PERHAPS SHE COULD NOT escape.

The weather impeded that.

The duke was right...she shouldn’t risk her life. Perhaps she’d already lost her heart, but at least she could maintain Theodosia’s plan.

Tonight is the ball.

Her stomach tightened.

She reminded herself no one would recognize her.

This was Yorkshire, and Lady Theodosia did not expect to see any of her friends here. And if someone had met Lady Theodosia, they likely did not know her well enough to know Celia was an imposter. They did look similar, and Lady Theodosia had spent last season on the French Riviera. 

Lord Worthing had seemed suspicious at first, but even he gave no evidence of suspecting a deception.

I hope I won’t be asked to dance.

She only knew country dances, and there were only so many the musicians might play.

Nervousness riddled through her.

Perhaps if she confessed to the duke she would not have to attend the ball.

She frowned.

Of course I wouldn’t have to.

The duke wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her. He’d likely send her straight to Lady Fitzroy. She was staying in the region after all. She would discover soon that Lady Theodosia had eloped, and if Lady Fitzroy found Lady Theodosia before they had wed... Celia swallowed hard.

She wouldn’t want to commit Lady Theodosia to an unhappy life.

Not when Celia had discovered the powerfulness of love. How could she possibly deny Theodosia that? If Celia could never experience it, she wanted her sister to be able to do so.

Music wafted to the bedroom. The musician’s must have arrived. She listened to the velvety notes of the violins and cellos as they practiced.

A knock sounded on the door, and Celia strode toward it. “Come in.”

The door opened, and the maid, Margaret, stood before her. “I’ve come to dress you, my lady. Get you lovely looking for the ball. Not that you aren’t already lovely.”

Margaret strode toward the large wardrobe and opened the door. “Do you know what you will wear?”

This is really happening.

Somehow she’d hoped Lady Theodosia would arrive early, even if she knew it was impossible.

“There is a white evening gown inside,” Celia said finally. “White is always pretty.”

It was Lady Theodosia’s plainest ballgown.

“Nonsense. I’ve seen you wear that to dinner. And I see an even lovelier gown in here.” Margaret pulled out the gold gown triumphantly. “These sleeves! This shimmering material!”

Celia stared at it.

She did adore the gown.

“I can’t wear it,” she said.

“Why ever not?”

“I-I might ruin it.”

The excuse sounded feeble even to Celia, and Margaret smiled. “Then I shall mend it for you, my lady. I’m quite the expert. His Grace has a habit of putting the oddest chemicals on his attire.”

Celia smiled. That did sound like Frederick.

“Stand up,” Margaret ordered.

Margaret dressed her. She’d found new undergarments that tied in the back and left Celia feeling stiff and rigid. She’d been wearing Lady Theodosia’s attire all week, but she’d never looked like this before.

She felt more constrained now, and the differentiation between her former self as a maid had never felt stronger. Her undergarments pressed against her ribs, and kneeling to light a fire seemed like it would be an impossible feat.

“Now let me do your hair,” Margaret said.

Celia nodded and sat down on the stool. From time to time she glanced at Margaret, conscious of the concentration on her face as she coiled Celia’s locks. Likely Margaret was finding it difficult to make her look pretty.

“Why don’t you look at yourself, my lady,” Margaret said.

Celia nodded and turned to the mirror.

She managed to not gasp.

She knew her reflection had to be her, but she’d never seen herself appear like this.

She looked...beautiful.

Her hair lay in perfect curls that spilled from her coiffure. Every strand was glossy and perfect. Her face seemed to glow, enhanced by Margaret’s administrations.

The gold dress fit perfectly. She moved her finger over the soft, shimmering fabric. “It’s beautiful.”

Margaret smiled. “You are beautiful, my lady.” She gave her a thoughtful look. “His Grace will be most delighted.”

*

EVERYTHING WAS PREPARED for tonight’s ball.

Lady Theodosia had shown no more signs of leaving early. Perhaps she’d simply been overwhelmed. It must be difficult that her companion had left suddenly.

Perhaps tonight they might dance together.

“When have you ever hummed before?” Frederick’s mother murmured.

He turned around. Perhaps he should feel embarrassed at the knowing look his mother gave him, but instead he smiled. “I wasn’t aware I was humming.”

“You were.”

“Are you implying my humming is less pleasant than my piano playing?” He grinned.

“It’s more pleasant.”

He blinked. “Had I known earlier, I would have insisted on not taking so many piano lessons.”

“You play the piano brilliantly,” his mother said. “You’re my child. But your humming...It means you are happy, and I will prefer that to any concerto.”

“Oh.” His smile faltered.

Had happiness been such an unusual state for him? Had his mother worried?

“I know it was difficult for you as a child. You were always so clever. So gifted. There weren’t many children in the area. You were so alone.”

“It was fine,” he said. “This region is beautiful.”

“It was my fault,” she said. “I should have worked harder to form connections with my peers.”

“They weren’t welcoming,” he said.

“Still...”

Frederick despised the regretful look in his mother’s eyes.

“I never thought of myself as sensitive,” his mother said. “Certainly I never thought of myself as shy.”

“One would hope not,” Frederick said. “Otherwise singing before a mob at Covent Garden must have been most unpleasant.”

“I was invited to events to begin with. People were curious. But the stares and whispers made me uneasy. I favored staying home with my husband and child. Looking back though...I should have forged connections. I should have attended events, if only so you would be able to make friends with other children. I-I was selfish. Forgive me.”

Frederick widened his eyes, and he knelt before his mother. “I never for one moment felt I was missing anything.”

“You were always a sweet boy,” his mother said. “But you don’t have to be so alone again. Not anymore.”

He swallowed hard.

She was talking of Lady Theodosia.

“Then you would not mind having another person in this house...permanently?”

“Oh, I would very much mind.”

His heart sank. He’d misread her after all.

His mother leaned closer to him, and for some reason, her eyes glimmered. “I would very much hope to have many permanent additions to this family.”

He widened his eyes.

“I am speaking of grandchildren,” she said, smiling.

“Oh.”

“You could do far worse than Lady Theodosia. I suggest you keep her.”

He nodded. “I will have to travel to get her mother’s permission to marry her.”

“Somehow I doubt she will reject your suit,” his mother said. “I do subscribe to Matchmaking for Wallflowers.”

“Oh.” He blushed. He’d been upset when he’d learned about the article, but clearly his future mother-in-law had been right to desire a match between him and her daughter.

“Going to London will be unnecessary,” his mother said.

“Do you want me to drag her to Gretna Green? Perhaps we can even see that flighty companion of hers.”

“Nonsense. But I may have insisted Lady Fitzroy join the festivities. I wrote her myself.”

“When?”

“After the first night, once Lady Somerville mentioned she was staying with Lady Amberly.”

“You knew I would want to make an offer even then?”

“I have never seen a couple who cared more about each other.”

He shifted. “I wouldn’t call us a couple—”

“Perhaps you’re not officially. But I’ve seen the affection you hold for her. And I’ve seen the affection she holds for you. She loves you, my dear. And that’s all a mother can hope for her son.”

“Oh.”

“Now, why don’t you see what’s keeping her?”

He rose and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Then he left the room to find Lady Theodosia.

His love.

His destiny.