignored the heavy weight that had settled in the middle of her chest.

Nine
    T he duchess’s suite was littered with petticoats, drawers and an array of different evening gowns: a yellow silk, a mauve organdy, a silver-gray peau de soie . A corset lay open in the middle of the big four-poster bed next to where Lily stood waiting to leave for the party downstairs.
    Jo had finally settled on a deep blue velvet gown with an overskirt and puffed sleeves of shot silver netting, a dress that made her eyes seem to change from dark blue to their unusual violet hue. The gown accented her cousin’s lush figure and ivory skin and rode low on her shoulders, displaying an intriguing amount of her generous bosom.
    Lily eyed her from head to foot. “You’ve made the perfect choice. You couldn’t look lovelier, Jo.”
    Jocelyn grinned at herself in the mirror. “I’ll show that witch Serafina. Hand me my slippers, will you?” She surveyed the silver overskirt gleaming in the lamplight. “Royal won’t even look at that woman once he sees me in this.”
    Lily felt a tightening around her heart. “I’m sure he won’t.” No matter the uncertainties he might be feeling about his marriage, no man could keep from staring at a woman who looked like Jo. Beautiful was far too dim a word to describe her. Radiant was closer, but still not enough. “At any rate, I don’t think Serafina is his type.”
    Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “How naive you are, Lily. Every woman is a man’s type—as long as she is willing. And I know for a fact, Lady Serafina Maitlin has been willing on more than one occasion.”
    Lily’s eyes widened. “Truly?”
    “I know she took Lord Holloway as her lover and I am fairly certain she had a tryst with Christopher Barclay.”
    “Did he tell you that?”
    “No. Christopher is a gentleman. But there’s a special way a man looks at a woman he’s had. I could tell by the way Serafina looked at Christopher and the way he looked at her.”
    “You mean, like they both knew a secret about each other.”
    Jocelyn nodded sagely. “Exactly so.” Seating herself on the stool in front of the mirror, she waited for Lily to fasten the clasp on the extravagant diamond necklace her father had given her on her nineteenth birthday.
    Jocelyn rose to her feet and took a last assessing glance in the mirror. “You go down first. I’ll come down a few minutes later.”
    Jo liked to make an entrance. Lily was certain that in the gown she was wearing, she would.
    “I’ll see you downstairs,” Lily said, feeling as if she would rather face a hangman’s noose than spend the evening with a roomful of people she did not know. Intruth, though she worked to hide the fact, she was more of a country miss than she appeared, happier to be sewing than dancing.
    She left the room and headed downstairs, pausing at the top of the ornate staircase to straighten the bodice of her apricot silk gown. She had remodeled it to fit her more slender figure, removed several pearl buckles and some of the extra moss-green satin trim, leaving a simpler version she thought more becoming on her.
    She tried not to wonder if Royal would like it, but when she looked down, he was standing in the entry staring up at her, his handsome face creased with a smile of approval.
    It quickly disappeared as she reached the bottom of the staircase, and his manner turned formal. “Miss Moran. You look lovely this evening.”
    “Thank you, Your Grace.”
    “I hope you are looking forward to the evening. You