Page 23 of The Mistletoe Duke

“I don’t know. Reptilian?”

Meg burst out laughing and sat up to eye her friend. “Tell me how you really feel,” she jested.

Susana flushed. “I don’t mean to be petty. There’s just something cold and predatory about her.”

“Jonathan isn’t a fool. He will never choose a woman who isn’t warm and sincere.”

“I know.” Susan sighed. “But women often see things in other women that men miss.”

So true. “Who else is here?”

“The Pickerings arrived early. The Mountbattens and the Evertons right after.” Meg nodded. She remembered those families from her season. “And of course, Jonathan’s friends Mattingly and St. Clare arrived last night.”

“Last night?”

Susana huffed. “Christian was up with them ’til all hours and came to bed sotted with brandy and smelling of cheroots.” She put out a lip. “I made him sleep on the divan.”

“Never say you make your husband sleep on the divan!”

“When he smells of cheroots, I do. I made quite clear this nonsense is not to continue.”

“I’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior, now that the party is underway.”

Susana smiled. “Yes. It is. And I cannot wait to get started on you.”

Meg boggled. “On me?”

“Oh yes, darling. Now get up. We have a lot of work to do before tonight!”

* * *

Had she known what Susana had in mind, Meg might have run. Good lord. She’d forgotten how much work it took to prepare for a simple party. There was bathing and powdering and all manner of fiddling with her hair. Susana had brought her hairdresser, but she’d conscripted the dowager’s hairdresser as well because Meg needed to look absolutely perfect.

“Honestly,” she’d complained at one point when one hairdresser tugged her one way and the other another. “I think a simple bun will work.”

They were all—all three of them—horrified.

“A bun will not do,” Susana said. “Companions wear buns. You need an elaborate coif. Remember, you are angling for a high-ranking husband.”

Meg frowned at her. “Am I?”

“Yes. Now hush and let us work.”

Outnumbered, Meg let the possibility of a simple hairdo drop. When they swung her around to face the glass, she was stunned.

It was not Meg Chalmers, companion to the dowager, who looked back. It was some kind of fanciful swan with a long, elegant neck highlighted by an impossibly intricate creation of swirls and curls atop her head.

She stared. “Surely that is not me.”

Susana beamed. “Lovely, isn’t it?” And then, she corrected herself. “Aren’t you? The men will fall at your feet. Oh. Speaking of feet…” She rushed to her dressing room and returned with a pair of blue slippers. “These will match the dress perfectly.”

“Are they yours?”

A twinkle lit her eye. “No. I found them in the attic.”

“In the attic?”

She sobered and fingered the sequins on the shoes. “I think they may have been Tessa’s.”