Read Online The Secret Life of Lady Julia by Lecia Cornwall - Free Book Online

blond hair. “Many ladies wore feathers in their hair, which made it rather difficult to see around them, and ticklish if one was not careful when he bowed to the lady’s curtsy. I think some ladies dipped their heads intentionally to torment gentlemen with those feathers. Why, one chap in our party was stabbed in the eye with a particularly long bunch of peacock plumes, and had to retire for the evening to bathe his wound.”
    “Does that count as a battle scar, since he is in the service of his country?” Julia asked.
    Stephen sniffed indignantly. “It most certainly should.”
    “And what colors were the ladies wearing?” Dorothea forged ahead. “Was one color more popular than the rest? Who wore the most shocking color?”
    Stephen’s throat bobbed, and Julia noticed a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead under his sister’s merciless grilling. “Um—many colors. White, perhaps? Pink? With colored ribbons tied here—” He delicately indicated his ribs with manly hands, pinkies outstretched, and Dorothea nudged her again, hiding a smile, obviously enjoying teasing her brother so wickedly.
    Julia felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor major. He would probably take his meals with the other gentlemen after this, and that would be a pity. If she could not see the events for herself, she was glad to have him to describe them. Stephen Ives was probably extremely eloquent when asked to describe a battle or a military maneuver.
    “What did you eat for supper, my lord?” she asked, changing the subject to one more dear to a man’s heart than feathers and frills.
    He visibly relaxed. “Oh, there was chicken, and a wide assortment of pies—and snails done in garlic and butter,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he embraced the topic. He held up a hand at Dorothea’s grimace. “Snails are called escargot here, and they are quite delicious, as were the frog’s legs—and there was a marvelous dish of apples in cinnamon and cream, and a selection of cheeses, and the cakes . . .” He rolled his eyes in rapture, looking at them with boyish delight.
    Dorothea swatted her brother’s arm gently. “Snails? You can remember how the snails were dressed for dinner, yet you cannot recall a single detail of how people were adorned?”
    He grinned. “I wore my uniform, and so did many other gentleman. I can quote you the ranks and regiments present, if you wish.”
    “Yes, yes— of course you and every other military gentleman cut a dash as always, and the officers put the men in ordinary evening wear to shame, but what of the ladies’ hair styles?” Dorothea demanded, nibbling on the corner of the same bit of toast she’d been worrying at for the past half hour. She hadn’t touched the rest of her breakfast, Julia noted.
    Stephen’s smile fell once again, and he raised his hands above his head and wiggled his fingers like grass in the wind. “Tall,” he said. “Tied up with, um, ribbons, a few with jewels?” He shot a pleading look at Julia as Dorothea sighed.
    “You are dreadful, Stephen. Thanks to you, I have a picture in my mind of sheep wearing feathers on their heads and dancing with handsome officers in uniform,” she quipped. “Why, I feel as I might have been there myself!”
    Julia laughed before she could stop herself, and Stephen looked at her, trying not to laugh himself. “My sister is a great wit.” He set his fork down carefully. “You will have to see for yourself, Doe, if my descriptions do not satisfy you. There is a performance at the opera tonight. It wouldn’t be too taxing, and you could see firsthand what the ladies are wearing.”
    Dorothea’s mirth faded. “No, I couldn’t. You could take Julia.”
    Julia’s throat closed in shock at the suggestion. It would hardly be proper for a diplomat to escort his sister’s paid companion to an official event. Stephen Ives studied his fingers, and an awkward silence fell over the table.
    “Was there anyone of particular note in