Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for A Season for Second Chances
- Also by Jenny Bayliss
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Discussion Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
It was floor-length satin with a fishtail bottom, which complemented her curvy figure, and a chaste Audrey Hepburn neckline. The rich honey-gold color was warm against her pale skin and pink cheeks and picked out the gold streaks in her hair.
She’d brought a choice of evening dresses with her: a teal velvet number that pushed her boobs up impressively high, a navy-blue A-line chiffon gown with long lace sleeves, and an emerald-green dress with a brocade bodice. It would be a miracle if she made it through the week without spilling gravy down the front of at least one of them. She wondered why no one had invented a glamourous socially acceptable bib for eating dinner in evening wear.
Dev knocked on the door to escort Nory and Ameerah down to the drawing room. He looked ethereal in his tuxedo, but then he was a model.
“You’re so good-looking, it’s like you’re not real,” Nory said as she took his other arm and the three of them descended the stairs. Nory paid particular attention to not tumble down ahead of them in her inadvisably high-heeled shoes. For some people a stiletto heel added a level of grace to the way they moved. In Nory’s case they made her walk as though she had a bike between her legs.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended,” said Dev, smiling.
“Oh, be flattered, I meant it in the best way.” She stumbled slightly, but Dev steadied her. He’d probably had lots of practice with stilted shoes on the catwalk. “I’ve never seen a person look quite so perfect without a filter.”
The tinkle of music and the hum of voices behind the heavy door met them on the last few stairs, and Nory felt her stomach twist with nerves. She tried to take a steadying breath, but her dress seams creaked under the strain.
As they entered the drawing room, Nory had the sense that she was stepping into a bygone era. The drawing room walls were covered in a repeating pattern of baroque flowers in blue and white. Family portraits hung from the picture rails in ornate golden frames. The dark autumnal hues favored by seventeenth-century painters looked especially moody against the bright walls and the two pale marble fireplaces at either end of the room.
Charles was seated at the grand piano in the corner, idly playing “I Can Give You the Starlight” by Ivor Novello—he always was annoyingly musical—while chatting with Pippa, who was leaning one bony hip against the shiny black wood. She looked chic in a black bias-cut evening dress that showcased her pale skin and ginger hair.