“He’s kind, Penny. And he asked.”
Penelope’s gaze turned soft. “It’s fine for you to wish for more than that, you know.”
She didn’t. Did she?
Pippa fidgeted inside her tightly laced corset. “And ball gowns.”
Penelope allowed the change in topic. “It is a nice gown, nonetheless.”
Pippa’s gown—selected with near-fanatical excitement by Lady Needham—was a beautiful pale green gauze over white satin. Cut low and off the shoulder, the gown followed her shape through the bodice and waist before flaring into lush, full skirts that rustled when she moved. On anyone else, it would look lovely.
But on her . . . the gown made her look thinner, longer, more reedy. “It makes me look like the Ardea cinerea.”
Penelope blinked.
“A heron.”
“Nonsense. You are beautiful.”
Pippa ran her palms over the perfectly worked fabric. “Then I think it’s best I stay here and keep that illusion intact.”
Penelope chuckled. “You are postponing the inevitable.”
It was the truth.
And because it was the truth, Pippa allowed her sister to lead them down the narrow stairs to the back entrance of the ballroom, where they released Trotula onto the Dolby House grounds before inserting themselves, unnoticed, into the throngs of well-wishers, as though they’d been present for the entire time.
Her future mother-in-law found them within moments. “Philippa, my dear!” she effused, waving a fan of peacock feathers madly about her face. “Your mother said it would be just a little fête! And what a fête it is! A fête to fête my young Robert and his soon-to-be-bride!”
Pippa smiled. “And do not forget Lady Tottenham’s young James and his soon-to-be-bride.”
For a moment, it seemed that Countess of Castleton did not follow. Pippa waited. Understanding dawned, and her future mother-in-law laughed, loud and high-pitched. “Oh, of course! Your sister is lovely! As are you! Isn’t she, Robert?” She swatted the earl on his arm. “Isn’t she lovely!”
He leapt to agree. “She is! Er—you are, Lady Philippa! You are! Lovely!”
Pippa smiled. “Thank you.”
Her mother bore down upon them, the Marchioness of Needham and Dolby eager to compete for the most-excited-mother award. “Lady Castleton! Are they not the most handsome of couples!”
“So very handsome!” Lady Castleton agreed, maneuvering her son to stand close to Pippa. “You simply must dance! Everyone is desperate to see you dance!”
Pippa was virtually certain that there were only two people in the room with any interest whatsoever in watching them dance. In fact, anyone who had ever seen Pippa dance knew not to expect much in the way of grace or skill, and her experience with Castleton indicated similar failings on his part. But, unfortunately, the two in question were mothers. And unavoidable.
And, dancing would limit the number of exclamations in her proximity by a good amount.
She smiled up at her fiancé. “It seems we are required to dance, my lord.”
“Right! Right!” Castleton leapt to attention, clicking his heels together and giving her a small bow. “Would you afford me the very great honor of a dance, my lady?”
Pippa resisted the urge to laugh at the formality of the question and instead took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the dance.
It was a disaster.
They all but stumbled across the floor, creating a devastating spectacle of themselves. When they were together, they trod on each other’s toes and tripped over each other’s feet—at one point, he actually clutched her to him, having lost his balance. And when they were apart, they tripped over their own feet.
When he was not counting his steps to keep time with the orchestra, Castleton kept up conversation by fairly bellowing across the dance floor.
The couples nearby did their best not to stare, but Pippa had to admit, it was near impossible when Castleton announced from ten feet away on the opposite side of the line, “Oh! I nearly forgot to tell you! I’ve a new bitch!”
He was discussing his dogs, of course—a topic in which they had a shared interest—but Pippa imagined it was something of a shock to Louisa Holbrooke when Castleton hurled the announcement right over her perfectly coiffed head.
Pippa could not help it. She began to snicker, drawing a strange look from her own partner. She lifted a hand to hide her twitching lips when Castleton added, “She’s a beauty! Brindled fur! Brown and yellow . . . yellow like yours!”
Eyes around them went wide at the comparison of her blond hair to the golden fur of Castleton’s most recent four-legged acquisition. And that’s when the snicker became a laugh. It was, after all, the strangest—and loudest—conversation she’d ever had while dancing.