The Resurrection of Lady Somerset by Nicola Beaumont

Author:Nicola Beaumont [Beaumont, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, regency romance, Clean and Wholesome Novels, Traditional Regency, Sweet Regency Novel, Signet Regency style romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2020-08-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“I’ve pressed your ivory jaconet,” Rebekka told Lark.

Lark stood staring out the window. In the distance, she could barely see the church steeple kissing the sky. The fog was still thick. “It looks dreadfully cold outside,” she signed, turning to face her abigail.

“That is no reason to wear a long face,” Rebekka replied. “Come and let’s get you ready for the day.”

Lark crossed the room and allowed Rebekka to remove her dressing gown and slip the slender jaconet gown onto her body.

“When do you suppose it should be appropriate to don the new gowns?” Lark glanced at the wardrobe in the corner, remembering the lovely outing she’d enjoyed while ordering the gowns that Penelope had fetched for her once they were ready. She had been tempted to wear one of them at supper last evening, but when the evening had soured, she was glad Rebekka had seen fit to talk her out of it.

“As I said last night. When you make your first appearance in society, you will want to look all new. That’s the way it’s done.”

“Yes, but no one will see if I am to wear the gowns beforehand.” Perhaps if she were to put on one of the new baroque gowns today, her gray mood would lighten. As it was, her mood was as dark as the clouds out of doors.

Rebekka stepped back and viewed her charge with quiet wisdom. “Lord Somerset would see, my dear, and you want to surprise him as much as any. More so, if you truly wish to capture his heart.”

“Why do you suppose Lord Peter told us such a story about Jona—Lord Somerset caring for me? Surely he must have known it would be discovered.”

Rebekka shuffled Lark over to the dressing table and sat her down in front of the looking glass. “Perhaps it was not a lie, miss, perhaps it was the truth.”

Lark scoffed, but did not say a word with her hands. Rebekka didn’t understand. She hadn’t been present when Jonathon said he was learning sign language only for appearance’s sake, or when he had pushed her away with obvious disdain, or when he had…Lark halted her musings. There was no need to dwell on things. She must be realistic. She had two choices. Marry Jonathon and spend a life in his presence tormented by the fact that he had married her out of obligation only, or leave Somerset Hall and spend a life not in his presence, tormented by the fact that he would have married her out of obligation only.

Lark scowled at her reflection. Rebekka had brushed Lark’s hair in short order, arranging the fine, shimmering locks and pinning them skillfully on one side of her face. Tiny golden tendrils curled naturally all around her face creating an artful frame. It did not seem to matter the skill or time Rebekka put forth, Lark was still plain.

She thought of Marie Beauchamps. How pretty Jonathon’s cousin was, a touch of rouge and a hint of lip color to enhance her simple beauty.

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