Anne Barbour by A Dangerous Charade Read Free Book Online

dose of the waters will improve your disposition.”
    March had the grace to flush.
    Such was Meg’s excitement over the bonnet in Milsom Street, that the group found themselves rushing through an early luncheon. Not an hour later, Alison and Meg were strolling along Milsom Street, having just purchased the desired length of green ribbon from a mercier in Bath Street.
    “There, Alison, in that window!” cried Meg, grasping Alison’s arm and pulling her toward the milliner’s shop. “That charming villager hat. Is it not precious?”
    Alison peered at the astonishing creation displayed with such hopeful prominence. It could, she supposed, be called a villager, for it had a wide brim, but on the whole it looked more like a coal scuttle, featuring a towering crown surmounted by feathers. A profusion of rosebuds decorated the brim, the whole being anchored to the wearer’s chin by several yards of wide, very bright pink ribbon.
    After a moment’s reflection, Alison said hesitantly. “It’s quite, er ... tall, is it not?”
    “Yes,” replied Meg gleefully. “That is precisely what makes it so dashing. Come, let me try it on for your inspection.”
    Dragging Alison bodily inside the shop, Meg motioned to a salesclerk, who brought the desired article to her. Tying the ribbon at a rakish angle beneath one ear, she cocked her head.
    “Well, what do you think?”
    The kindest word to describe it, thought Alison, was bizarre.
    “It is indeed most—uh—most unusual.”
    Meg turned to the mirror, examining herself critically from every angle.
    “Shall I purchase it?”
    “You must do what you want, of course, Meg, but—I wonder ...”
    Meg swung around, wide-eyed.
    “You wonder what? Oh, Alison, never tell me you think it’s too sophisticated. Everyone says that to me all the time, but I was sure you would not.”
    “That’s just it, my dear. There is something about it—perhaps all those rosebuds, that makes you appear absurdly youthful. One would not take you for more than fifteen in it.”
    Meg whirled to the mirror with a gasp.
    “Oh! Oh, dear, I believe you are right,” she concluded after a moment’s perusal of her appearance. She sighed. “And I think those ribbons make me look sallow, in addition. How very lowering.”
    “But look over there at that rakish little capote,” said Alison diplomatically. “I fear Lady Edith will think it quite daring, but I do believe it would suit you.”
    Meg raced to try on the capote, and as Alison had hoped, she declared it “bang up to the echo.” The price was so reasonable that Meg felt almost obliged to purchase a silk bandeau embroidered with acorns as well.
    Since Meg had airily dispensed with the services of a maid, she carried the bandbox containing her new purchases herself, and swinging it gaily over one arm, proceeded with Alison down Milsom Street. When they reached the ill-named Quiet Street, Meg bethought herself of a shop that carried yet another essential, a supply of reticules and scarves.
    “For I still have enough left from my allowance for another Norwich silk, you know,” she advised Alison, who nodded in complete understanding. Inside the shop, as Meg rummaged through a display of luxurious silk accessories, Alison found herself unable to resist a zephyr scarf shot with silver, and when they again emerged onto the street, the ladies found themselves so burdened with their purchases that they elected to return to the Pump Room immediately.
    Moving through the narrow passageway of Bridewell Lane, Meg turned again to her friend.
    “Tell me what you think of March,” she said. “Isn’t he wonderful? I am so lucky to have him for a brother.
    Alison searched her mind for a suitable response. “He—he seems quite devoted to his family.”
    “Oh, yes. He used to be somewhat of a scapegrace. Indeed,” she continued, observing Alison’s expression of disbelief, “before he went to the Continent, he was quite the man about town—always