When she saw the ball gown Douglas picked out for her to wear the next evening, Madame Jordan nodding enthusiastically, her heart thrummed with excitement and pleasure. It was glorious, tulle over white satin with two lines of exquisite embroidery from the waist down the skirt to the hem, suggesting an open robe.

"Thank God you look very fine in white, Meggie," he said, looking her up and down and nodding. The sleeves were short and tight, the neckline square. There were very narrow flounces, one at the hem, the second nearly to the knees.

"It's not overdone," said Douglas, "and at last the waist is where it should be. You have a nice small waist, Meggie, and your bosom is particularly pleasant-ah, perhaps I shouldn't point that out in your hearing, but it's true, just as Madame said. Yes, this style will become you. No more schoolgirl gowns, my dear. You are now a young lady in her first Season."

Madame Jordan sighed. "Remember, my lord, when you first brought your young bride to me? What atrocious taste she had, and still has, for that matter, but she did understand the power of her magnificent bosom, and dug in her heels."

"Women always understand the power of the bosom," Douglas said, snorting. "As for my wife, she still wears her gowns cut nearly to her knees, and I don't like it any more now than I did then. Men ogle her, Nicolette. Three men could ogle her at the same time, she is so well endowed."

Madame Jordan laughed and poked his arm. "Ah, a jealous husband, isn't it delightful, my dear?"

Meggie looked from Nicolette to her uncle, getting her first glimpse of uncharted territory. "Yes, ma'am, now that I am thinking about it, why yes, it is quite delightful."

Then came a riding habit in royal blue that made Meggie want to weep it was so beautiful. "Oh goodness, Uncle Douglas, it is too fine," she whispered as she ran her fingers over the fabric that one of Madame's minions had delivered directly to Meggie's fingertips.