The ugly Luna

Did he ogle?

*Polly*

When the carriage draws up before Devonshire Castle, I hop out after my mother, followed by an obedient, if morose, Fennec. We all pause at the doorway to the ballroom for a good moment after we’ve been announced, but to my utter disappointment, no one seems to notice that I am accompanied by the most elusive matrimonial catch of the year.

Not that anyone would have thought there was a possibility of catching Fennec until this very moment.

“A sad crush,” my mother says disapprovingly, surveying the floor. “The princess obviously did not prune the invitation list. I shall retire upstairs to play a round or two of piquet.”

This is a development that I have both hoped and planned for, knowing my mother hates crowded rooms. “Fennec will escort me home,” I say instantly. “I doubt he will agree to stay very long. We have to ease him into polite society.”

In fact, Fennec has already begun tugging at his neck cloth, muttering. “It’s infernally hot in here. I shall remain a half hour at the most.”

My mother takes one final look at the thronged room and departs for an upstairs sitting room, where she can play piquet with her friends all evening.

“Back up!” I hiss at Fennec, as soon as my mother is well out of sight.

“What?”

I pull him into the entrance hall. “Now that Mama’s gone, I need a moment.” I haul him down the corridor and turn in at the first open door I see, which turns out to be a nicely appointed sitting room with… thankfully… a mirror over the mantelpiece. I remove my pearls and drop them in Fennec’s pocket.

“They will ruin the line of my coat,” he protests.

“As if you care! Mama says they are worth more than most she-wolves’ dowry, so please endeavor not to lose them.”

He grimaces but gives in. Then I give the pink ruffle around my neckline a sharp tug and… as I had strategically loosened its stitches earlier that afternoon… it comes obediently away from my gown.

“I say, what are you doing?” Fennec asks, rather alarmed. “You can’t wear a bodice as low as that. You haven’t anything covering your… yourself.”

“Why can’t I? It’s not nearly as low as some she-wolves out there are wearing. And they have bosoms like ostrich eggs compared to mine. I don’t have much to show, so I might as well display what I have.”

“You are certainly doing that,” he says, his voice betraying a certain fascination.

I glance up. “It’s just a bosom, Fennec.”

He frowns, steps back, and coughs.

“A very nice one, mind,” I say, giving him a naughty smile. “Definitely one of my better features.” With one tug, the pink ruffle is stripped off my left wrist, quickly followed by that on the right. Then I pull the pins out of my carefully arranged curls and let my hair fall about my shoulders. Taking a band of copper-colored lace from my reticule, I wind it through my hair, pull it back from my forehead, and secure it on top of my head with the pins so that it won’t fall down. It forms a rather disheveled chignon, but the contrast between my hair and the copper lace is definitely interesting.

“You look different,” Fennec says, narrowing his eyes at my reflection in the glass.

“I look better,” I tell him, with the confidence of someone who has practiced hair-plus-lace twisting five times that afternoon. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Fennec is looking at my neckline again. “Who?”

“Geoffrey, my mate to be, of course!” I say. “Really, Fennec, do try to keep up.” I glance at myself in the mirror. Without the horrid pink ruffles, my gown has a certain sophistication. Plus, my breasts do look delectable, if I say so myself.

“Oh! I forgot.” I dig in my reticule and pull out a brooch that also belonged to my grandmother but is far more evocative than the pearls. It’s heavy gold, in the shape of a rose, with a garnet pendant dangling below.

“What are you doing with that?” Fennec asks. “I don’t think that sort of jewelry is meant for gowns like yours.”

“Like what?”

“Your dress is made out of that light stuff,” he says. “Practically transparent.”

“The silk net is covering a plain muslin,” I tell him. “This net is embroidered with curlicues and by far the best aspect of this wretched gown.”

He peers a little closer. “Does your mother know you aren’t wearing a chemise?”

“Of course I’m wearing a chemise!” I state untruthfully. I fasten the piece just under my bosom, attached to the ribbon circling the gown’s high waist. “Besides, my undergarments are none of your business, Fennec.”

“They are when I can see the whole line of your leg,” he says, scowling. “Your mother won’t like it.”

“Do you like it… and obviously, here I mean you as an exemplar of your s*x?”

“Must you talk like that?” he complains. But he obediently glances at my gown. I push my leg forward in such a way that its shape can be glimpsed… only glimpsed, mind you… through the silk net and its underskirt.

“It looks dashed odd,” Fennec says bluntly. “And so does that jewel you have hanging just below your bosom. People will think that you’re deliberately trying to draw attention to that area.”

“I am,” I say with satisfaction. The garnet adds a flash of color that complements my hair ribbon. What’s more, any gentlemen who miss my cleavage on the first glance will be encouraged to take another look.

Not to mention the fact that Fennec is the most handsome man at the ball and some of his allure will rub off on me. I wind my arm through his. “I’m ready to make my entrance.”

“Your mother will kill you. Or me,” he adds, even more unhappily.

“You ogled me a moment ago.”

“I did not!” He makes a fairly good stab at offended astonishment.

“Yes, you did,” I retort. “And frankly, Fennec, if you ogle, other men will as well. Let’s go back to the ballroom. I’m ready to find Geoffrey.”