Oh, thank the stars, a powder room! She was relieved, and then wondered if it was silly of her to have ever expected there to not be a room meant for her to change in. Was she showing off her middle class upbringing by being ignorant of how a proper ladies' bedroom was laid out? Her room at Armando's had been self-contained and hadn't included a changing room, but she had also never had a ladies' maid before — at least, not a proper one with a proper title, anyway. Maybe everything was different for wealthy married ladies, and she had no idea. There hadn't been any examples of it in Armando's house, after all, and she could hardly use her mother (who had ended up dead after a stint in an asylum) as a reference on that point. What if she was doing everything wrong?

"Excuse me, then," she said quickly as she grabbed the things she would need to change and ducked through the doorway. She took longer than she might have to undress, partly because the dress was complicated and she'd had a long day already, but partly because she was using the time as double-duty to reassure herself. She had been to finishing school, after all, and what was the point of that if not to come away finished? Mrs. Pendergast would not have allowed her to debut if she hadn't possessed the skills necessary to make someone a fine wife, in the upper crust of society. She wasn't making a fool of herself. All of this was normal — and Roberto loved her, and probably would have overlooked a fault or two if she had been erring already. If there were little challenges along the way, or unexpected hurdles, she would just have to learn how to overcome them, and that was all.

After finally regaining her self confidence (and assuring herself that she looked lovely in her nightgown, with her dark curls arranged just so over her shoulders), she took a deep breath and re-entered the room. "I'm ready," she said brightly, as if the awkward moment of uncertainty before had never happened.

She wasn't ready, but she didn't know that, yet.