voce, “What are you up to, miss? You have the devil in your eyes.”
“Not the devil, surely.” Beatrice did not have to pretend insult. “I am only curious about the guests we will be meeting this evening.”
“I have worked as a lady’s maid for longer than you have been alive, and I will go immediately to your father if you do anything to upset your sister or behave in a way that would endanger her Season.”
“I never would, Darwell. Never.” She was angry now, and offended by Darwell’s harsh criticism.
“Very well, miss. Perhaps I have overreacted.”
Her contrition lasted a mere second. “Sit and let me do your hair.” The brusque Darwell was back. “What do you think of the dress I put out for you?”
“It’s quite nice, thank you,” Beatrice said dutifully, as though the maid had a direct link to the countess and her seamstress.
“Flounces would not suit you at all.”
“Really?” How had the woman guessed that she wanted flounces?
“No, miss. You do not have the height for them. The simple braid trim is all you need. You may be short, miss, but you are beautifully proportioned.”
“Thank you,” she said, surprised at the compliment. She wondered if Lord Jess had noticed her proportions.
Darwell left but came back momentarily with a wet cloth.
“Lie down on this chaise and put this compress on your face, not just your eyes, and try to rest. Forget all about the intrigues here.”
Beatrice nodded and lay back on the chaise, as directed, touched by Darwell’s remorse. The cloth was dampened with more than water. It smelled of lavender and perhaps chamomile and was almost as comforting as Mama’s hand on her brow. She did doze but she had a strange dream. In it, Artemis walked through a hallway, her nose buried in a book. She was surrounded by amazing Greek statues, one of a man and the rest of women. The man’s face echoed Lord Jess’s and all of the women’s marble faces were turned toward him, some with longing expressions and others with satisfied ones. Artemis remained, engrossed in her book until the male statue stopped her progress. With an elaborate bow he spoke, “Which group do you wish to join? It is your choice, Artemis.”
Before she could decide, Beatrice woke up. She knew the answer, could feel it in her heart and lower, but was relieved that no one else could guess. She liked the idea that she was Artemis in the dream, for the goddess was strong-willed and powerful even though she had never married.
An hour and a half later Darwell pronounced them “dressed to perfection.” Hair done up, modest jewelry donned, cheeks pinched until they were pink, they were ready to make their first bow among the ton. “You are glowing, Beatrice,” her sister gushed. “Isn’t this exciting?” She paused, then added, “And terrifying at the same time.”
“Concentrate on the idea that this is but practice for the Season with a group of the countess’s friends. How can they be anything but lovely?”
The countess herself came to collect them, fussing over their gowns and general appearance amid their thanks for the perfumes.
While the countess adjusted one of the flowers in Ceci’s hair, Darwell whispered, “Hold your head up, Miss Beatrice, and watch out for your sister. That will keep you out of mischief.”
Beatrice took the chivvying with a firm nod and descended the steps to join the party for the second time that day.
Chapter Five
JESS DID NOT intend to be the last to join the party, but his valet had dawdled and insisted on shaving him, and then ruined three lengths of linen tying his cravat.
“Who the hell are you trying to impress, Callan? None of the gentlemen here need a new valet.”
“Yes, my lord.” Those were his three favorite words. Followed by “Thank you, my lord” on the rare occasions when he was paid on time.
“Begone. You will be late to the servants’ table.”
“Yes, my lord,” Callan said, ignoring the order and giving a final brush to the dark blue coat that was Jess’s favorite.
With Callan’s directions he found the Long Porch easily enough, following the sound of laughter as it echoed down the corridor.
He had no idea whether the countess favored a structured sort of house party or if they would be left to find their own entertainment. Destry and Belmont could be counted on for a challenging game of cards even if Belmont did prefer more modest stakes than he did.
Were any of the ladies so inclined? The