It was a thing of beauty. They had left the background white, and decorated it with gilded lines and swirls in a delicate filigree. Lace trimmed the top and side, attached behind the mask, and the edge was trimmed all around with tiny paste jewels that caught the light and sparkled. Arial stared at it, entranced.

Her silence made Viv anxious. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” Why had it never occurred to her to adorn the mask, beyond that first failed attempt to mimic a face? She sat back down on the chair in front of the mirror and held the golden concoction up in front of her every-day blank white half-face. The transformation was astounding. Instead of the familiar half-person, half-monster she was used to seeing reflected, the woman in the mirror before her was fey, mysterious, and attractive.

She gazed for a long moment before the nervous fidgeting of the girls caught her attention. They were looking over her shoulder, their expressions saying, as clear as words, that they were waiting on her judgement.

As she turned to face them, Rose blurted, “We could have done better if we had had longer.” Viv spoke at the same time. “We could make one for each of your gowns, Arial. If you would like.”

“I would like,” Arial assured them. For her soon-to-be husband, as well as for herself. She could do nothing about her unfashionable curves except make the best of them, which her dressmaker had done. Peter would not need to blush for her appearance in that regard.

But faced with the ugly expanse of white where her face should be, people did not see her figure or her clothes. People would still stare, she knew. But perhaps in wonder rather than disgust. It was certainly worth a try.

There was another knock on the door. Nancy crossed the room to open it part way, and slipped outside to speak to the person in the passage. Arial, meanwhile, put the gold mask down, with some reluctance, and reached for the box of ribbons in her bottom drawer. Sure enough, as she remembered, the box contained ribbons in the colors of the girls’ dresses—a light blue for Viv and green for Rose.

“A gift from me to you, to wear in your hair today,” she told them.

Nancy returned as Clara was tying Rose’s ribbon and Miss Pettigrew Viv’s. “Lord Ransome has arrived, my lady, and is changing for the wedding. He will be fifteen minutes, Mr. Barlowe says. Mr. Richards and the vicar are in the parlor, and Mr. Barlowe is having refreshments served. Lord Ransome’s friend is expected shortly.”

“Thank you, Nancy. Will you finish my hair, please? Then you can help me with my mask, and we can go down.”

Nancy held out a flat leather-bound box. “My lord asks that you wear these, my lady. They were his mother’s.”

Arial took and opened the box, a lump coming into her throat. The best she had expected from this marriage of convenience was politeness and tolerance. Instead, she had two new sisters and now this. His mother’s jewelry. Even when he’d proclaimed that he wanted more than a mere civil arrangement, she had not expected the total acceptance that this implied.

She was stepping into his mother’s place as Viscountess Ransome, and—was it too much to assume? —as mother of the next viscount. That is what these pretty pearl and diamond adornments said to her. “Look how well this goes with your mask,” she told the girls, showing them the set.

“Right, then, my lady,” said Nancy, briskly. “We’ll have to rearrange the hair a little to fit the tiara.”

Miss Pettigrew suggested leaving, but Arial insisted she wanted her sisters to stay with her and walk down with her when she was ready. It took only a few minutes to fix the tiara into her hair, and to put on the necklace, wrapped three times around her neck and fastened with the brooch so that a loop dropped towards the cleft between her breasts.

Arial touched the earrings in their box. “How will I wear these? My lobes are not pierced.”

“I have an idea, my lady.” Nancy found a couple of slender ribbons and threaded an earring on to one before using it to tie around the ear on Arial’s good side. A pale peach, the ribbon was near invisible against her skin.

“We’ll do the other and the mask behind the dressing screen,” Arial decided, and led the way. When she stepped out, Nancy beaming behind her, the delight in the gazes of the two girls was heartening. Clara wiped away a tear, as she said, “My dear, you are so beautiful.”

“You look like a fairy princess,” Viv asserted.

Arial reserved judgement. She had always thought fairies to be frail little creatures, and no-one had ever thought her frail, even before the fire. But when she stepped in front of the mirror, she had to concede there was much to be said for Vi’s opinion. It was the gown, of course, and the jewels, and the mask. But she truly did present a gratifying appearance for her wedding. Two impossible things. She’d never thought to have a wedding. She’d never thought to know how it felt to see admiration in the eyes of others.

Would Peter, too, be pleased with how she looked?

“Let us go down,” she said.