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Tricia preferred dark colors, even though, once the season formally began in April, most ladies would wear lighter colors. Dark hues suited Tricia much better.
Tricia, along with her mother and her sister, took the stairwell up to their assigned chamber. Lady Clementine excused herself to her own chamber, while Trudy helped Tricia dress for the ball. Katrina sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide, watching.
The deep-violet gown’s skirt was voluminous and adorned with layers of tulle that rustled softly with each movement. The bodice was exquisitely tailored to accentuate Tricia’s slender waist and embellished with delicate lace and tiny shimmering pearls that caught the light with every turn.
Trudy assisted Tricia into her corset first, pulling the strings tight to achieve the fashionable hourglass figure. Tricia stood and held her breath, hating with a passion as purple as the gown itself the constriction she must endure. She fixed her gaze on her reflection in the gilded looking glass. Once the corset was secured, Trudy helped her into the petticoats.
Next came the dress itself. Tricia raised her arms slightly as Trudy lifted the gown over her head, allowing the silk to cascade down around her form. They worked together to settle the fabric properly, ensuring the bodice fit snugly and the skirts flowed elegantly without a single misplaced pleat.
Trudy then fastened the multitude of tiny buttons at the back. With the gown arranged, Trudy attended to Tricia’s hair, styling it into an elaborate updo adorned with tiny violets that matched the color of the gown. Each violet was pinned carefully and interspersed with small loops of pearls.
As a final touch, Trudy draped a delicate shawl around Tricia’s shoulders, the fine lace trimmed with hints of silver thread that added a subtle sparkle. Tricia’s transformation was complete.
“Thank you, Trudy,” Tricia said.
Trudy smiled shyly. “You look truly beautiful, my lady. You shall be the belle of the ball.”
With a final approving glance at her reflection, Tricia rose from her seat, her confidence buoyed by the knowledge that her appearance was nothing short of exquisite. She was now fully prepared to grace the ball.
She only hoped her beautiful gown and exquisite hairstyle were enough to capture Thomas’s attention.
29
Another bloody ball.
Thomas had much more on his mind, but as he had reminded himself again and again over the past two days, he was the host of this affair, and once more, he would have many young ladies and their mothers trying to get his attention at the festivities this evening. At least he’d had the presence of mind to ask Maria to change the seating for Polk and Jonathan at the evening meal. He couldn’t bear the thought of either of them anywhere near Tricia.
He escorted his mother into the ballroom. The orchestra announced their arrival, and as usual, people headed toward them to pay their respects.
Lily and the Duke had already arrived, as had Rose and Cameron. Thomas glanced around.
No sign of Tricia yet. He drew in a breath and glanced at the entrance?—
The breath hitched in his throat.
There stood Tricia—a vision in violet.
Her mother, Lady Clementine, was dressed in a lighter version of the same hue. She was a handsome woman, to be sure, but she paled in comparison to her daughter.
“Excuse me, Mummy.”
Lady Ashford smiled. “Please, Thomas. Do not concern yourself with me. Do try to have a good time.”
He’d neglected to dance with Tricia two evenings ago during the first ball. He intended to remedy that now. He adjusted his gloves and walked toward Tricia and her mother.
“Lady Patricia.” He bowed. “And Lady Clementine.”
“My lord.” Tricia curtsied politely.
“Lady Clementine,” Thomas said, “I hope you don’t mind if I take Tricia for a dance.”
“Of course not, Lord Ashford,” Lady Clementine said. “Please, enjoy yourselves, both of you.”
Tricia’s pretty cheeks were flushed a lovely rose, and as Thomas took her hand and led her to the dance floor, the subtle fragrance of violets drifted toward him.
Tricia was wearing violets in her hair which were nearly the same shade as her dress.
“You are a vision, Tricia,” he said as they began a waltz.
