came. Gertie eased open the door and peeked her head into the chamber. “Primrose? Are you napping?”
Prim mumbled something incoherent, imagining it to be the sound someone might make when being roused from sleep.
Gertie advanced into the darkened room.
“Yes, just a bit. I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh dear.” Gertie sank down on the side of the bed. “What ails you?”
“My stomach . . . it’s my womanly pains. Nothing serious.”
“Oh, shall I fetch one of my willow bark tonics? They do wonders.”
“No. I just prefer to rest.”
“What of dinner? Would you like me to bring you something? Perhaps a soup?”
“I’m not hungry. I think I just need to sleep. I am certain I will wake refreshed if I just get some rest.” She held her breath, hoping Gertie would accept her explanation and leave her for the night.
“Very well.” Gertie patted her arm and lifted up from the bed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Prim held her breath, waiting even after Gertie departed the room for the sound of her footsteps fading down the corridor. And then another ten minutes or so just for good measure.
Then she was up, flying from the bed as though it were afire.
Prim manipulated the covers so that if someone peeked in, they would think she was asleep in bed. Her efforts, of course, wouldn’t hold up to a close inspection, but she doubted anyone would look carefully.
She crept from her bedchamber and moved furtively through the house, taking the servants’ stairs out to the back garden, hoping she did not bump into a member of the staff. Fortunately, she encountered no one. She eased the door shut behind her, making certain not to slam it and attract undue attention.
It was rather dispiriting, she realized, to be able to sneak out with such ease. It was almost as though no one cared about her—as though she could disappear entirely and her family wouldn’t even notice.
Shaking off the glum thought, she rounded the house through the side gate, wiping sweating palms down her skirts. As they had planned earlier, Prim wore only a simple frock since she would be changing at Olympia’s house into a different gown.
With the closing of the gate, Prim determined tonight would be wonderful. No more gloomy thoughts. It was her birthday. Who needed a ton party to have fun? She and her friend would make their own party.
It was still light out, and Prim hoped she didn’t appear conspicuous darting across the street to Olympia’s house.
Like this morning, the housekeeper was quick to answer.
“Come in, Miss Primrose. Olympia is in her bedchamber. She said for you to join her there. Shall I take your cloak and show you to—”
“No, thank you! I know the way, of course.” With a wave and smile, she dashed up the stairs, careful to avoid the maid descending with an armful of linens.
She knocked once on Olympia’s bedchamber door and then charged inside. She couldn’t help herself. She was much too eager for this evening.
Olympia was already attired in her gown, and Prim gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “You look beautiful.”
Olympia clasped a handful of skirts and twirled in a circle. “Thank you. I’ve been saving this for a special occasion . . . now let’s get you out of that and into something more appropriate for an evening at Vauxhall.” Her friend stood behind her and made short work of the tiny buttons at the back of Prim’s dress.
In quick order, Prim was divested of garments and stripped down to her chemise. Even her corset was removed in exchange for one of Olympia’s. “This here is a proper one that lifts you up as a corset should.”
“Umph,” Prim exclaimed as Olympia gave the laces a nearly violent tug. “Not so tightly, please. I’d care to eat tonight.” And breathe.
“This is precisely how tightly Diana laces me in. Do you want me to ring for her? She will not have so gentle a hand.”
“Need I remind you that I am not at all as accustomed to fitted corsets as you are,” she pointed out.
“Oh very well.” She let up a bit on the laces. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She inhaled and exhaled with much more ease.
“There.” Olympia helped slip the gown over her head. “You are magnificent.”
Primrose turned to stand before the cheval mirror, aghast at the reflection of herself. She was a stranger to her own eyes. Her hand floated to her neckline and exposed décolletage.
Up until this moment she had not even realized she