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Summary
He’d regretted it as he’d struggled with the petticoat, and when the hard corset had been cinched tighter, inch by inch. He’d silently taken back his earlier optimism as he’d sat there and had his hair brushed and trimmed, lips painted, eyelashes darkened and eyebrows plucked into soft crescents. By the time the large bow around the high neck of his shirt had been done up, he’d wanted the earth to open up and swallow him.
It should have been a joke. It wasn’t.
