Love in Three-Quarter Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

she masked them beneath her long, fluttering lashes. But she had since come to grips with them, and they fit her new image—as did her hair pulled into its tight chignon with not a wisp out of place. One might almost miss its fiery glow.
    She ran a hand over the skirt of her sage green dress. The garment was outdated and a bit worn at the edges, as was all their Cavendish clothing, but still pretty and respectable. The sturdy cotton walking dress would have to do, for she could not risk a traveling costume. In her contraband valise she had packed three muslin day dresses and a butter-yellow evening gown with matching shoes. She couldn’t bear to bring the rose silk she had worn the night her life changed forever, although it remained in the best repair. Those dresses and a few necessities were all she dared sneak from the house.
    Hopefully, Mother would not notice the riding boots worn in place of her usual soft leather slippers. Boots, however, were worth the risk, for she would not under any circumstances lug a pair of ugly iron pattens along. How fashionable society could condone such horrid contrivances, she would never understand.
    She arranged her hat, donned her gloves, and wrapped a creamy cashmere shawl about her shoulders, although wild Gingersnap would have shunned them all once upon a time. Shoes would be abandoned as well, if the weather permitted. Peering closer into the mirror, Constance inspected her face to make sure it showed no hint of her nervous excitement. Color normal. Brow relaxed. Eyes blank. Lips bland.
    Perfect.
    Approaching the stairs at a normal gait this time, she descended. “Mother, is the letter ready? I shall deliver it to Trader Jack as Patience suggested.”
    â€œOn the stand by the door, darling. And drop the other at the postal office. But are you sure we shouldn’t wait for your Aunt Serena to add another letter?”
    â€œWe can’t afford the delay. You know how busy she is.”
    â€œTrue.”
    Constance gathered the envelopes into her reticule, reached for the front door, and then paused. “You didn’t mention Mrs. Beaumont’s son in the letter, did you? I’m not certain he’d even remember me.” She clenched her teeth as she listened for the reply.
    â€œNo. I didn’t want her to wait for a recommendation if he is abroad as we suspect he may be.”
    â€œGood.” She’d never admit how good it was. Realizing she might not see her family for months, Constance dashed to the parlor and dropped a quick kiss on each of their cheeks. She hurried out the door before they could pause to question why or take note of her footwear.
    At the end of the block, Constance turned and scurried around the house to collect her valise and then go out the back gate to take a circular route. Once safely away, she released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Patience would explain everything later, and when she did, Constance had no doubt they’d be relieved to have the decision taken from their hands.
    The mercantile was only a few blocks away through the row of elegant, narrow townhouses made of brick. She might have bothered to worry about the neighbors gossiping to Mother concerning her traveling bag, except no one spoke to the Cavendishes. Indeed, no one she passed offered more than a civil nod, and others looked away as though she didn’t exist. By the time someone would talk to Aunt Serena and Aunt Serena would deign to visit Mother, Constance would be long gone.
    Down the lane, Constance spied Mrs. Jane Wellington, premier matron of Richmond society and a close friend to her aunt. The ample lady with her voluptuous figure and soaring gray hair waddled toward Constance with a retinue of servants in tow. If anyone might be kind to her, if anyone might offer her one last chance to remain in town, it could only be Mrs. Jane Wellington.
    Constance truly had no desire to run off alone and face Robert