If she didn’t breathe she could get the skirt buttons of Diana’s riding habit fastened, but the top was proving more difficult. Hoping she could get the jacket on with two less layers, she yanked off her chemise too. Her pulse galloped frantically at the delay. Already she was late for Etienne’s riding lesson, but she hadn’t woken until the door clicked shut when Beau left the suite. If she took any more time, she might miss them. “You must put on the shirt first, my lady,” objected her maid. “It will not fit, and I cannot waste time.” Yvette scowled at the girl although it wasn’t her fault the riding habit was ill fitting. If she meant to join Beau and her son, she should be appropriately attired. So she’d borrowed the riding habit from her predecessor’s cupboard. Except Diana, now the Dowager Countess Arrington, was a tiny thing and her habit miniscule. Yvette grabbed scissors and snipped off the braces. The skirt wasn’t falling off unless she popped the buttons.
