The Bride Behind the Curtain by Darcie Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

coolly, how easily James moved down the line of the country dance with Patience stepping beside him.
    â€œTerese Summershaw is pleasant,” Adele remarked, trying to enter into the spirit of the imaginary guest list, and to force her gaze away from James. “Louisa Graham as well.” She paused, a wave of wistfulness overcoming her. How many times had she stood by similar walls, wishing she was somewhere else, with people she actually might be able to like? “Not that my opinion is ever likely to matter, of course.”
    â€œNone of ours do,” murmured Madelene. “That’s our problem, isn’t it?”
    Adele smiled ruefully. “If it did, the first thing I’d do is ban Georgiana Delacourte’s turban.”
    Madelene’s eye opened even wider. “But it is entirely the fashion!”
    â€œIt is, and it doesn’t suit her any better than this”—Adele tugged at her ruff—“does me, or all that blue lace does Patience’s pink dress. A dozen perfectly amiable ostriches must have been sacrificed to give Georgiana that forest of feathers. And those ribbons? The thing looks like it’s about to reach out and throttle her.”
    Madelene slapped her hand over her shocked gasp, but Helene just narrowed her eyes. “What should she wear?”
    The question startled Adele, and for a moment, she thought the other girl was being sarcastic, but one look told her Helene was perfectly serious.
    Unfortunately, Georgiana was in the same line as James and Patience. It was difficult, but Adele made herself look past them and concentrate on the older Delacourte sister, not really thinking, just noting the way Georgiana carried herself, the way she appeared against the surrounding crowd, the way the light fell across her skin and hair.
    â€œWith those dark curls and that complexion, she could wear green,” Adele answered slowly. “A real, rich green. And she should pin those curls up with diamonds, not cover them with a turban. She could carry off good stones. She’s got enough of an air.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure?” asked Madelene, a tone approaching wonder in her voice.
    But Helene spoke before Adele could. “What about Madelene? What would she wear if you were in charge?”
    Madelene was in pink, and it didn’t suit her any more than the yellow suited Adele. But she couldn’t say that. The girl was nervous enough. “You’re lucky,” she told Madelene instead. “You’re all sunshine with that hair and everything.”
    â€œOh no.” Madelene touched one of her trailing curls. “It’s red. It’s horrible. And I’m too thin.” Her eyes darted about the room. Clearly her nerves were getting the better of her again.
    â€œNonsense.” Helene took her friend’s arm firmly and turned her a little to face Adele. “Go on, Adele. Tell us, how would you dress Madelene?”
    Adele bit her lip and thought about some notebooks she had tucked away in her rooms. They were the results of hours of private daydreams. Could she risk showing them to these girls she barely knew?
    Patience laughed. Adele’s gaze darted back to the ballroom. Her eye lit on M. Beauclaire, standing in the corner next to Benedict Pelham. Patience was now on the other side of the room with the Delacourte sisters and Mr. Valmeyer. James nodded toward Adele, and she felt the heat of her blush rising and the ruff tighten around her throat as she tried to swallow.
    She had to get out of here.
    â€œAdele?” prompted Helene.
    â€œI’ll show you something,” she murmured to her companions. “But only if you swear never to tell a soul what you are about to see.”
    ***
    â€œGood evening, Mister Pelham, Monsieur Beauclaire.” Miss Sewell drifted casually up to where James stood with Benedict.
    â€œ
Bon soir
, Miss Sewell,” replied James, bowing. “Are you enjoying