"These belong to the Dowager Duchess," the maid whispered reverently as she fastened the necklace around Delaney's throat. "The Duke asked for them specifically."
Delaney touched the cold stones. She felt like an impostor. She was wearing his mother's jewels. She was playing the part of the devoted cousin.
"You look like a Duchess," the maid said, stepping back to admire their handiwork.
Delaney looked in the mirror.
The woman staring back was commanding. She looked serious. She looked rich. She looked like she owned half of London. The gray mouse was gone, hidden beneath layers of velvet and gold.
"I look like a lie," Delaney thought.
But she nodded. "Thank you. You have done... miracles."
"The shoes, Miss."
Delaney stepped into the burgundy satin slippers.
"I am ready," she said.
She picked up her reticule. She didn't take her notebook. This wasn't a matchmaking mission. This was a performance.
