Ruth said a little breathlessly behind Hollis.
“No,” Hollis said. “Corsets are confining. They squeeze the air from me! Why must women be so confined?”
“Gentlemen wear them, too,” Ruth said breathlessly.
“But not all of them. I think it very patriarchal, constraining us like that. We are people, too, Ruth! We need to be free! I begged Caro to let the gown out an inch or two, but she wouldn’t hear of it,” Hollis complained, and drew a deeper breath with the hope of assisting Ruth.
“Lady Caroline is very careful with her appearance,” Ruth said. “There!” She triumphantly announced the last button fastened.
“Thank you.” Hollis looked at herself in the mirror, her hands on her hips. It was not very apparent that she was stuffed into this gown like sausage into its casing, but it certainly felt that way. Was Caroline right? What she’d said that day was that she would not be part of Hollis’s “downfall.”
“My downfall? What are you talking about?” Hollis had demanded. “I’m only asking that if you insist on making a gown for me, that you make one that fits my body and not what society demands it be.”
“I mean, darling, that you’ve given up,” Caroline had complained.
Hollis had gasped. “I have not!”
“You have. You walk around this house in bare feet and with your hair down. You’re completely unreasonable about wearing a corset and have equated it with some sort of liberation from society. You talk about politics to the point that I can hardly bear it. It’s to be expected, I suppose. You lost a husband, your sister is in a foreign land, and your father is determined to move to the country. But really, Hollis, it’s too much. Just wear a corset!”
“No,” Hollis had said flatly.
Caroline had muttered under her breath.
Hollis had meant what she said about corsets and had become quite vocal among her acquaintances about her dislike of them. She had grown convinced of her argument that they were society’s way of keeping women in check. But...this gown was awfully tight.
And Caroline was right—she had lost so many loved ones in the last few years. Even Caroline, who had been a staple in her house, had moved to the country and rarely came to town these days.
She placed the flat of her palm against her belly and took a deep breath. “I might faint dead away in this.”
Ruth looked at her with some alarm.
“I won’t...but I might.” She turned to the side and eyed herself. Maybe she had given up a little. What was the point? It wasn’t as if she saw anyone other than Donovan and Ruth and Mr. Brimble.
“There is nothing to be done for it. I am locked into the blasted thing and best be on my way.” She wished Ruth a good day and went downstairs.
She stopped in what had once been her formal dining room, but was now the office of the gazette, in search of her favorite wrap. She startled poor Mr. Brimble. The old man was bent over, looking under the dining-room table that was now a very large desk, covered with gazettes in various stages of construction.
“What are you doing down there, Mr. Brimble?” Hollis asked as she picked up her wrap.
“Good morning, madam. I’m on the hunt for Buttercup. She didn’t come round for her milk this morning.”
“Have you looked in the sunroom? Yesterday, she spent the entire afternoon there watching the birds pecking about the mews.”
“Aye, that I will. Thank you, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
Hollis smiled, and with her wrap in hand, she went out. And when she did, she nearly stepped on Buttercup. “Here she is, Mr. Brimble!”
Donovan emerged from the drawing room. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves and was holding a feather duster. “Going out?”
“Yes. I mean to pay a call to Mr. Kettle and inquire about the Anna Marie.”
Donovan’s dark eyebrows rose. “Should I come along?”
“No, thank you. Poppy is coming with me. We’ve an appointment to look at the new silks that have come in from Brussels. It’s right next to a chocolate shop.”
Donovan walked to the foyer and retrieved her cloak from a coat stand. Hollis picked up a bonnet and fit it on her head.
“Mind you be gentle with Mr. Kettle. He’s got tender feelings, that one,” Donovan reminded her.
Hollis rolled her eyes as Donovan settled the cloak onto her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, leaned over close to her ear, and said, “Quite taken with the Weslorian gent, aren’t you?”
She tried to twist about,