Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Four

Regan had forgotten how something as innocuous as dressing for dinner could transform into a vast production.

For the last seven years, there had never been anyone to impress. Katharine, of course, and Jack and Maria when they were old enough to sit and eat at a table. And for the last few months, Aunt Agnes had joined them on occasion, when she could be persuaded to leave her rooms and venture into the parts of the house the rest of the family frequented. Most evenings, it hadn't been enough to bother with the dining room at all, Regan sometimes eating in the nursery or simply tasking the servants with setting the small table in what became the breakfast room.

For those meals, Regan never bothered to change into a different gown or give herself a more elaborate hairstyle. Most of the time, she wouldn't even see her maid until bedtime, and then only once more in the morning when it was time to dress for the day. But as soon as Regan and her daughter returned upstairs after tea, their maids stood waiting for them, ready to pour baths and apply all manner of perfumes and powders and creams, and all of that even before they'd put on another stitch of clothing.

Regan attempted to wave Molly away at every turn, but her maid would not be put off so easily.

"Will you have the bronze silk, m'lady? Or the green?"

The two dresses had been draped across her bed, the better for Regan to look over them and decide. But it had been seven years since she'd needed to think about what to wear or which color would suit her best. "Oh, the bronze, I suppose," she said, and reached her arms up as Molly gathered the gown and helped slip it on over her head.

Regan glanced at herself in the looking glass, while Molly stood behind her, adjusting her stays before she tackled the row of minute, silk-covered buttons that fastened up the back.

"It does cut rather low, don't you think?" Regan drew in a deep breath and watched the tops of her breasts swell up above the edge of the neckline. "Oh, dear. I don't remember it being quite so revealing when I last had it fitted. Do you think they made a mistake while they were finishing it? Perhaps made it for someone a bit..." She inhaled again, and nearly gulped at the amount of flesh on display. "... smaller?"

"I think it fits you beautifully, m'lady," Molly said as she fussed over the last two buttons. "And it is how all the ladies are wearing their gowns now, cut quite low and all. Why, I even heard tell of ladies sponging down their dresses with water, so the fabric will cling to their skin and they'll look as stark naked as the day they were born."

"Well." Regan swallowed and placed a hand over her cleavage. Had her bosom always been so full? Why, she remembered being Katharine's age and wishing for a fuller figure to fill out all the gowns made for her during her first season. But that had been twenty years and three children ago. No doubt if she tried to slip into the gown she'd worn on her wedding day, she'd split the seams from shoulder to shin. "If I ever request that you douse me with water before going downstairs to dinner, I ask that you disregard me completely."

"Yes, m'lady," Molly replied, her prim mouth quirking with amusement.

"And fetch a fichu, if you will." She gestured towards her wardrobe. "The embroidered netting, please. I cannot be seen with all this... this skin on display."

As Regan finished tucking the delicate lace edge of the fichu into place around her collar, there was a knock on the door separating her room from Katharine's.

"Come in," Regan said, just as Molly reached up and repinned an errant curl that had begun to slip out of place.

Katharine slipped into the bedroom, clad in a gown of cream-colored silk trimmed with pink rosettes. The gown accentuated the black of her hair and dark blue of her eyes, while her fair skin glowed an even paler shade than the dress itself.