With each pull from the back, the emerald-green material stretched tight across the front—too tight. “Enough, Alice. Unfasten it and bring me the peach gown. It is looser.” “Yes, Your Grace.” Grace stepped out of her gown and studied herself in the mirror while Alice went for the next gown. She was only in her fourth month, and already she’d grown so much that hardly any of her clothes fit. Why couldn’t she be like Caroline? Her babe would be delivered in less than two months, and only now was she forced to go into confinement. Grace would be lucky to last another two weeks. “You’re going to be late.” Vincent’s voice interrupted her from the door that separated their two bedrooms, and she turned. “Do you want to stay home, Grace?” Grace looked at him leaning casually against the door frame. He was so handsome it stole her breath. “No. This is Caroline’s last evening out before her confinement. I promised her we’d attend the opera with her and Wedgewood.”
