Rhonda Woodward Read Online Free

sort of comfort to have her future so obligingly lying before her.
    Until she had seen a blond gentleman on High Street.
    She certainly was not going to share the inner workings of her thoughts with Deirdre and instead said, “You know I dearly love to dance, so I will confess that I’m looking forward to dancing with
any
gentleman who does not tromp on my toes.”
    On the step above them, Lady Buckleigh, looking elegant in her golden silks, glanced over her shoulder. Without a word, her expression said she expected her daughters to be on their best behavior.
    Instantly, Marina composed her features and checked her posture. Looking around, she saw mostly familiar faces, but was gratified that a few were unfamiliar to her.
    How lovely to have new people, new conversation, new dance partners!
    They had almost reached their hosts when Marina caught the reflection of her family in a large gilt – framed mirror on the other side of the ballroom. With an unexpected swelling of her heart, she was struck by the lovely tableau they presented.
    Everyone agreed that she favored her papa; sable hair, gray eyes—said to be from a French relative several generations back—and a tall, lean frame. Deirdre was more like Mama, average height, but with a pleasingly curvaceous figure, auburn hair and hazel eyes.
    What also struck Marina was the harmony of the gowns the three of them wore.
    Despite all the draping and pinning, the lavender-blue kerseymere gown had not arrived. Once again, a completely new creation had emerged from the tissue only two days before the ball.
    Marina had stared down at a most unusual gown of moss-green velvet, not quite sure at first what to think.
    She took in the sleeves, puffed and tucked in a most cunning manner, then tight from the middle of her upper arm to wrist. The bosom was low, but not too much so and beneath her breasts was a velvet ribbon in a slightly darker shade of moss with a cluster of smoky crystals tucked in the knot of the bow. Three rows of ruching circled the hem, with more smoky crystals sparkling here and there from within the folds.
    When she showed them, Mama and Deirdre had been doubtful, suggesting the moss-green color a little too unusual for a ball gown. Yet, when Marina tried it on, it was instantly apparent the color did the most amazing thing to her gray eyes, adding a depth and mystery to them she had never noticed. And the design and fit, though simple at first stare, were deceptively alluring.
    It was quite the most sophisticated, elegant thing she’d ever worn, and she was determined to wear it to Mr. Penhurst’s ball.
    But now, catching their reflection, she could see that the design behind all three gowns had not been an accident. Although the gowns flattered the best features of each Buckleigh lady, the colors—Deirdre’s burnt pumpkin, Marina’s moss, and Mama’s gold—complemented one another in tone. The saturation of colors created a harmony that showed the artistic ability of the designer.
    Mrs. Birtwistle truly was a wonder.
    Soon enough, they arrived before their hosts, the congenial Mr. Penhurst, whom they had met before at church services, and his elegant sister, Lady Darley, whom they had not.
    Marina had been looking forward to meeting Lady Darley, and she took a moment while the young-looking widow greeted the guests ahead of them to observe her.
    Lady Darley was a little above average, though not as tall as Marina. Her hair was a shade lighter than her brother’s golden brown, and arranged in a sophisticated twist at the back of her head with a series of ringlets across her forehead and in front of either ear.
    Her gown was a deep wine-colored satin with an overgown of matching net, which coordinated beautifully with her parure of rubies and pearls.
    In expression and fashion, Lady Darley presented a picture of regal, confident beauty. Marina was most impressed, though she thought a little sadly that she looked very young to be a widow.
    The guests