She had been primped and primed to within an inch of her life by Dora, who it transpired, had ambitions of being a lady's maid and took great delight trying out her skills on Mariah.
So, as it turned out, Mariah looked ready to be presented at Court by the time she arrived downstairs.
The dress that she had paid absolutely no attention to earlier was a confection of amber chiffon and silk. It was by far the most luxurious thing Mariah had ever worn and she'd had to concentrate hard on not thinking of Brandon Haverton as the cool silk slid over her curves.
The neckline was lower than any she'd ever worn and was bordered by a row of tiny pearls that glinted in the candlelight. The satin bodice was overlaid with chiffon of a slightly brighter colour and split at the empire line of the gown, falling open to the bottom.
Dora had managed to find ivory silk slippers and matching gloves, and even an ivory fan decorated with amber coloured flowers, before pulling Mariah over to the looking glass for her to inspect herself.
The colour of the gown highlighted the gold flecks in Mariah's eyes and her russet curls, dotted with pearls that Dora had found somewhere, were piled loosely at the crown of her head with some tendrils framing her face and falling round her shoulders.
Mariah had been shocked at the transformation from a pretty but rather plain bluestocking to an elegant lady of quality. And if Dora's exclamations were anything to go by, she too was impressed.
Mariah took a steadying breath and stepped into the drawing room, her eyes seeking out the man who hours ago had made her feel like the happiest woman in the world and who now made her feel murderous.
He stood by the fireplace and for a moment Mariah's anger was frozen by the look of desolation on his face.
He stood with one arm on the mantel, gazing into the fire as if it held the answers to every secret in the world.
He looked tense and angry and, well, sad. So sad that Mariah, who only moments before had been plotting his demise, now wanted to run to him and comfort him. Which was crazy.
As she stepped further into the room a floorboard creaked beneath her foot and he spun around at the noise.
As their eyes locked Mariah felt the now familiar frisson of awareness slide through her body. Dear Lord. How could she still feel this pull toward him when he had lied to her? That he had been married to another?
She felt thoroughly ashamed of herself and her anger at him returned in spades.
His eyes raked her slowly from her toes to the top of her head and Mariah tried to ignore the flush she felt in every part of her that his eyes touched.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, his dark eyes met hers again.
"You're breathtaking," he said hoarsely.
He's a swine, Mariah she told herself desperately, do not listen to his false compliments. He's probably said that to hundreds of women.
That thought alone was enough to break the spell of desire that she was falling under, and she managed to raise a haughty brow.
"Oh really?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "As breathtaking as your wife?"
His eyes widened in shock, no doubt as much at her words as at the venomous tone in her voice. He stepped towards her.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Yes, I did. But I thought I must have misheard since I've already told you I don't have a wife."
He was stepping closer with every sentence and Mariah had to force herself not to back away from him.
"Oh yes. You have told me that. Funny then, that this" she gestured angrily to the dress she wore, "beautiful gown should belong to the lady of the house whose arrival is expected in a couple of weeks. Did you really think that I would not know about your wife when you sent one of her gowns for me to wear?"
Mariah could hear that she was shouting in a most unladylike manner but right then she didn't care if she sounded like a fishwife.
"Did you really think that if I was hiding a wife from you I would send you a dress belonging to her?" he shouted, equally loudly. He stopped in his approach and glared at her from halfway across the room instead, his fists balled at his sides.
His question took the wind out of Mariah's sails a little. It did seem rather strange that he should lie about a wife in order to seduce her only to let her borrow a gown belonging to the lady.
But then, she rationalised, she knew nothing of rakish men. Perhaps this was part of the sick little game he enjoyed.
"I don't know," she said truthfully. "Perhaps that is part of appeal for you. Perhaps you enjoy seeing unsuspecting young ladies wearing your wife's gowns. Perhaps you thought to make love to me while I was wearing it."
Mariah had never before spoken so boldly of such things, but she had no time to feel embarrassed. Not when she was so furious with him. Her own fists were curled with the force of her emotion but she wrapped her arms around herself, holding tight to her fury, wrapping it around herself so that she did not feel the hurt that was trying to make itself known.
"You have quite the imagination, Mariah."
"And you have quite a nerve," she shouted.