“High waists make me look like a box.”
Marina said something in Italian to Sandra, Elspeth guessed a translation of her self-deprecating remark. Sandra responded with what sounded like disagreement.
Still smiling, Marina turned back to Elspeth. “With your lovely bosom and small waist, the shape of thirty years ago would have been perfect for you.”
“I told you,” Elspeth said miserably, afraid that her mentor might decide she was a hopeless case after all.
Marina went back to studying her. Elspeth was getting used to it. “But with some lighter materials and someone who knows what she’s doing like Sandra, we will succeed.”
“In turning a sow’s ear into a silk purse?” Elspeth asked before she could stop herself.
She expected Marina to laugh, but her hostess regarded her with a troubled frown. “Elspeth, you’re a beautiful girl, and I can show you how to make the best of yourself, but the world won’t believe that you’ve changed from a caterpillar into a butterfly until you believe it, too. I forbid you to say anything derogatory about yourself ever again.”
Discomfited, Elspeth avoided those piercing dark eyes, as she struggled to come to terms with the idea of anyone calling her beautiful. Was it possible? When she’d accepted Marina’s help, she’d harbored the modest hope that it might rescue her from fading into the background. Beautiful was an unimaginable step beyond that.
On the other hand, what did she have to lose?
“Yes, Marina,” she mumbled.
“A little more gusto, per favore, bella.” Marina carried a cheval mirror from the corner and set it before her.
In the reflection, Elspeth met uncertain brown eyes. This reminded her of the night before last, when she’d promised herself she was going to stop trailing around after Brody and take charge of her life. She angled her chin upward and surveyed the woman in the mirror.
“Yes, look, cara,” Marina said softly. “Look at yourself.”
Marina said she could be beautiful. Marina was a stylish, sophisticated woman with an artist’s eye. If she said that, perhaps it was true.
The girl reflected back was smaller than the two women ranged on either side of her. Out of her nun-like dress, even someone as self-critical as Elspeth saw that her curves weren’t plumpness, but a graceful generosity of form. Her bosom rose above the corset, firm and round and white. Her waist was small, and her hips flared above shapely legs. Thick, glossy hair flowed around her face, adding a touch of mystery to features that she’d always believed irredeemably ordinary. Now she saw large, radiant eyes and a full-lipped mouth.
She didn’t resemble her mother or her spectacular siblings. The dark coloring came from her father’s side of the family. But nor did she look like a woman the world should ignore either. She looked…voluptuous.
A tentative smile lengthened her lips. Perhaps Marina was right, and there was something here to work with.
Approval lit Marina’s black eyes, as she watch
ed Elspeth’s face brighten with new vitality. “Si, cara, si. Now you see what I see, and you know we’ll succeed.” She turned to Sandra with a torrent of liquid Italian, before she stepped back with a determined expression. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 6
As the day went on, Brody became restless and bored and out of sorts. The weather had worsened, confining everyone to the castle. He’d wandered the corridors looking for Elspeth, but despite her promise last night, she proved elusive. He’d seen her at breakfast—which made another early morning worthwhile—but Diarmid had arrived a few minutes after he did and proved a deterrent to flirting.
When he teased her last night, she’d been such a delightful mixture of confusion and gratification. He looked forward to teasing her again.
If he could ever bloody find her.
By the time everyone gathered to go into dinner, frustration had him ready to climb the walls. Where the devil was Elspeth hiding? Was she avoiding him? He’d swear she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He hadn’t missed her shy pleasure in his attentions, or the way her eyes brightened when she saw him.
In a right royal sulk, he prowled into the crowded drawing room. Even before he entered, he heard the buzz of excited chatter. Once he stepped inside, he realized why. Without notice, Marina’s father Ugolino had arrived from Italy.
And Ugolino hadn’t shown up alone. At his side was a comfortably plump, middle-aged woman with a kind face and dark hair streaked with gray. Was it possible Ugolino had married again? He wouldn’t bring a mistress here, not to a family party. A quick glance around the room told him that Elspeth wasn’t downstairs yet. But everyone else was agog to hear Ugolino’s news.
Brody might be preoccupied with his own selfish concerns, but even he understood that a new stepmother showing up announced would be a shock to Marina. He glanced across to see how she took the news.
“Such weather, figlia mia. Such weather.” Ugolino and the lady must have arrived just that minute. He was taking off his snowy greatcoat and passing it to one of the servants. Beneath, his stout form was clad in the height of fashion. “Why couldn’t you marry a man who lives in the south of France?”
“Nobody from the south of France asked me, Papa,” Marina said, stepping up to hug her father. “You didn’t tell us you were coming.”
Ugolino shrugged with his usual careless charm. He’d spent years crisscrossing Italy, acting as his daughter’s chaperone while she established her artistic career. Since her marriage, he’d become her agent in Florence, where he had great success selling his daughter’s paintings to rich young men doing the Grand Tour. “Per pietà, I was sitting at home by my fireside missing you, so I decided to give you a surprise.”