Page 39 of To Love a Beast

Mrs. Potter, who had moved behind the sofa, placed her hands on Callista's shoulders and gave her a reassuring rub. "This is from all of us, Miss Rosenfeld. Nothing improper about accepting a gift from a group of friends, now, is there? Mr. Griffin gave us the idea, and he covered most of the cost, but we all contributed. Mr. Lightfoot selected the style. Mr. Timens placed the order and retrieved it from the dressmaker. And I made a few alterations once I was able to compare it to your Sunday dress. Let's pop upstairs and try it on, shall we? It's only right for a lady to look her best for her birthday dinner."

Callista looked to him again, her eyes full of questions.

"Only if you want to," he said. "Dinner will taste just as delicious no matter what color you are wearing."

He offered a casual grin, one designed to hide how much he truly cared about the outcome, but he suspected he was out of practice. Either that or she could see the hope beating in his chest. For she beamed a smile at him as she finally lifted the confection of yellow chiffon out of the box and draped it across her lap.

"How could I not want to wear the most beautiful gown I've ever seen?" She turned to smile at Lightfoot and Timens as well. "Especially when all the gentlemen in attendance are decked out in their finery."

Timens sketched a bow. "You do us a great honor, miss."

"You are the ones who have done me the honor." Her gaze moved about the room, halting on Everett for a long moment before moving on to land safely on Mrs. Potter. "All of you. Truly. This is the most magical birthday I've ever had."

"It's far from over, Miss Rosenfeld." Everett waited for her attention to return to him. "There's at least one more planned surprise."

"Something else? Gracious. Any more delightful surprises, and I just might expire from the excitement."

He certainly hoped not. He'd been plotting for a week about how to let her know some of what he felt for her. A lot was riding on how this evening turned out. Possibly his entire future.

Chapter 18

"Just a couple more pins . . . and voilà!" Mrs. Potter grinned triumphantly as she stepped away from Callista's dressing table.

The housekeeper had pleaded to dress Callista's hair for the evening, and Callista hadn't had the heart to refuse the request. Though had she known her friend would spend the next thirty minutes tugging and twisting her tresses into a complicated style, she might have tried a little harder.

"What do you think?"

Callista tilted her head from side to side as she peered into the dressing table mirror. "I think you are nearly as talented decorating people as you are cakes."

Mrs. Potter's mouth hung slightly agape as she struggled to find an appropriate response. Callista laughed softly. "That was a compliment, I promise. You make the most beautiful petit fours I've ever seen."

Callista looked back to her hair and admired the soft draping around her face that exposed a center part before pulling back into an elaborate twist at the crown of her head. A few wisps had been left to curl around her face and along the back of her neck.

"I should have paid better attention to what you were doing," Callista said. "I've never tried anything more complicated than the serviceable bun I always wear." With no mother to instruct her on things such as hairstyling, and with no time to pour over fashion magazines, Callista's education in the fashion department was rudimentary at best.

Pleasure bloomed on the housekeeper's face. "I'll be happy to give you a few tips later, if you'd like."

"That would be lovely." Callista rose from her chair, clad only in her underclothes. "I suppose I best get dressed. We've forced the gentlemen to wait quite a long time."

Mrs. Potter waved her hand. "Pish posh. It's good for them to wait a little. Builds up the anticipation. Can't make a grand entrance without sufficient anticipation."

Grand entrance? Oh, dear. "We're just having dinner, Mrs. Potter. This isn't one of your fancy New York balls." Thank heaven. Callista knew next to nothing about dancing or society etiquette. "I'm just a bookbinder whose kind employer threw her a birthday party."

The housekeeper stepped close and placed a motherly hand on Callista's arm. "Sweet girl, you're much more than a bookbinder. You've become a treasured part of our family. Let us spoil you a little tonight. It will bring us pleasure."

Callista surrendered with a sigh. "All right. But I really don't care for being the center of attention."

The smile Mrs. Potter offered in answer carried a rather mysterious air as she moved to the bed to collect the beautiful new gown. "Well, you best prepare yourself, for when you walk down the stairs in this dress, no one will be able to look anywhere else. Especially Mr. Griffin."

A thrill shot through her at her friend's words, though she quickly dampened the warmth rising through her midsection. Donning a pretty dress would not change the truth of who she was—a poor bookbinder's daughter with no social standing. Even if Everett did have feelings for her, his family would never approve. His mother especially, with how much she valued social prestige. Besides, Papa needed Callista. Without her help, the bindery would flounder. Family had to come first.

"Tonight is about you, my dear," Mrs. Potter said as she slid the confection of yellow chiffon and golden taffeta over Callista's head. "Tomorrow you can return to your life of bookbinding, but tonight . . ." She smoothed the fabric and turned Callista to face the full-length mirror standing near the washstand. "Tonight, you are a princess."

Callista sucked in a breath as Mrs. Potter moved behind her to do up the buttons at the back of her dress. She barely recognized the elegant creature reflecting back at her. The vee of her neckline left her throat and collarbone exposed as gathered chiffon draped across her body in Grecian style from each shoulder to the bottom of her ribcage. Another swath of gossamer fabric wrapped her waist before forming a bow at her back. Small rosettes at her shoulders connected the draped chiffon to the shiny gold taffeta of a slightly darker hue that formed the back of the bodice. Callista turned slightly to get a partial view of the back as Mrs. Potter finished the last hook. The bodice dipped in a vee along her shoulder blades, with chiffon rosettes decorating the edge. The chiffon overskirt lay in gauzy layers atop the taffeta and cascaded like a waterfall of sunshine nearly to the floor, leaving a slender border of golden taffeta exposed along the hem.

"Don't forget the gloves." Mrs. Potter held out a set of long, elegant gloves in a matching yellow hue.

"There are gloves, too?" Callista owned a small white pair she wore to church, but never had she owned a pair of dancing gloves that stretched above her elbows.