With a little less than a fortnight before the Lothgards’ ball, at which she would be presented to Society and her betrothal to Sheri officially announced, attention quickly turned to making Arcadia a bride worthy of the Zouche family—or at least one who would not humiliate them. That was how Lady Delafield framed the situation, in any event. Lady Lothgard merely swooped in to take Arcadia shopping. “You can’t know how delightful it is to have another lady in the family at last,” she said as her carriage bore them towards Bond Street. “I’ve only my husband and sons to outfit. What fun it shall be to consider the cut of a bodice rather than a frock coat.” Today, her ladyship wore a gray and pink pinstriped muslin frock and a handsome bonnet with a low crown, the brim tilted back to frame her doll-like face. The marchioness’s hand gripped the ivory handle of a cane. “Does Lady Lothgard—that is, the Dowager Lady Lothgard—not accompany you on outings?” Arcadia asked.
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