The Bride Behind the Curtain Read Online Free PDF Page B

up under her chin.
    This is was what James Beauclaire, who’d held her in his arms and laughed with her in the darkness, would see when he walked into the ballroom. Of course the rest of the world would see it, too, and then . . . and then . . .
    â€œI am sorry, m’lady,” murmured Bridget.
    â€œIt’s not your fault.” It had been made clear that if Bridget valued her place, she would not ignore Mrs. Kearsely in the matter of her niece’s clothing. Adele’s aunt was relentlessly determined to uphold the Windfords as leaders in every aspect of society, whether in fashion or lavish entertainments.
It is what my poor, dear sister would have wanted
, she said frequently, speaking of Adele’s mother. Along with,
I’m doing this all for you and your sister, Adele, so that you will have the best possible futures
.
    No matter how Adele begged, she’d never once been able to shift her aunt’s opinions. She might have attempted open defiance, but Aunt Kearsely controlled the housekeeping money. Marcus gave their aunt an allowance and left it to her to dispense appropriate sums to Adele and Patience. Which meant that while Adele had pin money, she did not have enough to purchase her own gowns.
    â€œWe’d best get you ready,” said Bridget softly. “I’ve brought up some rolls and cheese, in case you’re hungry.”
    â€œThank you, Bridget. I am rather.”
    So, Adele ate the soft rolls spread with farmhouse cheese and let the salty, comforting morsels distract her as Bridget bustled about, settling her chemise into place, lacing the bright yellow gown, tying the enormous white sash, hooking the stiff ruff closed around her neck. Then of course there was the coup de grâce. As per her aunt’s careful instructions, Bridget piled Adele’s blond hair high on her head in a fashionable mass of tiny ringlets.
    Adele looked in the mirror at the plump, sad, pale girl with the mountain of honey gold curls on her head and the ridiculous ruffles of starched lace pressed up tight against her chin.
    Say adieu to Beauclaire,
Adele instructed that girl softly.
You shall not meet again.

IV
    â€œ
Sacré merde!
What have they done to her?”
    James had been so occupied with his letters and his thoughts, not to mention his conscience, he had made himself late to the dance. A good valet would have reminded him of the passing time, but James had recently dismissed his manservant to save on expenses. As a result, he had missed the moment when the doors were thrown open and Benedict’s mural, along with all of Mrs. Kearsely’s other lavish decorations, were revealed to the gathering’s delight and applause. When he did arrive, James slipped past the receiving line as quickly as courtesy allowed to seek out Benedict, intending to apologize for missing his friend’s triumphal moment.
    But then, James had seen Lady Adele step furtively out from behind one of the room’s polished oak pillars, clearly scanning the crowd for someone in particular, and his jaw had all but dropped.
    Benedict followed James’s gaze and shook his head. “She’s done it to herself, unfortunately.”
    â€œI won’t believe it,” James snapped, which caused his friend to lift one skeptical brow.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œYou call yourself an artist! Look at her face! She’s about to die of shame.”
    â€œI noticed,” acknowledged Benedict. “I’m only surprised that you did as well.”
    James found he did not like Benedict’s tone, but movement in Lady Adele’s direction kept him from answering directly.
    â€œ
Merde!
”
    Without bothering to take any leave of Benedict, James dove headfirst into the glittering crowd.
    The music had ended, and the Delacourte sisters—Georgiana and Violette, escorted by Lewis Valmeyer and Octavius Pursewell—were strolling off the dance floor. James craned