Only the fear that he might indeed mean what he said kept her from doing so. She dressed in a pale blue muslin gown that left her arms and throat bare, for the day had been rather hot. She brushed her hair till it shone, then left it loose and flowing, securing it away from her forehead with a ribbon that was slightly frayed at the ends. Smoothing her skirts, she critically examined her reflection in the mirror. A dozen doubts suddenly crowded her mind. Would he think her gown dowdy and old? No doubt the women in London whom he’d favored had dressed in the height of fashion, she thought wistfully. No doubt they were sophisticated and worldly. All at once she felt wholly inadequate. Worldly she was not, nor was she sophisticated—she was far too practical. As if to prove it, she reminded herself that a new gown was an extravagance she could not afford. There were far more pressing matters to attend to—like food. And somehow, she must find a way to get Emily to London. Impatiently she chided herself.
