The Debutante's Ruse. Linda Skye

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The Debutante's Ruse - Linda Skye


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Chinese maid wringing her hands in worry—and to hear impatient knocking at her door.

      “Isabella, dear sister,” Arthur called through the ornate doors to her rooms, “Aren’t you ready yet?”

      Isabella fought to school her ragged breathing. “Brother, please. One mustn’t rush a lady. Give me but a moment.”

      “A moment, then.” There was a dull thud as he leaned against the closed doors. “I shall escort you to the ball. Do not make me stand here overly long, sister.”

      “Miss Isabella,” the maid whispered in heavily accented English, “Your honored father and brother are not pleased by your absence at the ball.”

      “And I am even less pleased with them, Jia Li,” she huffed, “They plan to sell me off through marriage.”

      At her maid’s horrified expression, Isabella dropped her eyes and began to carefully unroll her precious cargo. The silk robe spilled out in a gleaming cascade of gold, and she held it up for her maid to see. Jia-Li approached slowly with upturned palms that fluttered just inches from the lustrous fabric. She sighed.

      “The robe of the ancient Emperor of the Sun is as beautiful as they say,” she breathed in awe.

      “And it would have been completely wasted on the likes of our dear Miss Wilkinson, don’t you think, Jia-Li?”

      Isabella handed the robe to her maid, who reverently folded it and tucked it out of sight.

      “What will you do with it?” Jia-Li asked as she began to pull other fabrics from drawers.

      “I will go into Wan Chai tomorrow to sell it,” Isabella replied with a shrug. “Now, what have you picked for tonight’s ball?”

      Jia-Li pulled a dress from its resting place in her boudoir and held it up for Isabella’s approval. The scarlet dress was made of Chinese silk, and there was a depth to the shine that could not be imitated by western fabrics. Isabella nodded approvingly; it was a bold choice, just barely conforming to the fashionable silhouette of the day while completely rejecting the traditional assortment of pastel tulle ruffles that usually adorned the sleeves and bustles of summer evening gowns.

      She smiled as she shrugged off her clingy silk jumpsuit and tugged her long, black curls free. If they had all been waiting on her arrival at the party, she had better make it a spectacular sight.

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