Lady Lavinia cast aside her déshabillé and stood up.
"Oh, 'tis no matter—I am ready for my gown, Louisa."
There came more knocking at the door, and this time it was Carstares who rose to open it.
There entered Markham, heavily handsome in crimson and gold, and Lovelace, his opposite, fair and delicately pretty in palest blue and silver. As usual, he wore his loose wig, and in it sparkled three sapphire pins.
He made my lady a marvellous leg.
"I am prostrated by your beauty, fairest!"
Sir Gregory was eyeing Lavinia's white slippers through his quizzing glass.
"Jewelled heels, 'pon my soul!" he drawled.
She pirouetted gracefully, her feet flashing as they caught the light.
"Was it not well thought on?" she demanded. "But I must not waste time—the dress! Now, Markham—now Harry—you will see the creation!"