“I am late,” she said, “you must forgive me. My gown had to be altered a little.”
He realised in surprise that she looked extraordinarily pretty in a gown of spangled gauze caught up with bunches of pink flowers, which were echoed by a pink sash round her tiny waist. There were flowers too nestling in the low bodice.
“A new dress,” he exclaimed.
“Yes indeed. It has come from Bond Street this very moment. I did so want you to see me looking respectable for a change.”
“I think ‘respectable’ is hardly the right word,” the Marquis said, his eyes twinkling.
Perdita looked down at her décolletage with an anxious air and put her hands up to it as if protectively.
“Is it too low?” she asked. “I was afraid it was somewhat outrageous, but Mrs. Jenson’s niece assured me that it is the very late
