Rachel unpinned her shortgown and carefully set it aside. Then she stepped out of her skirts and added them to the neatly folded pile. Next she reached back and loosened her stays, just enough to wiggle out of them without taking the trouble to unlace them. Unlike Miss Sarah, she had no servants to help her dress in the morning.
That left her in her shift and stockings. The shift was thick linen; she cringed a little, wishing she had a light cotton chemise such as Miss Sarah wore. But this, at least, was a perfect night shift; along with the wool stockings and the heavy wool blankets, it would keep her warm even when the fire burned down to coals.
She sighed as she crawled into her bed, wondering why her thoughts constantly strayed to Miss Sarah—why she found herself wondering about her evening toilette and wishing that she had the honor of overseeing it. Was her lady maid just now unlacing her? Was she standing there in that ridiculously thin chemise of hers, twirling her dark hair in her fingers as she stared at herself in the mirror? Were her lips set in that sly, engaging smile of hers?
Rachel had never seen her bestow that smile upon her betrothed. Was it too much to hope that Miss Sarah reserved it just for her? But if so, what did she mean by it? One of Rachel’s hands strayed toward her breast while the other—
No. These thoughts must stop. That smile meant nothing but a tribute to the times when they had played together as children.
Rachel sighed and hugged her night shift closer to her, wishing it were as enticing as Miss Sarah's smile.
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