Chapter Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I T WAS AN EFFORT OF T HE D ANCING D OZEN, GETTING E VELYN TO THE party that day. After the rousing success of the investors’ preview, they’d all rushed directly home to set about preparing her—and they did not disappoint.
Beatrice’s dress fit perfectly. With the right pair of slippers (borrowed from Rose’s small collection) to adjust for the difference in their height, the striking silver-blue gown laced by Natia clung to her body as though it had been made for her by magic. To complement the gown’s effect, Therese also styled her hair in an appropriately fashionable manner while Debora ensured that her makeup conformed to the rules of the ballroom and not the theater. The ironing and pinning and bustling and polishing had been done by all the rest.
She looked as beautiful as she felt.
And she felt like the most beautiful woman who’d ever lived.
Yet, when she and Beatrice arrived by rented cab at the swirling wrought iron gates of the Conthorpe estate, Evelyn couldn’t seem to move herself from the darkened safety of the carriage.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” she asked.
Beatrice glanced through the glass window at the throngs of attendees lingering in the illuminated, gated garden.
“No,” she said, without a trace of envy or disappointment. “I swore I would never go back, and I have no intentions of making a liar out of myself, thank you very much.”
That was as close to a get lost as Evelyn had ever heard from Beatrice, but still … she twisted her fan in her silk-gloved fingers.
“I haven’t ever done this before.”
“What? Been in love?”
“Well, I actually meant attend a party as fancy as this , but yes. I suppose you’re just as correct. I don’t have the first idea what to do in this situation.”
The cab lurched forward. Evelyn’s stomach clenched. Only a few moments now and she would arrive at the most important night of her life.
“Well, when it comes to the love bit, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I was always a failure in that department. However,” Bea said, reaching across the small space of the carriage to tuck a lock of hair back into Evelyn’s pins, “check your ankles in the mirrors. If you slip up and show one, they won’t ever let you live it down. Never drink the punch given to you by a stranger. If you play cards, you must cheat, and when you cheat, you mustn’t get caught. And …”
Their eyes met. Bea hesitated.
“And?” Evelyn prompted.
“Don’t ever let them hurt you.”
A chuckle—nervous. “Or don’t let them know they’ve hurt me.”
“No,” Beatrice said in one of her famous don’t argue tones. “Don’t ever let them hurt you. Anything that’s worth having, they can’t take away from you. I promise.”
The carriage door finally opened.
“Wish me luck.”
“I would, but you don’t need it.”
And when Evelyn stepped out of the carriage and into her future, she held on to one simple truth above all. No matter what happened tonight, at least she was gifted with some truly remarkable friends.
Love of a different kind. But still. Love.
And it was that love that gave her the strength to press forward, ready to receive—and give—even more.