Chapter Ten
In Which Plans are Made for Lord Strange’s Enticement
H arriet looked at herself in the glass and felt as if she’d drunk too much champagne. Staring back at her was a beautiful young man. Really. Beautiful. He was wearing a velvet jacket of a dark lilac, over which spilled the finest cream-colored lace. Little epaulets at the shoulders gave him form, and the jacket laced in the front in a manner which (incidentally) concealed the so-called man’s breasts.
But what Harriet kept staring at was her face. She never felt beautiful as a woman. She always felt overpowered by the huge hair styles demanded by fashion, by her panniers and multiple petticoats, by the way her corset pushed up her breasts and made them seem plumper than they were in truth.
But in a simple pair of pantaloons and a velvet jacket, with her hair pulled back in a ribbon, you could see her face.
Harriet just kept looking at it. Without all those powdered curls towering over her forehead, her face looked both delicate and strong. Her mouth was actually quite a nice shape, though she shouldn’t be the one to say so. The way the valet had colored her eyebrows showed that their arch was a graceful wing that emphasized her eyes. She’d always liked her eye color, but thought they looked faded to the same tired brown as the rest of her. But now they picked up the color of her coat, and her eyes seemed almost purple. Exotic. Utterly unlike her in every way.
The only problem was…her rear. Harriet turned around and peered back there again.
She could hardly believe that she was even contemplating walking through the door like this. Her breeches fit her body like a glove. That was one thing from the front, but when she craned her neck to see her behind, she felt palpitations coming on. Her bottom…her bottom was exposed. Very exposed.
It was round. She had a very round bottom, as it turned out. Who knew that? With all the petticoats, and panniers, she’d never given her bottom a second glance. But there it was.
She tried to think about men’s bottoms but couldn’t remember that she’d ever seen any that were quite as—as curvy as hers appeared to be.
Would everyone know the moment she walked into the dining room? If they discovered her secret, she’d have to go back to wearing a huge wig and panniers. The very idea struck ice to her backbone. She couldn’t do that yet. Not when she felt beautiful and powerful and free—for the first time in her life.
Harriet pulled back her shoulders. If anyone suggested she was a woman, she would deny it with her last breath. She hesitated for one moment, wondering whether to add a bit more padding down there, in front.
She couldn’t bring an image of the front of a man’s breeches to mind either. Had she ever really looked at a man’s body?
Apparently not. Likely it was better to be discreet about the size of her pizzle, then, at least until she had a chance to investigate male breeches.
She marched out of her room, hesitating when she reached the top of the stairs and realized that Lord Strange was lounging at the bottom, almost as if he were waiting for her.
Of course he wasn’t waiting for her. He probably greeted all his guests there. He had remarkably broad shoulders for a man who was so lean through the hips. What she’d really like to see was his bottom, but he was leaning against the railing, staring intently at a sheet of foolscap.
She walked down the stairs as solidly as she could, squaring her shoulders. At the bottom, she swept an acceptable bow, flourishing a hand before her forward knee, just as Villiers had taught her.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said, deepening her voice.
Lord Strange looked up. “Mr. Cope.” He folded the sheet.
“If you’ll point the direction to your drawing room, I’ll join your other guests.” She could hear a clatter of laughter and voices coming from the other end of the corridor.
“I’ll escort you,” he said, looking irritated for some reason. But he didn’t look as if he suspected her of being a woman, so Harriet felt a surge of triumph. She automatically reached out to take his arm, and then quickly dropped her hand. Thankfully, he didn’t see her error as he was tucking the paper away in his waistcoat pocket.