A Lady Never Tells (The Lizzie Blackwood Mystery Series Book 1) by Kira Jane Harper

Author:Kira Jane Harper [Harper, Kira Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-28T23:00:00+00:00

I stood before my wardrobe, my fingers grazing the fine fabrics that whispered promises of elegance and propriety. Today's choice of attire was more than a simple matter of fashion—it was a strategic decision, one that required careful thought and planning. The dress I would wear to tea with Giselle had to strike the perfect balance between high society's expectations and my own disdain for such frivolities.

With a sigh, I selected a gown of pale blue silk; the fabric flowing like water over my hands. The bodice was adorned with delicate lace and pearl buttons that shimmered in the morning light. It was the sort of dress that Giselle would approve of—tasteful, refined, and utterly suffocating.

As I dressed, Bess helped cinch the corset tighter than usual. "Miss Blackwood, you do want to make an impression, don't you?" she asked with a knowing look.

"Yes, Bess," I replied, holding onto the bedpost as she pulled the laces. "But let's not make it my last breath."

With every tug of the corset strings, I felt my freedom constricting. By the time Bess finished her task, I stood taller, more composed—every inch the lady Mother expected me to be.

I pinned up my hair in an elegant chignon and applied a hint of rouge to my cheeks, enough to suggest health but not impropriety. Looking into the mirror, I saw a reflection that would please both Mother and Giselle—a vision of societal perfection.

Descending the stairs in measured steps to avoid tripping over my own skirt, I found Mother waiting in the parlor. Her eyes lit up at the sight of me, and for a moment I could almost forget our recent disagreements.

"You look beautiful," she said with a warmth that reached her eyes.

"I can barely breathe," I responded lightly, smoothing down my dress. "But as long as my fashion sense is on trend."

Her smile faltered as she shot me a warning look. "Elizabeth," she chided softly. "This is important."

I nodded once, acquiescing to her unspoken command to take this seriously—for her sake if not for mine. The tightness around my ribs served as a constant reminder of the role I was about to play: Lizzie Blackwood, dutiful daughter seeking a friendship with Giselle Hawthorne. It was a performance worthy of Port Meridian's grandest stage.

With one last glance in the hall mirror to ensure every hair was in place and every crease smoothed out, I prepared myself for what lay ahead. The tea with Giselle would be no simple social call—it was another piece on the chessboard that was Port Meridian's high society. And I intended to play it with precision.

The rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves against cobblestone filled the air as Mother and I sat in the enclosed space of the carriage. My gown's skirt pooled around me like a frothy wave, the blue silk a stark contrast to the red velvet seat. I clasped my hands in my lap, feeling the press of the corset with each breath.

"How was Father?" I asked, turning my head to look at Mother.

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