Bal Masque Read Online Free PDF

papa’s. Securing his help might require all the charm she could muster. She checked the reflection in the mirror once more. Her hair shone in well-arranged curls, the ribbons a perfect match to the lilac in her dress. Her gigot sleeves shirred to the low-shouldered bodice were not only the last stare of fashion but vastly becoming, as well. This year’s slightly shortened skirts showed her delicate ankles and dainty slippers. Whatever M’sieu Dupre’s betrothal gifts brought her, he gained a pretty package, as well, in her estimation.
    Lucienne put on a delighted smile, as if it were another accessory, and glided down the stairs to the front parlor where Charlotte was entertaining her future son-in-law. Though formally engaged, the couple could not meet without a chaperone before the wedding. Lucienne was relieved she wouldn’t have to find ways to charm and amuse Armand by herself. Frivolous chitchat and girlish glee quickly became tiresome. Armand, tediously conventional, was easier to cope with if Mama was in the room. Apparently Charlotte had enjoyed his company, smiling at him as she continued her needlework on an ornate set of napkins for the trousseau when Lucienne came to the doorway.
    Armand stood up as she entered, but Lucienne spied the elaborate rosewood box before she greeted him. Indeed he had done some extensive shopping if he’d filled that impressive box. Lucienne held out her lace-mittened hand. “M’sieu, I had begun to feel quite abandoned, having been so long without your presence.”
    He took her hand and barely touched it to his lips. “I would not give myself the pleasure of your company until I could bring gifts worthy of your glance.” His response was as orthodox as Lucienne expected. She only hoped the betrothal gifts were singular and unique, so she wouldn’t have to manufacture her appropriate coos of delight and surprise.
    “Oh, all of this for me? How gallant of you.” She settled with studied grace on the settee and touched the carved box hesitantly. “I’m sure it’s something too wonderful.” She raised the top of the box a fraction. “May I open it now? I’m worse than a child about presents; I can’t bear to wait.”
    Armand joined her on the settee and lifted the lid for her. “Here, let me help you. The heavy lid might pinch those pretty fingers.” He drew the top back and invited her to look at the ribbon-tied parcels inside. She drew the first into her lap and untied the elaborate bindings. Waves of fine Honiton lace spilled across her skirt, yards and yards of it.
    “I’ve never seen such lovely lace! Look, Mama, how pretty it is.” Lucienne spread the fabric farther, and the ecru cobweb rippled through her hands.
    “M’sieu Dupre, I fear you’re spoiling my daughter already.” Charlotte took the bundle of lace from Lucienne and began refolding it. Her words chided, but a softer note took the edge from her tone.
    “I thought this might please you.” Armand put a smaller packet into Lucienne’s hands. A fan covered in the same lace and dusted with tiny seed pearls opened at her touch.
    “Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” Lucienne fluttered it, casting a flirtatious glance over the lacy edge. Extravagant but so predictable! Ah, well, Armand looks very pleased with himself. She noted that he also looked quite debonair in his nankeen coat. The buff tone contrasted with his mahogany hair and eyes nicely. Her cousin Pierrette thought him the most handsome man in New Orleans. Lucienne had to admit he drew the eye well enough alone, though in company Philippe’s dashing style left him far behind.
    “The gift is no prettier than the cheek it touches. And this small thing is perhaps more practical.” The “small thing” was a packet of handkerchiefs, the linen so fine it was nearly transparent. “It was presumptuous of me, but I did take the liberty of having your future initials embroidered on them. I know it’s supposed to be bad luck to mark the