atience gave her gown a twitch, and stared anxiously at herself in the mirror. Although she knew her features lacked classical beauty, she was nevertheless justifiably pleased with her appearance—indeed she showed to such advantage she could scarcely believe that the young lady looking back at her with wide eyes from the mirror was that same governess who had arrived in this house just a few months ago.
She had already been presented to the king, as etiquette demanded, and although she had been quite nervous that her name might engender disgust in her monarch, that had not been the case. She had been presented with three other young ladies about to debut that season, and the king had been gracious to all. And now it was the evening of the ball, and she had the whole night ahead of her to look forward to.
Lady Costain had decreed that she wear white for her come-out and had presented her with the gown that morning, brushing aside her protestations of gratitude.
‘You have worked hard enough, my dear, sewing your fingers to the bone to put together a very creditable wardrobe, but I will not have my protégée entering society in a home-made gown. ’Tis nothing, a mere trifle, I assure you.’
Patience twirled around, luxuriating in the swish of silk and the size of the hoop. Her hair, dressed simply and unpowdered, looked dark and glossy against the white of her gown, and the single strand of pearls which had been her mother’s set off her slender neck to advantage. She wore no other adornment save a sprig of fresh flowers in her hair.
She wandered around the room restlessly, feeling nervous and more than a little apprehensive.
Tonight she was to be launched into polite society, and could still hardly believe she was about to enter that world which she had thought