She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. " Some order. And here against a wall were the plumtrees. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. ‘We’ll have you right out of the way, just in case. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him.
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