Her cousin sat at the dressing table, surrounded by bottles of perfume, hair combs and strands of beads while a maid dressed her hair into artful golden curls.“Lily! Do come in.” Isabelle sprang up and embraced her.“My nerves are all aflutter. This is my first real ball, you know. I need your steadying influence, not to mention your wonderful eye for color.”“Oh, Miss, see what you’ve done.” The maid waved the curling tongs in distress, but Isabelle only laughed.“I have every faith that you can set my hair to rights in a twinkling, Lucy. You have such a skilled touch. But, Lily, how fine you look.” Isabelle skipped back and gave her an approving glance. “That neckline is rather daring—is it the current mode?”“Mother’s modiste says, ‘Enough plunge to imply naughtiness without actually committing to it.’” Lily glanced down at her tightly fitted bodice, trimmed with dark green satin ribbon.“I think she has quite succeeded. You will make heads turn tonight.
