Fiona attempted to sit as elegantly as Lady Pickering had but still had to adjust her skirts.

“Keep your legs pressed tight, dear, from waist to foot. Angle your knees a bit.” She surveyed Fiona’s movements and smiled softly. “There you are.”

“She knows how to sit,” Mrs. Tucket said with a touch of defensiveness.

Lady Pickering’s expression remained benign. “Yes, of course. Do you like to play cards, Mrs. Tucket? There is a wonderful game every Sunday afternoon. I’ll ensure you’re invited.”

Mrs. Tucket’s lids fluttered in surprise as she sat in a chair near Fiona’s end of the settee. “Thank you. I do like cards. I played every Saturday at the vicarage.” While Fiona scoured the vicar’s library. By the time she’d left Shropshire, she’d read everything in it—well, everything that interested her—at least twice. Sadly, the library had possessed only one map encompassing western England and Wales.

“Wonderful.” Lady Pickering turned her attention to Fiona. “Lord Overton told you about your presentation to Her Majesty, the Queen? The drawing room is next Thursday.”

That was in just a week. Fiona’s stomach took flight. “Yes. He said I am to have a court dress made.” She glanced toward him, seated near Lady Pickering’s end of the settee.

“Indeed. We will visit the modiste shortly.”

“Today?” As keen as she was to visit Bond Street or any shopping area, she was surprised at the speed with which everything was happening.

“A court dress is quite extravagant, Miss Wingate. Yards and yards of fabric, and there will be much embroidery. We will also need to select jewelry, but most of it I will loan to you for the occasion since you won’t need to wear anywhere near that much again.” She paused to smile. “And there will be feathers, of course.”

“Feathers? Where do those go on the gown?” Fiona tried to imagine and came up with a rather ghastly costume.

“In your hair,” Lady Pickering clarified with a smile. “The taller, the better. I know the perfect place to commission your headpiece.”

Goodness, this sounded terribly expensive. Again, Fiona looked toward the earl. Prudence sat in another chair between him and Mrs. Tucket. Like Lady Pickering, she sat very prettily, her hands clasped demurely in her lap. Fiona copied her.

As she checked her hand position, Fiona noticed a loose thread at the hem of her sleeve. She tugged it gently in the hope that it was simply loose. More thread came out of the sleeve, but it seemed to still be attached to the dress. Glancing up, she saw that Prudence was watching her. Blushing, Fiona squashed the thread between her fingers and stuffed it inside her sleeve.

“What of the rest of her wardrobe?” Mrs. Tucket asked, pursing her lips. “Or is she to wear this court gown to balls too?”

Lady Pickering smiled patiently. “Goodness, no. Wearing a court gown anywhere other than the queen’s drawing room would be highly inappropriate. Miss Wingate will need many gowns. For calling, for promenading, and, of course, for evening events such as balls and the theatre.” She blinked at Fiona. “Do you ride?”