Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(10)
“I found them!” a female voice exclaimed. “So, here is where you two have been hiding!”
5
The Man Who Ate New York
The Schuyler Mansion
Albany, New York
April 1781
Eliza whirled to see Peggy and Angelica approaching with small plates of pastry in their gloved hands. Alex and Eliza separated from each other with sheepish smiles. But the Schuyler sisters weren’t about to let them off that easily.
“‘You have already stolen my heart, so there is nothing left to shoot’?” Peggy mocked. “And I thought this cherry jam was sweet! Lord preserve us. Preserve us,” she repeated in a heavier voice. “D’you see what I did there?”
Angelica moaned. “Between Colonel Hamilton’s purple prose and your purple puns, this party is off to a magnificent start!”
“Don’t forget my purple tongue!” Peggy said, sticking hers out at Angelica, who couldn’t help but giggle.
“Mama is going to banish us to the wilds of Ohio!” the oldest Schuyler girl said.
“Where we will obviously be the best-dressed girls for five hundred miles,” Peggy replied. “Speaking of which, you have yet to compliment us on our gowns, Colonel Hamilton. We don’t work this hard for no one to notice, I’ll have you know. Be honest: If you had to do it all over again, which of the Schuyler sisters would you propose to, based on tonight’s ensembles?”
Eliza laughed at her sister’s brazenness and saw Alex’s face go nearly as purple as Peggy’s tongue. But he covered himself well. “This question may be more relevant than you realize. I understand that there is a proposed law for the new country that says a husband may trade in his wife in the first year of marriage, no questions asked.”
Peggy gasped, but Eliza was not so easily shocked. “Just husbands? Are wives so easily contented with their men?” she said with an arched brow.
“To the contrary,” Alex said. “Wives get five years to make up their minds, on the understanding that the fairer sex is far more patient than we brutes, and men are much better at concealing their faults.”
“If only because they’re hardly ever home,” Eliza said with a sniff. “I feel as though I haven’t seen you in three days. You sneak in after dark and are out before the sun is up. I’m not convinced you are who you say you are. Perhaps you are not even my true husband.”
“Is that so?” said Alex with a grin. “What shall I do to make you remember?”
Eliza swatted the hand he tried to snake around her waist.
“She speaks the truth!” Angelica said. “I have quite forgotten what Mr. Church looks like. Is that him?” she said, pointing to a man who was at least sixty years old, as tall as a three-year-old maple sapling, and nearly as thin.
The girls laughed at Angelica’s wickedness, then Alex interrupted. “I believe I was promised a fashion show.”
Peggy beamed, and immediately stepped in front of Angelica. Eliza tried to slip away, but Angelica caught her wrist and pulled her back.
“Now, now, sister. Your marriage is on the line. No time to be modest.”
“I am hardly modest,” Eliza half grumbled, half teased. “I just have no desire to be exhibited like a prize pig.”
“You should be so lucky as to take home the trophy,” Angelica teased. “Now hush.”
Peggy stepped forward. With another man, this display might have been unnecessary, since the sisters had already been conversing with Alex for ten minutes, giving him ample time to survey their outfits. But Eliza knew that her husband was the type of man who noticed the person rather than his or her garments. One time he spent an hour in conversation with General Lafayette, and when the latter had departed—and when they were safely alone—Eliza had asked him how he had managed to concentrate when the general’s shirttail had been poking out of his trouser fly. Alex had merely looked at her blankly.
But now Alex summoned a breath and put on a serious face, as though he were judging not pigs or even cattle, but something as valuable as a saddle horse.
Peggy was wearing a silk dress of the deepest, most shimmering reds, given a moiré effect by an overskirt of burgundy lace. Full panniers made it as wide as a love seat, making her already tiny waist seem that much smaller. Her corset was strapped tighter than a mummy’s bandages, the bodice of her dress tightly laced and low cut, revealing an abundant serving of décolletage. Breasts, neck, and face were so heavily powdered as to be almost shimmering, which blended seamlessly into the silver pompadour wig she had lately taken to wearing. Amber dewdrops hung from her ears, matching the silver chain and pendant on her chest, which complemented her dark ruby lips and her flashing eyes.
“Very nice,” Alex said. “I think the housekeeper said we were looking for a charwoman to clean the fireplaces. I’ll let her know. Next!”
Peggy’s jaw dropped open, and you could almost see her blush beneath her powder—almost. Fortunately, she was far too aware of her beauty to take him seriously. She raised an eyebrow, stepped aside, and allowed Angelica her turn.
Angelica had reversed Peggy’s color combination. Her dress was gold and her jewels ruby. Her silhouette was less imposing, the skirts of her dress augmented by a small crinoline, though she had foregone a corset, and even lacing, giving her waist a daringly mobile mien. The powdering on her face and breasts was lighter, allowing the natural golden tones of her skin to be complemented by the richly gathered silks of her dress. She had taken the unusual step of selecting a dark wig to give the outfit a more solid cap, and Eliza saw Alex’s eyes widen when he noticed it. Angelica had lovely brunette hair but her wig was as black as a raven’s plumage, and the dark frame made her pale complexion seem almost pearlescent. Her lips were peach. Her hazel eyes seemed by turns green and gold depending on how they caught the light. Truly, her eldest sister was radiant tonight.