I knew your secret.â
âMy secret, maâam?â
âYour beauty secret,â said the duchess. âMiss Tinsley tells me that you use nothing but Milk and Roses. I cannot believe it. Why, your skin is perfect. â
Celia looked back at her, smiling faintly. âThank you, Your Grace. I do have a little secret, as it happens.â
âI knew it!â Lucasta exclaimed in triumph. âI knew it was not all down to Milk and Roses.â
âItâs very good, whatever it is,â said the duchess.
âThank you, Your Grace. It is good. Better than anything you will find on the market. I daresay, itâs like nothing youâve ever tried before,â she added.
âHow do you know what Iâve tried before?â Lucasta asked sourly.
âIt goes on quite invisible, and it wonât rub off.â
âMy dear, that is impossible,â declared the duchess.
âAre you wearing it now?â Lucasta demanded.
âI am never without it,â Celia replied.
âAnd it wonât rub off?â Lucasta asked.
âNo. You may try, if you like,â Celia invited her.
Rather than risk her gloves, Lucasta took out her handkerchief and drew it firmly across Celiaâs cheek. To her amazement, the white cambric came away quite clean.
âI told you,â said Celia, smiling.
âGood heavens!â cried the duchess with great eagerness. âI should not have thought it possible. How does it feel on the face?â She patted her own cheeks rapidly.
âLike air, maâam. I donât even know itâs there until I look in the mirror.â
Rising from her seat, the duchess moved closer in. Opening her lorgnette, she scrutinized Celiaâs face minutely and with magnification. âI vow!â she breathed. ââTis quite undetectable! And it doesnât collect at the corners of your mouth? It does not dry out and crack?â
âOh no, maâam, never. I would not like that at all!â
âIf it does all you say, one must have it,â said the duchess. âWhat is it called?â
Celia was now enjoying herself. âNatureâs Bloom, maâam,â she said, opening her new fan. Of tortoiseshell, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, it was really quite beautiful and must have been expensive.
For skin like St. Lysâs, Lucasta would gladly have sold her immortal soul. âWhere can I get it?â she cried.
âIâm sorry, Miss Tinsley,â Celia told her. âItâs not available to the public.â
âNonsense!â Lucasta said angrily. âWho makes it?â
Celia smiled. âIts creator is in heaven. When my supply runs out, âtis gone forever.â
âNonsense,â snapped Lucasta. âEven if the man is dead, he must have left his formula behind. There must be some way to make more Natureâs Bloom. Where did you purchase it?â
ââTwas a gift,â Celia replied, âfrom the Creator himself. He made it for me especially.â
âThen I demand that you sell me your supply. Name your price!â Lucasta commanded.
Fitzclarence could take no more of the joke, and laughed aloud. Looking around in amazement, the duchess saw that Dorian was also laughing. All at once, the duchess realized that St. Lys had been fooling. As disappointed as she was to realize that there was no invisible cosmetic that carried away all oneâs flaws and never wore off, she accepted the joke with good grace, and managed to laugh at her own folly.
âYou should not get an old womanâs hopes up like that,â she chided Celia, wagging her finger. âNatureâs Bloom, indeed! Better than anything on the market! Oh! If only it could be bottled. I for one would bathe in it.â
Lucasta was the last to get the joke, and the only one unamused.
âHow dare you mock me!â she cried, her face red. Her hand shot out and she slapped Celia hard across
Mina Carter, J.William Mitchell