Perfecting Fiona Read Online Free Page B

into which he often dropped when he was supposed to be delivering cards. Mr Callaghan followed him into one of these low hostelries and loosened his tongue with drink and therefore found out the movements of the Tribbles.
    He knew he could not hope to attend this ball, but he did learn from Frank that the Tribbles’ charge was a Miss Macleod, reputed to have enormous wealth.
    Mr Desmond Callaghan decided to find a way of courting Miss Macleod, marrying her, getting her wealth, and spiting the Tribbles at the same time.
    It was such a splendid plan that, for the moment, he was content to warm his hands at the fantasy rather than do anything about it.
    Amy and Effy were proud of their dressmaker’s skill and had left Fiona in Yvette’s hands, confident that any ballgown she made would do the girl justice.
    But when Fiona appeared before them, ready to go to the ball, they wondered if Yvette had made a dreadful mistake. Fiona looked . . . well . . .
odd
.
    They had expected Fiona to wear white muslin. But for some reason, Yvette had chosen to attire Fiona in a slate-blue silk slip with an overdress of pale-green gauze edged with gold. Her hair had been cut short and curled all over her head, that fine, wispy fly-away hair through which the lamplight shone, creating an aureole around Fiona’s small head. Had Fiona been posing for an illustration for a fairy-story book, then, thought Amy, she would have been perfectly suitable. But Amy doubted if someone looking like the Queen of the Elves would cause one heart to beat faster at the ball. Gentlemen liked substantial English beauties, tall and well rounded, with plump bosoms and generous hips.
    She wanted to tell Fiona to go and put something else on, but the more she thought about it, the more she decided that white muslin, say, would simply make the girl look washed out.
    Effy had misgivings but was too taken up with the charms of her own appearance to worry overmuch about Fiona. In any case the girl had money, and money sang a sweeter song to the ears of London society than any siren could conjure up.
    Neither thought to tell Fiona how she ought to behave at the ball. Both were sure she would behave perfectly – as usual.
    Soon they were all standing in the splendour of the Penshire Town house. Other aristocrats might content themselves with being crammed into one of those tall thin Town houses while in London. The Penshires in Town maintained the same grandeur as they did in their palace in the country. Amy, Effy, and Fiona walked through a chain of rooms with porphyry columns, glittering chandeliers, and velvet carpets from a side entrance before reaching the main staircase which soared up to the ballroom. The duke and duchess had closed the main front doors and opened up the side door for the guests’ arrival so that everyone could view the downstairs rooms before ascending to the ballroom. The duke and duchess were as proud of their great wealth and possessions as if they had just recently jumped up into the higher ranks of society from obscurity instead of having been there all their lives.
    Neither of the Tribbles had been inside the Penshires’ Town house before, and yet they were not surprised at receiving an invitation. Even in the all-too-recent days of their poverty, they had been invited to the best houses. The Tribbles were
bon ton
.
    As they reached the head of the staircase, Fiona made her curtsy to the duke and duchess. ‘Delightful,’ murmured the duchess, a smile cracking her austere features.
    Amy glanced down at Fiona in surprise, but the girl was moving away into the ballroom and so she could only see the back of her head.
    Effy found three seats for them. ‘Do not worry, dear,’ she said, pressing Fiona’s hand as the first country dance was announced, ‘if you are a wallflower at your first ball.’
    And then Effy looked up and found five gentlemen jostling and bowing in front of Fiona and soliciting her to dance.
    ‘Gracious!’ said Amy as