He was gone and would never hurt her or her mother again. That was all that mattered.
Still, she shivered as memories flooded her. Would the events that had followed ever fade from her mind?
Sally’s lips firmed as she looked between Harriet’s scarred chest and the ballgown. “Let us get you dressed,” was all she said.
A short time later, after Sally had secured the dress, and Harriet sat before the dressing table while the maid arranged her hair, Harriet studied the neckline of her gown, wishing it were different. Wishing she were different.
She closed her eyes and gave herself a mental shake. Nothing could be done to change what had happened.
Unfortunately, little could be done to change her future either. Joseph would be disgusted if he ever saw her scars. But if he learned what she had done afterward, he would truly be repulsed.
Though her mother continually insisted that no one needed to know, and they could keep pretending nothing had occurred, Harriet couldn’t imagine marrying and keeping her secret. What sort of marriage would she have if it wasn’t founded on trust?
“You look beautiful, my lady.”
“Thank you.” The gown was one she’d worn before but liked. It was an emerald green with a pleated ruffle of the same color around the hem. Gold cord was sewn into swirls along the bodice. The bustle fell in layers in a flattering cascade down the back. She was careful not to dwell on the high neck in the mirror, reminding herself that she’d much rather cover the scars than show them to the world and be viewed with pity and disgust.
Sally twisted strands of her hair before drawing it back into a chignon high on her head then winding a green ribbon through it that matched her gown. Next, she tucked tiny white flowers in the chignon.
A knock sounded at her door, and the maid secured her hair then stepped away to open it.
“Are you ready, Harriet?” Frances asked as she swept into the room. “Oh, you look lovely.”
“So do you.” Harriet rose from the bench to face her friend. “What a beautiful gown.”
Frances smoothed her white-gloved hands along the front of the rose gown with cream lace trim. Rows and rows of ruffles made her look like a princess, as did the necklace she wore.
“That’s gorgeous,” Harriet said as she drew closer to admire the oval ruby surrounded by small diamonds.
“Thank you.” She glanced down at it with a smile. “A gift from my parents.”
“How special.”
Frances studied Harriet’s gown, her brow puckering. “Are you certain you don’t want to try a gown with a lower neckline? I’m sure I have one you can borrow.”
Harriet’s heart ached at the question. She knew her friends noticed that she always wore modest gowns, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain why. Even mentioning the scars brought forth memories that threatened to swamp her with fear.
“Not this evening.” She managed a smile.
One look at Frances’ expression suggested she’d been less than convincing.
Unwilling to talk about it, especially now, Harriet looped her arm through Frances’ and turned toward the door. “Do you think the guests have started to arrive?”
The neighboring gentry and other affluent people from nearby towns had been invited to the ball. The moment they stepped out of the room, the sounds of the small orchestra warming up could be heard, echoing through the house.
“They should begin arriving soon. Father asked us to join him and Mother in the reception room beforehand.”
Relieved she’d turned away Frances’ attention from her gown, Harriet smiled. “Who do you hope to dance with first?” she whispered as they walked down the stairs.
“As long as I’m asked to dance, it doesn’t matter,” she replied with a giggle. “The gentlemen here have all been very kind, don’t you think?”
“Yes, they have.” But there was only one man with whom Harriet wanted to dance—Joseph. Doing so with anyone else would fade in comparison.
At times like this, Harriet had to wonder if Frances truly liked Joseph or if she simply liked the idea of having a secrettendrefor someone. She hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know him. While her shyness was obviously difficult to manage, wouldn’t her desire to become better acquainted overcome it?
Harriet pushed away her doubt. That wasn’t for her to decide. Who was Harriet to know how Frances felt when she would be loath to explain her own feelings?
“There you are.” Mr. Melbourne greeted them with a broad smile as they entered the small reception room a short distance from the ballroom. “Don’t you both look lovely?”