In the plain muslin gown made by the seamstress in Santander Elvina knew that she looked a neat, tidy and a rather unattractive child.
She had spent some time in front of the tiny looking glass in her cabin, trying to arrange her hair more appealingly. But it was quite useless.
In the end she put the little wreath of flowers and ribbons on it and hoped that Lady Cleone would not notice the fair parting and the little hint of gold on the waves that had begun to reappear now that the dye was wearing off.
‘So thin, so ugly,’ Elvina told herself.
Yet she knew that in her battle with Lady Cleone she had one point in her favour. Lord Wye was not on his guard against her.
She had gone to his cabin when she was ready and found him dressed except for his coat and he was tying his cravat in fro
