Rachel kept her smile in place, and strolled away, with what she hoped was casual assurance, towards the doors, but once outside the cold air against her hot face brought a flush of anxiety to her cheeks. She hoped Carl wouldn’t think she was forward. She had never done anything like this before. Somehow, since meeting Jake Allan, she had done a lot of things she had never done before.
DELLA dressed with extra care for her dinner party. Her gown of oyster pink chiffon floated about her plump figure with a flattering lack of definition, and the jewels that surrounded her neck, and hung with such vulgarity from her ears and fingers, denoted a richness seldom seen at the Tor Court. Her coiffure must be right, too, and Rachel’s fingers were aching by the time she had twisted and coaxed Della’s coarse hair into a becoming style.
‘You really are getting rather good,’ Della complimented her grudgingly when she had finished, turning her head this way and that to view the style from all angles.
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